“You do?” Realizing she’d sounded a little too incredulous, Libby tried again. “Trust is—a river that flows in both directions.”
“Strange kind of river,” Jefferson murmured.
None of it fazed Hildy.
“You are the perfect person to bring our story to life. Like you did with Tutu. Two hot, young—or youngish—people from different worlds meet on the side of a mountain, finding life and quote-unquote love, until it slips away.” She bent to scoop up a handful of sand, letting it trickle through her fingers.
“You’re dying?” Jean sounded more outraged than concerned.
“No. My health is immaculate, thanks to JJ. We’rebreaking up.” Hildy let that settle for a few seconds. “Well, fake-breaking-up. In the sense that we were never together. Maybe we should sit down?” she suggested. Probably because Libby looked like she was about to pass out.
They walked onto a sandy strip on the sheltered side of the island that faced the shore. Someone had arranged a half circle of driftwood logs around the ashy remains of a fire. Hildy settled herself on a weathered trunk, threading her fingers together and resting them on her knee like it was a boardroom table.
“Where were we?” she asked.
“You didn’t find love in the snow cave?” Not the most intelligent way Libby could have phrased the question, but her brain was too scrambled for logic. What next, they’d tell her the footage of Jefferson carrying Hildy through the snow was a deepfake?
“No. But we did discover a healthy platonic bond based on mutual respect and teamwork, so yay us.” Hildy patted herself on the back. “The real treasure was the friends we made along the way, and so on.”
“I—did not see that coming.” Either the sun had climbed high enough to warm the space between Libby’s shoulder blades, or Jefferson was watching her.
“Really?” Hildy looked delighted. “See, JJ? I told you we could do it. He was worried.”
“I don’t like lying,” Jefferson corrected.
“I approached him at a weak moment. Under the influence.” Hildy spoke with a hand shading her mouth, like the last bit was a secret.
“IV fluids,” he rumbled. “It wasn’t a morphine drip.”
“I’m talking about the euphoria of not dying. That’s a powerful high, especially when you factor in the rescuer/rescuee bond. He wassorelieved I was alive and well.”
Jefferson shot her a wry look. “Sometimes I still am.”
“Thanks to your heartfelt paternal affection for me,” Hildy teased. Not about the affection; she seemed pretty confident on that front. Libby suspected the game was to crack Jefferson’s stoic façade, though in this case Hildy had to settle for a shake of the head.
“I wanted to get a read on your character before we brought you into the circle of truth.” She smiled at Libby, as if that were no longer a concern. “You’re a lot like me. Ambitious but also loyal and discreet. That’s how I know I can trust you.”
“Oh,” Libby choked. “That’s really nice of you to say—”
Jean threw a twig at her. “Learn to take a compliment, Miss Lillibet. She’s ever so modest,” she added to Hildy, who accepted this with a brisk nod.
“The way I see it, you’re a storyteller, and I’m a storyseller.It’s a language I grew up speaking. When everyone jumpedon the May-December romance angle, I immediately saw the potential.”
“For fame?” Jean asked.
“Forpower.I control the story because I am the story. Well, technically we.” She circled a finger between herself and Jefferson. “But mostly me.”
“What’s in it for him?” Jean asked. “Is he on the payroll?”
“A little offended you think I’d have to bribe someone to fake-date me, but we’ll let that slide.” Hildy fluffed her windblown curls. “Besides doing me a solid, JJ is here to show his ex he’s not sitting at home crying while she plays stuff-the-sausage with Prince Caspian.”
“Crispin,” Libby murmured.
“Ahem.” Jean sent her a look that said,Try to be less obsessed, loser.
Libby gave herself the mental equivalent of a double slap. “Your uncle doesn’t know?”
“Nobody does except me and JJ. And now you two.”
