The Summer We Fell (The Summer, #1)(19)

I swallow. It’s good to see her but sickening at the same time. She’s one more person I treated terribly. “I’m so sorry I fell out of touch.”

By which I mean , I’m sorry I missed your wedding, I’m sorry I never returned your calls or emails or texts. I’m sorry I left town without a word and acted like you didn’t matter.

She waves her hand. “Your life is so crazy! I can’t imagine how you do it all. I’ve been watching, though. I’m so proud of you.”

It’s typical of Libby to be kind like this. I wouldn’t be, in her shoes.

I glance down at her stomach. “Looks like your life’s about to get crazy too.”

She smiles, thrilled and embarrassed at once. “It took a while,” she says. “But we’re nearly there.”

She and Grady have been married for over six years, and I suspect, based on things Donna has said, that Libby was hoping for a child most of that time. I can just imagine what it must have been like for her, with Mrs. Poffsteader patting her on the shoulder every fucking Sunday, consoling her and acting like she was at fault, simultaneously. I wonder where those old crones go to breakfast now that the diner is gone, where they can clutch their Bibles while they shit-talk everyone and fail to tip.

The room quiets, which means it’s time to take our seats. Libby grasps my hand. “Can we get

lunch one day before you go? I know you’re busy, but if you can fit me in, I’d love to catch up.”

“That would be great,” I tell her. And I mean it. I would love to have lunch with Libby, but I’m absolutely not going to do it. I’ll make an excuse of some kind or throw myself in front of a bus if necessary. Almost any interaction I have in this town could turn out to be a mistake, but spending time with Libby? It’s almost guaranteed to be.

A small, tidy woman steps to the front of the room, offering all of us a forced smile. “As most of you know,” she begins, “I’m Hilary Peters, the new executive director.” There’s something smug about her, and now that I’ve given up on trying to be an Allen, I’m not going to restrain the urge to judge her for it.

“Let me start by welcoming everyone. Especially our celebrity guests, Luke Taylor and Juliet Cantrell.” Is it my imagination or is there a hint of sarcasm in her voice when she says the word celebrity? I sneak a peek at Luke to see if he’s bothered by her, but his face is blank. He’s always been far better than I am at hiding what he feels. Hilary has everyone go around the room to introduce themselves, and then starts handing something out. “We’ve got a lot going on in the coming month, which is the reason I called this meeting.”

You didn’t call this meeting. Donna called this meeting. I was there when she fucking emailed you.

I look at the agenda she’s passed around. It’s mostly a list of interviews, the bulk of them set up by my publicist, with the groundbreaking ceremony and the gala at the end.

“Now, for the interviews, Luke and Juliet, I thought it would be nice if both of you could really lean in to the whole identity as foster children. You know, talk about where you were before the Allens took you in and where you would have ended up without them.”

This time, when I glance at Luke, he’s already looking at me. I’ve carefully culled most of the truth from my past and so has he. We don’t need it coming up here.

I push the paper away from me. “I was more than happy to secure these interviews for Danny’s House, but the fact that I was a foster kid here—and Luke wasn’t one, by the way—was never mentioned as part of the strategy.”

Her smile turns patronizing. “There’s a world of difference between having a celebrity get an interview for something and having a celebrity personalize the experience so that readers understand how meaningful it is. Surely you understand the difference?”

Oh, you fucking bitch.

“I understand the difference. However, discussing that is a personal decision, one I’ll make in my own good time.”

“Listen, Juliet,” she says with a tight smile. “I understand that it might be uncomfortable for you, but it would mean a lot to the—”

“She said no,” Luke growls.

Hilary blinks rapidly. Apparently, Luke’s “No” carries weight mine did not. I guess I shouldn’t be

surprised by that. When has anyone ever respected what I thought about anything?

“Juliet has already done enough for this place. She doesn’t need to do more. And as she mentioned, I wasn’t a foster child. I just stayed here over the summer during college.”

“Well, you did have a difficult adolescence, didn’t you?” she asks. “You could lean in to that, perhaps, and—”

“How about I decide what I want to say and Juliet decides what she wants to say?” he asks.

“We’re the only reason you’re getting this publicity in the first place.”

She frowns, glancing at the board members closest to her with a look that says, “I told you they’d be a problem.”

“Okay, let’s table that for now. Libby, can you tell us a little bit about how the plans for the gala are coming along?”

Libby smiles. She has the same sort of inner sweetness Donna has, the sort that just seems to ooze from her whether she intends it to or not. If she’d asked me, I might have gone along with the interview suggestion. If she asked me, I’d probably agree to almost anything, which is why I’m best off staying away from her.