The Summer We Fell (The Summer, #1)(75)

Because even when he’s mad…he’ll do anything for me too.

THE GALA for Danny’s House is being held at The Obsidian, this dreamy all-white hotel that sits right on a beach to the north of us. It feels a lot like the wedding Donna wished she could plan for me and Danny, the “Wouldn’t it be amazing if we could afford that?” dream that was way out of our price range.

On the morning of the gala, Luke drives me and Donna to the hotel to help set things up. I check us

into the three-bedroom suite I’ve rented so that we don’t have to drive all the way back to Rhodes when we’re done, and Luke carries our bags in while Donna and I go to the ballroom.

There are floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the ocean, and a terrace wraps around the outside so guests will be able to flow easily in and out of the space.

“We’re cranking the air conditioning,” the hotel liaison tells us, “but it won’t be this cold in here once it’s full of people.”

I text Luke and ask him to bring a sweater for Donna. He returns with the cardigan she wore in the car and one of his hoodies for me, so big it will fall to a few inches above my knees. I shouldn’t accept it but here I am, letting my foot off the gas again. I pull it over my head and inhale deeply. It smells like him.

He catches me and his mouth curves into a pleased, lopsided grin. “It’s yours,” he says, holding my eye. Everything I have is yours, is what he means. God, I wish I could say it back.

We follow the coordinator as she points out where things will go, and Libby whispers the names of guests in my ear—a lot of Silicon Valley, tech-rich couples who could probably buy and sell me easily. They’ve already made large donations or have offered to match the final sum.

That New York Times reporter, no matter how little I care for her, wasn’t wrong: Danny’s House is turning into something that might be repeated all over the country.

Luke and I are the ones who brought it the exposure, yet Hilary Peters still doesn’t want us around.

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” she says to me with a tight, displeased smile on her face.

Luke moves closer. It makes no sense that he still wants to protect me—he’s seen how readily I put myself first.

“Of course they’re here,” says Libby, wrapping an arm around my waist. “They’re the whole reason we’re able to do this.”

Hilary’s smile grows sharp. “Their contributions are a drop in the bucket compared with what’s come in over the past few weeks.”

“And those contributions are coming in because Juliet and Luke brought us the publicity,” Libby counters in a surprising show of backbone.

I fight a smile.

Hilary acts like she hasn’t heard this, but Libby and Donna exchange a glance when her back turns. I’m glad they’re both keeping an eye on the situation because Hilary is exactly the sort of woman who will say the right thing to Social Services, then stomp all over some powerless kid she happens to dislike.

We’re led to the tables where the silent auction will be held and start taping down bid sheets and setting up the displays. There are toddler ballet lessons and themed baskets. There are also trips, from the mundane—Napa bus tour—to a glamorous private home overlooking the Sea of Cortez, chef included.

We’re still there when the hotel staff come to set up the stage for the band and a parquet floor for dancing. Donna stands with Luke, fretting as she watches them. She calls me and Libby over. “Do you think it’s big enough? Thirty by thirty sounded big on paper but look at it.”

“Let’s see,” says Luke, pulling me by the hand.

I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t willingly let him grab my hand in public, much less dance with him, but he’s smiling in that way I can’t resist, and it’s all so effortless and easy. I’m like a bedsheet floating off a clothesline as he leads me across the floor. I could no sooner walk away from him now than that sheet could stop floating and fold itself into four square corners.

Libby grabs Donna and spins her too.

“He’s singing ‘Jingle Bells’,” I call over my shoulder to Libby and Donna. “I can’t believe you don’t know any other songs.”

“I know lots of other songs,” he argues before launching into “The Wheels on the Bus”, loudly.

Donna starts to sing along, and Libby and I are laughing so hard we’re nearly bent over.

“You’re proven your point. We need a bigger floor,” says Hilary sharply, cutting into our silliness.

We stop dancing, still trying to control our giggling, and that’s when I see Grady. He’s standing by the ballroom doors with a garment bag over his shoulder, staring at me and Luke.

Me, wearing Luke’s sweatshirt.

Me, happy and flourishing.

I drop Luke’s hand fast, but not fast enough. The room is still freezing, but I can already feel the sweat trickling down my back.





32

THEN

JUNE 2015

I figured Harrison came from money, but I didn't know he came from this kind of money. His parents’ house, with its multi-million-dollar views of the Pacific and the cliffs, is the equivalent of three regular homes. It has a pool and two kitchens, two laundry rooms, and so many bedrooms that, though there are thirty of us, no one needs to sleep on the floor.