35. Summer
35
SUMMER
T he café was quieter than usual, the soft clinking of dishes and low murmur of conversation providing a soothing backdrop as I stirred my tea absently. Across from me, Mia sat with her arms crossed, her sharp gaze fixed on me like a hawk.
“You look like you haven’t slept in days,” she said bluntly.
“Thanks,” I muttered, offering her a tired smile. “Just what I needed to hear.”
She softened, reaching across the table to pat my hand. “I’m serious, Summer. You’ve been carrying this for too long. Let it out.”
I sighed, setting my spoon down and pressing my palms flat against the table. “It’s Ava,” I said, my voice low. “Her condition’s worse than we thought. The surgery has to happen sooner, and I don’t know if I’m ready for it.”
“You don’t have to be ready for it,” Mia said, leaning forward. “You just have to show up. That’s what you’ve always done for her.”
I nodded, my throat tightening. “I’m scared, Mia. What if something goes wrong? What if I lose her?”
“You’re not going to lose her,” she said firmly. “And you’re not doing this alone. You have Enzo now.”
The mention of Enzo brought a flicker of warmth to my chest, but it was quickly overshadowed by guilt. “He’s been amazing,” I admitted. “But I can’t shake this feeling that I’ve let him down. That I’ve let Ava down.”
Mia frowned. “Why would you think that?”
“Because this isn’t just about Ava’s health,” I said, lowering my voice. “It’s about everything—the lies, the fake relationship, the foundation. It’s all catching up to me.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Speaking of the foundation, what’s the update there? They’re still helping with the costs, right?”
“Yes,” I said, my stomach twisting. “But I feel like a fraud. We’re not the picture-perfect family we made them believe we were. And now that everything’s out in the open with Enzo’s family, I keep waiting for it all to blow up in my face.”
“Summer,” Mia said, her tone sharp but not unkind. “You did what you had to do to get Ava the care she needed. Don’t beat yourself up for that.”
“But it wasn’t honest,” I said, my voice trembling. “What if they find out? What if they take the funding away?”
Mia leaned back in her chair, her brow furrowed. “Do they even know the full story? About how Enzo found out Ava was his daughter?”
“No,” I admitted. “We haven’t told them. And now… now I don’t know if we should.”
Mia tilted her head, her expression thoughtful. “It’s a mess, yeah. But what matters is Ava. You did what you had to do to take care of her. If anyone has a problem with that, they’re the ones in the wrong.”
Her words were comforting, but the weight of the situation lingered. I glanced around the café, suddenly feeling exposed, like every word we’d spoken was hanging in the air for anyone to hear.
Little did I know, someone was listening.
At a nearby table, a woman sat with a notebook open in front of her, her pen poised as if taking notes. She was inconspicuous enough—blonde hair in a neat bun, a pair of simple glasses perched on her nose—but her gaze flicked toward us every so often, sharp and calculating.
I hadn’t noticed her when we’d arrived, too consumed by my own thoughts to pay attention. But now, as Mia leaned closer, her voice dropping to a whisper, the woman’s hand moved subtly, jotting something down in her notebook.
“So what’s the plan?” Mia asked, oblivious to our unwanted audience.
I sighed, running a hand through my hair. “Right now, it’s just getting through the surgery. One thing at a time.”
“And the foundation?” Mia pressed.
I hesitated, guilt twisting in my gut. “I don’t know. I feel like we’re walking on eggshells. If they figure out the truth—about the fake relationship, about everything?—”
“They won’t,” Mia said firmly. “You’ve done everything for Ava. They’ll understand if it ever comes to that.”
I nodded, though her reassurance did little to ease my anxiety.
The woman at the nearby table adjusted her glasses, her movements deliberate. She stood, slipping her notebook into her bag and slinging it over her shoulder. As she walked past our table, she offered a polite smile, but there was something in her eyes—something calculating.
“Let me know if you need anything,” Mia said, pulling my attention back to her.
“Thanks,” I said softly, giving her a faint smile.
But as the woman disappeared through the door, a strange unease settled over me.
I couldn’t shake the feeling that someone had been listening.