Chapter 21
Elle sits across from me as I lie on the couch, going over what will from here on be known as “the photo shoot” with her. She fidgets with her friendship bracelet as she listens to me discuss everything from how he held my hand up the hilltop and then the awkwardness back when we left.
“So, he’s willing to do ‘practice kisses’ with you?” She makes finger quotes around practice. “What’s the problem?”
“He called our kiss practice for the one I do with my boyfriend, and in his eyes, that’s Oliver.” I take a deep breath. “He’s acting like our kiss didn’t mean anything.”
Elle is quiet. Unusually quiet. I squint at her. “What are you not telling me?”
She winces. “So…he asked if you and Oliver were a thing.”
I sit up. “What did you say?”
She shrugs. “I said you two are besties and he checks off all the items on your perfect boyfriend list.”
I throw my hands up. “Elle! I don’t have a perfect boyfriend list.”
“I’ve known you all my life and your tastes are super predictable.
” She crosses her arms. “And I never said he was your boyfriend—just that he checks off all the boxes.” Guilt flashes across her face.
“I should’ve clarified, Abby. I was hangry, and then Tita Karra barged in with her chicken adobo.
The whole convo just went sideways from there. ”
I rub my forehead. “This whole time he’s assumed me and Oliver were official.”
Elle sits next to me. “I’m sorry, but nothing I said to him was a lie.” She leans her head on my shoulder and bats her lashes. “You should talk to him. Tell him how you feel.”
I sag against her. I did tell Gabriel that Oliver and I aren’t official, but Oliver’s text message during our hike didn’t help.
But even if Oliver and I aren’t together, the idea that I could be with Gabriel feels impossible.
And I bet he feels the same way. “How can I date Gabriel if we don’t see each other every day?
It’s already hard enough for me to get out of the house. ”
Elle sighs. “Maybe love isn’t always easy and convenient?”
My jaw drops. “Love?” Suddenly, me having a heart-to-heart about love with a girl who used to kiss frogs hoping they would turn into princes is too much even for me. “This convo’s over.”
I retreat to my room and crumple onto my bed. In two weeks, I’m heading back to DC. Gabriel is staying here in Virginia, three hours away. Two if Shaw is driving, but not all of us come with a Secret Service escort.
Oliver makes sense. We go to the same school, my parents like him, he’s polite and smart, we laugh at the same jokes, he understands my life and the world I live in, and he’s objectively cute.
Plus, he’s clearly into me. And when I’m back to DC, we’ll be dancing under the stars at the White House Independence Day Gala.
Gabriel will be here in Mystic Hollow.
I hear a little knock on my door. Elle pokes her head in, looking convincingly apologetic. “Cookie?” she asks.
I nod at her peace offering and she flops down beside me. “Sorry for being a butthead. I really like Gabriel, but it’s your love life, not mine.”
I wrap an arm around her shoulders. “I like him too.” I tap her knee. “But like he said—that kiss was just practice…It didn’t mean anything.”
She looks like she wants to argue, but I also see doubt in her eyes. Doubt that mirrors my own, but I won’t let her suspect I feel the same. “We’ve still got time here, so let’s not be all awkward about it.”
Elle nods as I continue. “Let’s make these next days count. We’ll plan the best jubilee ever and make some memories this town will never forget.” Of course, my kiss with Gabe is something I could never forget if I tried.
I rock in my boots. I’ve had them for almost a week, the length of time the sporting goods store said my hiking boots would take to begin to break in.
It’s also been a week since that kiss with Gabriel. The kiss that meant nothing.
I’ve spent a lot of time on the jubilee the past few days—working with the florists and organizing the pie competition.
We have more than fifty entries, and each state has at least one baker.
From Maryland’s Baltimore bomb pie to Indiana’s Hoosier sugar cream pie to Alaskan salmon pie, we have our bases covered and mouths watering.
Elle thinks I’ve been avoiding spending time with Gabriel.
It’s not not true. But he’s also been busy. We have that in common. Diving headfirst into our tasks for the jubilee.
With Elle off somewhere, I’m left in the suite alone. In the White House I’m surrounded by staff. Here at Mystic Hollow Inn, I’m by my lonesome. No one to give me a hard time that I’m still in my pajamas or tell me what I should be doing.
It’s the perfect time to take my boots for a test walk. The stairs are a little hard to navigate. I teeter down and almost slip. My hand reaches for the rail, and I catch myself with a little yelp.
My gaze comes directly into line of sight of the photo of the couple in the tree swing. My heart warms seeing Gabriel’s grandparents. They look so at home with one another.
My head is swarming with thoughts about Gabriel’s secret career plans, and the true love between Gabriel’s grandparents, intermixed with images of my own parents. How lucky these women were to find the perfect match. I bet Gabe’s grandma didn’t make a list of qualities for her future husband.
As I reach the first floor, the sound of classical music comes from the direction of the kitchen. It’s the waltz. A dance that is now synonymous with my life in DC.
I rock to the beat in my new hiking boots, swaying with an imaginary partner. Eyes closed, I picture being swept away in the White House ballroom. One of President Ford’s daughters was married in that room. Another First Daughter held her prom in that very room. Someday, maybe…
“Nice footwork,” a voice says from the door.
I keep my eyes closed a beat longer than necessary, if only to try to recover my composure. Of course, this is totally and unequivocally embarrassing, being caught dancing alone.
A hot and sweaty Gabriel leans in the doorway with an amused smile. His workout clothes, red basketball shorts and a sleeveless black top, emphasize his trim waist and broad shoulders.
His hair is damp and face flushed from his morning run. I clear my throat. “I was just making sure my new boots fit properly.”
“Really? Looks like you were auditioning for Dancing with the Stars.”
“Funny,” I say, and because sometimes humor is a good way to deflect, I curtsy in my boots and my purple pajamas. “I’m gonna crush it.”
He studies me, then steps forward, hands outstretched. “Not with that box step.”
We haven’t been alone since the photo shoot. My pulse quickens as he reaches for my hand. I already know he’s a great dancer—our state dinner waltz proved that. But somehow, the prospect of dancing with him now, in the early morning, in my pajamas, feels even more exhilarating. More intimate.
Deep breaths, Abby. No big deal. Or as Dad says, fake it till you make it. I lift my chin, pretending he doesn’t affect me, and slip my hands into his.
Gabriel pulls me close. I’m transported to our kiss on the hilltop. The one we filed under “bucket list” and nothing more. But part of me wonders…would one more practice round really hurt?
“Your technique is satisfactory,” I say coldly.
“Maybe I’ve been rehearsing in case the First Daughter of the United States needed a dance partner.”
“A practice dance partner,” I say, my voice breathy.
His eyes darken into that same passion-filled shade they were after our kiss. “Maybe you and me practicing isn’t such a bad idea.”
My heart races as our bodies inch closer. And then he hisses as my heavy hiking boot accidentally lands on his toes. “I’m so sorry!”
He grimaces and laughs at the same time. “You were saying who needed lessons?”
“I do, clearly,” I say, turning all shades of red.
“You know what?” He winces. “I think you’ve broken in those boots.”
“Is this nature-y enough?” Gabriel teases, pulling into a dirt parking lot near a sign that says Mt.
Mystic Hollow Nature Trails. In the distance, I note dense woods and hilly terrain and predict I’ll need a few Band-Aids this afternoon.
Still, this was on my bucket list and I’m here to conquer that list. I take a deep breath. “Very nature-y.”
I notice a few teens hop out of another car nearby. I do a double take, realizing it’s Kyle, Billie, and Jaisha, dressed for a hike. Did Gabe invite them to join us?
“What are you guys doing here?” Gabe asks.
Kyle makes a face. “It’s a free country. We can’t hike the same park as you?”
Gabe leans in so only I can hear. “I was comparing notes on local trails with Billie and I guess they took it as an invitation.”
“No need to explain,” I say, trying to hide my disappointment. After our kiss, I’m guessing Gabe probably doesn’t want to be alone with me. “Besides, I brought my own entourage.”
I jerk a thumb toward Shaw and Nessa, both wearing hiking gear. Another team of agents in an unmarked van is parked nearby, serving as base camp, while Nessa and Shaw will go into the woods with us.
“What’s with the colors?” Elle asks, pointing at a sign with trail names.
“Each trail is assigned a color,” Gabriel explains. “As we walk along, we should see markers with the trail’s color along the way to let us know we’re on the right path.”
I study a nearby sign that lets us know this is an official state park. My finger hovers over each trail and description. I smirk at the trail named Old Tinker. “This one has the highest difficulty level.”
“We’re going to stick with the Red Apple trail,” Gabriel says firmly.
“Boring,” Kyle says. “Come on, Calabrese, take her through the Tinker. That’s where we’re going.”