Chapter 23 #2
She purses her lips. “Because it’s not fair how you’re treating Gabriel.”
I gape at her. “Excuse me?”
“I saw you two at the river. He’s totally into you and you were totally into him. And then you agree to go on a date with Oliver?”
I shake my head. “It’s just dinner.”
“Dinner. And then a dance. That’s a date.”
I sigh. “Gabriel and I…I mean, we’re not exclusive. I don’t know what we’re doing. We called our kissing ‘practice.’ He doesn’t want anything more with me.”
“We called our kissing practice.” Elle does a terrible impression of me as she glares my way. “You know, maybe you should hit the refresh button for your eyes because you clearly can’t see.”
My jaw drops as she saunters away. I should be used to her outbursts, but this one stings and I can’t tell if it’s because she’s completely right about me and Gabriel, or completely wrong about me.
I know there’s something between me and Gabe, but I also know it can’t go anywhere.
How could it? I’m leaving at the end of the month and our paths will never cross again.
I stare at myself in my suite’s mirror, wearing my new yellow dress and white strappy heels. Even an afternoon of shopping and pedicures has done little to lift my mood. Oliver will be arriving in twenty minutes to pick me up.
Tita Karra comes back to my room, holding her pearl necklace. I watch her reflection and frown as she approaches me. “Gabriel will understand, honey. We all knew you were a short-term guest.” She clasps the necklace around my neck.
I flinch. So much to unpack in that statement. What does she know? I gulp. “Tita Karra, can I tell you something and you’ll promise not to tell Mom?”
Her expression turns serious. “Of course, my dear. That’s practically in the tita-niece handbook.”
I take a deep breath. “I kissed Gabriel. And he kissed me back.”
Tita’s stone expression breaks into a soft smile. “I know, my dear. I think everyone knows, or at least suspected.”
“Then how can you tell me Gabriel will understand?”
She wraps an arm around my shoulders. “Because you’re young and you’re allowed to have these fleeting moments. A summer romance? How very young adult of you. They can burn bright and hot like a firework, then extinguish just as quickly,” she says gently.
I stare at her. “You think this is just a summer romance?”
Tita Karra looks me in the eye. “Only you can determine that.” She hesitates.
“But you and my godson are from two different worlds. And you will be returning to Washington soon and moving on with your life. Plus”—her hands fly to her hips—“I promised your mother I’d get you back in one piece. Believe me, I will.”
I look at the mirror and force myself to smile at my reflection. There she is. Abigail Cary-Alzona. Prim. Proper. About to go on a date with Oliver Darby. The vice president’s son and the boy who should be on the arm of the First Daughter. The one who makes perfect sense.
Tita Karra heads to my door. She tries to smile encouragingly. “You don’t want a firework, sweetie. You want a star, a bright light that burns strong and steady.”
I purse my lips. She must mean Gabriel is a temporary firework while Oliver is a constant glow.
Her analogy makes sense, yet it doesn’t make me feel better.
I look out my window and appreciate the serenity of the inn’s property bathed in sunlight.
The constant, predictable sun. I flash a resigned smile. “I’m going to wait outside for Oliver.”
She nods. “Of course. Elle and the rest of the family will see you at the dance. Enjoy your dinner date,” she calls after me. I sigh. Even she acknowledges it’s a date.
My chest tightens as I step outside. The driveway, fields, and trees glow with such warmth in the fading afternoon light. Gabriel called this time of day the golden hour. The perfect time to take photos. And he’s right. It’s like I’m in a dream.
I’m on autopilot as I walk down the porch and find myself by the large tree in front of the inn. The tree swing, with faded white wood, rocks gently. I smile and take a seat.
This is where Gabe’s grandparents sat for their romantic photo. The chair is cool and creaks ever so slightly like a sigh. My legs dangle as I allow myself to sway in its inviting curves. I shut my eyes to feel the fading sunlight on my face and a gardenia-scented wind through my hair.
A loud click startles me. I turn to see a camera lens pointed my way.
More clicks and I smile. Gabriel lowers his camera.
“I think we have a winner,” he says. My breath catches seeing how gorgeous he looks in the early evening sun.
The way his dark hair glows with a fiery edge.
The angles of his cheekbones. How his muscles are emphasized from the sunlight and shadows.
“Hold that,” he says. He raises his camera again and steps closer. My smile disappears and instead I’m looking directly into the lens. He takes a few more shots and then lowers his camera. “Perfection,” he says, voice low. “Most of the time when you look at a camera you’re smiling.”
“That’s how I’m trained,” I say. “To always smile when people are looking.”
His eyes study mine. “Authenticity,” he says. “That’s when people are the most beautiful. When they’re not forcing a smile.” He takes another shot.
Our eyes meet and my mouth goes dry. Tita Karra said what we have is a summer romance. Something that burns hot, then will blow out and extinguish fast like a firework. But as we stare at one another it’s like I’m gazing at the sun, a fire that has burned for billions of years.
And it’s not fiery, passionate kisses I see. It’s the tender image of Gabe’s grandparents sitting side by side on this very swing I’m sitting on now. I stare at Gabriel, my chest tight, my heart full. I watch the Adam’s apple in his throat bob as he struggles with his words too.
Gabriel is right. This swing isn’t for practice kisses. The couples who sit here—are here for the real thing. My eyes shut as I lean toward him.
Maybe this will be a “for real” kiss? Maybe what we have is more than a summer romance.
The swing shakes, startling me. I turn to find Oliver Darby wearing an expensive suit and his “vote for me” smile.
I gasp as he slides next to me. “Awesome, you got us a photographer.” He kisses my cheek. “You look gorgeous, Abby.”