Chapter 1

Hannah

"It's the one trope I don't like," Beth tells Amiel on our weekly morning walk to watch the sun come up at Cuddle Cove Cliff.

The topic is books.

Romance books, to be specific.

It always is with these two.

I didn't sleep well last night, and I've got a lot on my mind at the moment, so I'm only half paying attention to their conversation.

"Really?" Amiel replies. "Friends to lovers is my jam."

"What do you like about it?" Beth asks.

"So. Many. Things. The gradual development of an emotional connection over months, sometimes even years. The anticipation as they begin to realize their feelings run deeper than just friendship. And of course, there's the ultimate question—will they be brave enough to risk everything and act on their feelings?"

She stops to take a breath. "But what I enjoy most of all is that it shows that love ultimately boils down to friendship. That's what a happily ever after really is. Spending the rest of your life with someone you're compatible with. Looks fade, life knocks you around, kids, if you have them, will grow up and lead their own lives. What you want at the end of it all is someone who's there by your side. A companion."

Beth wipes the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. "I understand that. But what I can't get over is how a man and a woman, presumably both with full cognitive function, can be friends for any amount of time without realizing there's something more there."

"You saying a man and a woman can't be friends?" Summer interjects, raising an age-old topic that's been the subject of countless romcoms.

Beth shakes her head. "I'm sure there are at least a few recorded instances of platonic male-female friendship in the history of our species."

I smile like I always do whenever Beth's sarcasm collides with her staunch anti-love stance. I secretly think she wants love and a relationship as much as we all do, she just hides it under her snarky exterior.

"Because what I know for sure is that in real life, no two people would be that oblivious," she continues. "If there's something more than friendship going on, at least one of them would know."

"But that's the beauty of it," Amiel counters. "The obliviousness is endearing."

"It's annoying, is what it is," Beth says with the conviction of a person whose opinion isn't going to be swayed anytime soon. "And unrealistic," she adds for good measure.

"Right. Because you read romance for the realism," Summer says with a chuckle.

"I'm not saying romance has to be super realistic, but it has to not make me want to hurl my book out the window. No constant miscommunication. That's lazy. No unnecessary third-act breakup. That's tired. And no friends-to-lovers trope. It's annoying. There. I said it. My rant for the morning is officially over."

"Hmm. I'm not ready to lay this to rest just yet." Summer taps her chin. "Let's ask the one person here who might be able to offer a realistic perspective on this whole friends-to-lovers issue."

Four heads swivel in my direction.

"Why is everyone looking at me?" I ask.

"Uh, because all you've talked about these past few weeks is how excited you are about spending the summer with a certain Stanley Cup-winning hockey player who happens to be ridiculously attractive, and, oh yeah, is also your best friend," Summer teases.

"Two-time Stanley Cup-winning hockey player," Evie corrects, pulling her lips from her coffee for a moment. Those are the first words out of her mouth since our pitstop at Bear's diner to pick up her much-needed caffeine boost.

"Culver coming to town is not all I've been talking about," I say to my friends, who are all grinning, despite the steepening incline.

But even as the words come out of my mouth, I don't miss the uncertainty in my voice.

Okay, so maybe I've let my usual guard down and overshared my excitement about Culver staying with me.

That's okay.

I can course correct.

The beauty of hiding your true feelings about your best friend who you've been secretly in love with for the past few years is that you become adept at hiding them.

I clear my throat. "I hate to break it to you, ladies, but Culver and I are in fact one of the rare recorded instances of platonic male-female friendship in the history of our species. While he's here for the summer, a team from National Geographic will be following us around for research purposes."

The girls exchange knowing looks.

"Uh-huh," Beth says, not bothering to contain her smug smirk.

I won't be deterred. "Our families have known each other for four generations. We spent holidays and birthdays and summers together growing up. And as adults, we've formed a deep friendship. I can rely on him. I trust him. I love him. But we are…" I pause for dramatic effect. Cue the close-up and tense music. "Just friends."

And the Emmy for Best Performance by a Small Town Girl Who's Secretly in Love with Her Best Friend even Though He'd Never Think of Her as Anything More Than Friends goes to…Hannah Cooper.

Summer looks at me for a moment before taking a swig of water and Amiel and Beth exchange a glance while Evie's lips remain suctioned to the lid of her jumbo-sized coffee cup.

The topic gets dropped.

Good thing, too, because my calves are killing me. Exhaustion and exercise, coupled with having to deny your true feelings to your closest friends, do not mix well.

The girls move on to talking about something else, while my thoughts stay fixed on a certain two-time Stanley Cup-winning hockey player who just so happens to be my bestie—Culver Palladino.

Culver is the epitome of a good human.

He's kind and honest and dependable. Sweet and thoughtful. Funny. Smart.

Not to mention an incredibly talented hockey player.

When he talks to you, he makes you feel like there's no one else in the universe.

He's outgoing and always looks on the bright side of things. He's been through some hard times—we both have—but he always gets through it and comes out the other side stronger than before.

If I'm having a tough day, he always finds a way to cheer me up.

Usually with a joke.

A so bad it's almost good but not quite joke.

That's kind of a thing we do.

Since our families have always been close, when we were growing up Culver did give off protective older brother vibes.

Especially when my mom died when I was thirteen.

Despite being four years older, he always made an effort to keep in touch and check in on how I was doing.

He's crazy about my younger siblings, Katie and Chester—especially Chester—and I know Chester idolizes him.

After I graduated from high school, the age gap between Culver and I shrunk somehow, and it felt like we were both finally on the same level.

We became friends, then best friends, and now my friendship with him is the closest, most precious friendship I have.

Which is why I can't mess it up.

Culver means the world to me.

He's been there for me when I've needed him, and I've been there for him because I'm not the only one who lost someone they loved dearly in their childhood.

We have a bond stronger than just family. Our connection is strong and runs deep. But we really are just friends.

And it all boils down to one simple reason—Culver isn't interested in me romantically.

I'm a smalltown girl who runs her dead mother's flower shop, considers list-making to be her favorite hobby, and isn't the least bit spontaneous.

The last spur-of-the-moment thing I did happened last week when I swapped out my usual Ben and Jerry's Strawberry Cheesecake ice cream for Peanut Butter Cup. I regretted it the whole time I ate it and swore off making rash decisions ever again.

See? I try to be impulsive and only end up messing it up.

I'm boring.

No. I'm worse than boring.

I'm…I'm…I'm lost.

I'm twenty-five, and I have no idea who I am.

How—why—would anyone, much less a great, successful, attractive pro hockey player like Culver who could have any woman he wants, choose me?

Nope. It'll never happen.

Friends to lovers is strictly a romance novel trope and not something I foresee happening in my own very un-romance-novel-like life.

Culver and I are, and will always be, friends only.

I've accepted that…because the consolation prize is having the best friend in the world.

There's a lull in the group conversation, so I bring up a topic we need to discuss. "Should we talk about the new train station in Comfort Bay?" The girls stare at me blankly because there is no new train station in Comfort Bay. "You know…" I nudge Evie's non-coffee-drinking arm. "The station that leads to Happy Couplehood."

Evie stops nursing her triple grande monstrosity like a baby sucking on a sippy cup and breaks out into the widest smile. "You talking about me and Fraser?"

"Yes, I'm talking about you and Fraser. It's been a week since he bought you a hockey stadium and a hockey team?—"

"Two hockey teams," Amiel corrects.

"Sorry. You're right," I say. "Two hockey teams." Since Evie is determined to not only start a junior team but also a junior para team as well. "And we are all still swooning. Aren't we, ladies?"

Beth: "Oh, my gosh. Yes. I'm drowning in the swooning."

Amiel: "So. Much. Swooning. It's all people in town are talking about."

Beth: "The bookshop has been days-leading-up-to-Christmas busy all week."

Summer: "That's wild."

Beth: "What's even wilder is that we've sold out of every single hockey romance book on the shelves. I've had to express order a new shipment."

Amiel: "We launched hockey-themed cupcakes at the bakery, and I haven't been able to keep up with the demand."

Evie: "Seriously?"

Beth: "Yep. I've been fielding requests to have them iced with the initials EF, FE, Frevie, and—my personal favorite because it's truly bad—Evraser."

Me, chuckling: "That is pretty bad."

Evie, nodding: "Shockingly bad."

Beth: "I hear the Planning Committee is scheduling a parade down Main Street."

Evie: "They are not…are they?"

Beth: "No. I'm kidding. But I wouldn't put it past them."

Evie: "The joys of living in a small town."

Summer: "Hey, I've been swooning all the way from LA. Seriously, Evie. What Fraser did is…"

"Swoony?" I offer, since it seems to be the word of the morning.

Evie doesn't just look happy—she's positively glowing. I've never seen her happier.

"I feel like this is all a dream, you guys. I still can't believe it's real. That I actually own a hockey stadium and will finally get to put all my extensive practice at critiquing hockey to good use. I'm so lucky."

"Fraser's the lucky one," I point out, looping my arm over her shoulder, which is totally an act of friendship and in no way related to my legs starting to give out on me. We've almost reached the summit, and I am seriously pooped this morning.

Evie, being the good friend that she is, readjusts how she's walking to accommodate the extra weight. "The only bad thing about it is that I'm going to have even less free time now," she says. "This could be my last weekly walk for a while."

"Oh, so that's the excuse you're using," Beth teases, since Evie isn't known for being a fan of getting out of bed in the A.M. portion of the day.

"Hey, it's not my fault the sun rises so early," Evie whines.

We're all smiling as we reach the peak—a little out of breath, but smiling.

"The other bad thing about Fraser's epic grand gesture is that it's going to make it hard for anyone else to match it," Beth says, pulling out her phone.

"How can they?" Amiel asks. "What Fraser did was ripped straight out of a romance bestseller."

"It's not a competition," Evie says, then scrunches up her nose. "Wait. You don't think other guys are going to get all competitive about it, do you?"

Our collective silence says what we're all thinking: that yeah, guys being guys, they're going to get all competitive about it.

"Silver lining," Amiel says, crouching down to fix her shoelace. "With the bar set so high, we're in for a treat…assuming we can get a date."

"I'm all for it," Summer says. "If guys want to improve their dating game, let them. Single ladies deserve to be treated better."

"Hear, hear," Beth says, waving us in nice and close to snap a group selfie.

I manage a smile that I hope masks my tiredness, then plonk my butt down on the bench, exhaling loudly.

I've been pushing myself too hard these past few months, never fully realizing who really bears the brunt of graduation season.

No, not the students—the parents and carers.

I now get why it's called Maycemeber. It's a non-stop barrage of end-of-year concerts, meltdowns, state playoffs, and academic deadlines, not to mention the graduation ceremony and celebration afterward.

It's over now, but May really was a blur.

The top of the sun peeks over the horizon and the conversation quiets into a hushed whisper between Beth and Amiel.

Probably about books.

"The one trope I can't stand is marriage of convenience," Amiel whispers.

Yep. I was right.

I introduced Amiel to the group a few months ago. Everyone adores her, but I love seeing how well she and Beth in particular get along. Beth is—how can I put it delicately?—somewhat of an acquired taste. It's nice seeing her bond with the latest member of the Fast-Talking formerly-Four-now-Five.

Beth tucks a lock of jet-black hair behind her ear and asks Amiel, "What's your beef with marriage of convenience?"

"It never happens in real life," she answers. "At least not in modern times. I like my romances to have a bit of escapism as much as the next girl, but come on—fake marriages are way too far-fetched."

"Actually," Summer chimes in. "Speaking as a lawyer, it's not completely unheard of…"

Evie, who's sitting next to me, offers me a smile. "Are you okay? You seem a little…flat. Here. Want some?" She tips her cup my way.

"I'm okay. But thank you. I know how much it took for you to offer me that."

She smiles. "You're worth depriving myself of a little caffeine."

I smile back. "The truest sign of friendship."

We stare out at the sleepy town of Comfort Bay.

I've lived here all my life, and I love it. But lately, I've been starting to feel a little restless.

When I was a little girl, the thing I wanted to do most was travel. I got a globe for Christmas one year, and I remember spending hours and hours outlining national borders with my tiny fingers, saying the names of cities aloud, wondering what those places were like.

Then I turned thirteen and life happened. I stopped dreaming.

And now I'm on the verge of another major life change.

"What's on your mind?" Evie asks as the sky transforms in front of us, getting lighter by the second.

"Summer." Summer stops talking with Amiel and Beth and spins around. "The season, not the person," I clarify.

Evie takes a second. "Oh, right. Of course. The twins."

"Yeah." I take a sip from my water bottle. "The twins."

The twins are Katie and Chester, my younger sister and brother. Except they feel more like my kids than my siblings.

When we lost Mom, they had just turned seven. Dad fell apart. Grandma moved in. And I went from being their big sister who did jigsaw puzzles with Chester and read and reread Charlotte's Web to Katie every night, to taking on a much more active role in raising them.

Dad was and still is a software engineer, so after Mom died, he upskilled and got a high-paying job for an IT company. The only drawback was the job's location in San Francisco.

He lived and worked there during the week, and until I graduated from high school, he'd do the three-hour drive to Comfort Bay every weekend.

These days, he visits about once a month.

His absence was tough, but it was the best way for him to take care of us financially. It couldn't have been easy for him, either. He and Mom were so happy together. It took him over a decade to start dating again, and even though he occasionally sees someone, he hasn't found what he had with Mom. Whenever I ask him about his love life, he says he'll tell me when he meets someone special.

I insisted Grandma move out once I turned eighteen. She'd put her own life on hold for long enough. I wanted her to enjoy her golden years. She moved to a retirement community on the other side of town—which in Comfort Bay means a fifteen-minute walk away—and I took over running Mom's flower shop.

My life became carpools and homework, extracurricular activities and household chores. It was challenging and stressful and sometimes lonely, and I will always have the deepest respect for single parents. It's tough and often thankless work.

Luckily for me, I had family, great friends, and a wonderful and supportive community.

And Culver.

I can tell him things I can't tell anyone else because he knows what it's like to lose someone you love. He lost his twin brother at the exact same age I was when Mom passed. It's a tragic way to be connected to someone, but it's given us a strong, unshakable bond.

A bond I am never going to destroy.

"What are the twins' summer plans?" Summer asks.

"Katie is going to Wyoming to spend the summer with Dean and his family."

"High school sweethearts are the sweetest," Amiel coos.

"They are. He's the best first boyfriend I could have hoped for for her. And Chester's been working at the grocery store to save up and go to Europe with friends."

"To party?" Beth asks.

I shake my head. "Uh, hello. This is Chester we're talking about."

"Yeah. The star quarterback," Beth counters. "He must be super popular at school, and everyone around town adores him. He'd get plenty of party invites."

"He does. But he's also a massive history nerd. He'd rather geek out at the Acropolis in Athens than get high in Amsterdam."

"You did such a good job with them," Evie says, clutching my forearm.

"I didn't do it alone."

"Sure, but after you graduated from high school, you became their full-time guardian. You deserve to be proud of how great those two turned out," she says.

My heart swells with pride. "Oh, I am. Believe me, I am."

They're both such awesome kids—well-adjusted, kind, resilient, and so smart. Katie was part of a team that made it all the way to the final in the USA Jump Rope National Championship and is heading to UCLA in the fall to study business management.

And Chester never let the stutter he developed in childhood defeat or define him as he got older. He didn't let the bullies win. He started playing sports and made friends, and now, like Beth said, everyone loves him because he's an awesome dude. A little too cocky at times, but generally awesome. He's off to Berkeley and wants to do a double major in anthropology and international relations.

"I'm going to miss them so much, you guys."

As soon as I get the words out, I'm crying.

Tears stream down my face as the exhaustion and stress finally catch up to me. Evie side-hugs me, and the others crouch down in front of the bench.

Amiel hands me a tissue.

"Thank you." I blow my nose. "I'm sorry."

"Hey. Don't apologize," Evie says. "You've been working super hard recently."

"And dealing with two teenagers graduating is a lot," Summer says. "Even if they're as great as Katie and Chester."

"Have you given any more thought to getting someone to help out at the flower shop?" Beth asks.

"Yes. I've given it plenty of thought, especially the part about how I can't afford to hire someone."

That's not entirely true.

I've been squirreling money away for years, but that's for Katie and Chester's college fund, not for me to hire help at the shop.

"Surely Fraser showering Evie with flowers has helped your bottom line," Summer says, half-joking, but she's not wrong.

He actually has.

The order for a thousand yellow roses he bought Evie helped cover the venue hire costs for Chester and Katie's graduation party. Our family has never been as well off as many other people in Comfort Bay, but I always made sure they never missed out on anything.

"It has helped." I fold the tissue into a small square. "It's just…everything. Years of worrying about their safety, their grades, ferrying them to and from after-school activities, keeping them well-fed, making sure the bills got paid, the house was clean." I stop to catch my breath.

"Just alllll the responsibilities."

"You took on a lot," Summer says. "And you handled it like a pro."

"Thanks. I think it's all just catching up to me, you know?" I sniff. "I feel like an empty nester at the age of twenty-five."

"That's because in a way you are," Evie says softly. "But think of it this way—now a new chapter of your life can begin."

"And at least you won't be alone for the summer," Beth points out.

Can't lie. Having Culver stay with me would make me happy anyway, but having him stay with me once the kids are gone is the lifeline I didn't know I needed. I won't be rattling around the house alone. I'll have him. His delicious home-cooked Italian food. The awesome foot rubs he treats me to. And our secret guilty pleasure—watching our favorite reality TV show together.

Uh-oh.

I think I might be smiling.

While still crying a little.

I'm officially a mess.

I need to salvage the situation. "Culver's coming to Comfort Bay for the summer to lie low and regroup—physically and mentally."

The LA Swifts had an up-and-down season. They made it into the playoffs but didn't last as long as they were hoping to. But the worst part of it has been seeing Culver's injuries stack up. First his knee, now it's his hip. Again.

"How's he doing?" Evie asks.

"Physically?"

She nods.

"He had an MRI last week. He's being cagey about the results, so I plan to grill him when I see him."

"And how is he doing mentally?"

I scuff the soil with my foot. "I don't think he's in a great place."

Culver is the king of hiding his true emotions. He could be having the worst day of his life, but unless you really knew him, you wouldn't suspect a thing because he'd be too busy taking care of everyone around him.

"There's a question mark hanging over his spot on the LA Swifts," Evie explains to the girls, saving me from having to.

I let out a long sigh. "Hockey is his life. He doesn't have a backup plan. It's stressing him out."

"He'll find something," Beth says. "And if he doesn't, at least he's earned enough money to buy himself some time until he figures out what his next move will be."

I smile and channel my inner Emma Stone. "Yeah. I'm sure you're right."

The truth is, I'm not sure at all.

Two years ago, Culver helped out a couple of his tech-bro friends launch a startup. They fleeced him good. It destroyed their friendship, and it nearly broke Culver. Not because of the money—even though we're talking about a substantial amount—but because he used to help his parents out.

Like my family, the Palladinos aren't as well off as many people in town—his dad is a firefighter and his mom is a school teacher—so Culver liked being able to use his hockey earnings to assist them.

"So there's really no chance of a friends-to-lovers story happening with you two?" Amiel asks, giving it one last shot.

"Or a marriage of convenience, perhaps?" Beth offers in retaliation.

They engage in a mini stare-off which only ends with Summer clapping her hands together. "I know what you should do."

I lift a finger. "The next word out of your mouth better not be Culver."

"It's not…anymore. This is better. For now, at least."

"Go on," I say cautiously.

"You need to have a hot girl summer."

I slide down the bench. "That sounds exhausting."

"It's not. You could create a list of all the things you'd like to do."

I perk up. I love a good list. But still… "I don't know."

Summer sits down next to me and takes my hands in hers. "You do everything for everyone. You've been that way for as long as I've known you. Now, with the kids gone, you can finally do the things you want to do."

"Counterpoints." I lift a finger into the air as I rattle each of them off. "I have to stay in town. I work six days a week. I have no money. And I'm alone."

"Counterpoints to your counterpoints," Summer says because, as a lawyer, arguing is like breathing to her. "There are plenty of fun things to do in Comfort Bay, especially in the summer. You don't work twenty-four-seven, so you have nights and Sundays free. You don't have to do anything extravagant or that costs too much." Her smile balloons. "And you won't be alone. You'll be with Culver."

"Exactly. And I'm sure he's dying to spend his offseason at the salon watching me get my nails done."

"Miss Patty now offers an executive mani-pedi option," Amiel supplies, completely unhelpfully. "I overheard her talking about it at the bakery the other day. Apparently it's really popular."

"See, Hannah? You're doing it again," Summer interjects, her voice just firm enough to let me know she's serious without slipping into full-on lawyer boss mode.

"Doing what?" I ask.

"Thinking about other people. Enough of that. At least for a while. You need to do this. Be a little selfish and create a list of things you want to do and then spend the summer doing them."

I glance over at Evie. She bobs her head. "I think it's a good idea."

My thoughts splinter down two very different tracks.

One track continues coming up with reasons why this is a terrible idea, while the other track is trying to decide whether to color-coordinate a potential hot girl summer spreadsheet based on the time I have available or the list of activities I'd like to do.

I verbalize the former. "I'm not sure this is really me, you guys."

"All the more reason to try it," Beth gently encourages.

"I know my history with you—with all of you—is the shortest," Amiel says quietly. "But even I can see how you're always putting everyone else's needs ahead of your own."

"I'm just doing what anyone would do in my situation," I say, becoming a little uncomfortable with this conversation.

There's a fine line between being selfless and a victim. Yes, losing Mom when I was young was the most awful thing that's ever happened to me. And yes, it's affected my life in so many ways. Who knows where I'd be or what I'd be doing if she were still with us?

But I refuse to be a victim, and I don't—not even for one second—regret stepping in to help raise Chester and Katie. As tough as it's been, it's been the most rewarding thing I've done in my life so far.

It's also what Mom would have wanted, and I hope that wherever she is, she's proud of me.

Beth's dramatic black bob flutters as she shakes her head. "Hard disagree, babe. You have a terrible habit of overestimating the goodness in others. Luckily, I don't suffer from the same affliction, and I can tell you with absolute certainty that not many people would have stepped up the way you did for your family."

"I just did what needed to be done."

"And right now, what needs to be done is you taking a few months to do you," Summer says emphatically.

Judging by the four heads nodding at me with expectant looks on their faces, I don't have much choice other than to say, "I'll think about it."

Summer clears her throat.

"Okay. Fine. I'll probably do it," I concede.

Beth, Amiel, and Evie clear their throats in a perfectly timed chorus of throat clearing.

"Right. I'm doing it. It's been decided. I'm putting together a hot girl summer list."

They all look at me with wide grins on their faces.

"Well," Evie says, placing her hand softly on my leg. "As long as it's what you want."

I roll my eyes and push to my feet.

We head back into town.

"So," Beth begins. "Did you want us to brainstorm ideas for your hot girl summer, or would you prefer to do it alone?"

"Alone," I reply straight away, because knowing these guys, it's the only way I can ensure the conversation won't veer back to me and Culver.

"That's fine. I can respect that." Beth smirks. "Just don't forget to add Fall for my best friend to the list."

"Ooh, I've got a better one." Amiel's eyes shine mischievously. "Add Fake marry my best friend before falling for him for real to the list. That's two tropes in one!"

"I hate that so much that I actually like it," Beth says, and she and Amiel break out in a fit of giggles.

"It's official," I mutter. "You guys read too many romance novels."

"When is Culver coming?" Evie asks, linking her arm through mine.

"In two days," I reply. "Chester and Katie leave tomorrow, and then he arrives the day after."

"And then your hot girl summer can begin," she says, giving my arm a squeeze.

"Yeah." I draw in a breath, tired and worried and the tiniest bit excited at the same time. "I guess it will."