Chapter Twenty-Five

twenty-five

Hillary

Today is the day we save the camp—and the day I finally make up for turning my back on this place and Jessie a decade ago.

I've spent so many years feeling guilty for breaking my promise, but if I hadn't, I never would've gained the skills and expertise I'm using right now to help save Camp Chickawah. It's funny, I used to see my ability to separate my head from my heart as a strength when it came to business. But this project—and this summer—has shown me how powerful it can be when your head and your heart work together. It makes everything more meaningful, and it'll make our victory tonight even sweeter.

And we are going to be victorious.

I'm alone in Jessie's office—she and Dot are helping Zac and Zoey get the boat ready while I'm going over the final details of our offer. Usually, I'd have a PowerPoint presentation, each point displayed on a beautifully crafted slide. But we're taking a more casual approach, discussing the deal over dinner and drinks, which we hope will warm Jack's cold heart. Plus, there's the added complication of being out in the middle of the lake. I suppose we could project the slides against the night sky…

I laugh at the mental image of Jessie and me gesturing to a pie chart dotted with stars and look over the numbers one last time before heading back to the Lodge. I've got just under an hour to rest and get ready for dinner. Thanks to my new sleeping arrangement with Cooper, I haven't been getting much sleep. Not that I'm complaining.

Since our date with the leftovers, something has shifted between us. We're not staying up all night having sex, we're staying up all night talking after having sex, conversations that feel intense and easy at the same time. The sex is different, too—still excellent, but there's more depth, like our goal has shifted from achieving the best possible orgasm to achieving the best possible connection.

It's feeling less like a fling and more like a relationship. I know it can't last, of course—Cooper's roots and connections are in Boston, and mine are in Chicago—but my chest fills with aching sadness whenever I think about having to say goodbye to him.

I'm doing my best to focus instead on what this experience is teaching me—how it's changed the way I think of myself and what I want in a romantic partner. Next time I meet a potential match, I won't be measuring him against a checklist, determining whether he meets enough of the requirements to warrant a second date. Instead, I'll focus on how he makes me feel—hopefully calm and comfortable in my own skin.

Which is exactly how I feel around Cooper.

Just thinking about him makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside, and I walk out of the office with a smile on my face.

It fades as soon as I see the black town car rolling down the gravel road.

A quick glance at my watch confirms it's only four thirty. Shit . The Valentines aren't due for another hour.

I grab my walkie-talkie to give the rest of the staff a heads-up. "The eagles are landing early," I say, before returning the walkie to my holster.

The car rolls to a stop in front of the dining hall. I stand with my hands on my hips and a giant smile on my face, the way I've stood every week for the last two months as we've welcomed each new group of campers. The only difference: those other times, my smile was sincere, and I was actually excited to see our arriving guests.

I strain to see the far side of the camp, hoping to catch sight of Jessie and her braids bouncing toward us. I don't…and the car door is opening. But it's okay. I'll introduce myself and take them over to the Lodge so they can—

"Hillary!"

I take a step back, startled. Because the man who just stepped out of the black car wearing a tailored blue suit and holding at least two dozen roses is not Jack Valentine.

It's Aaron Feinberg. The Aaron Feinberg I broke up with over three weeks ago. The Aaron Feinberg who had zero interest in coming to camp when we were together—so what in the world is he doing here now?

I'm still trying to process everything when someone else gets out of the car, a woman I've never seen before. She's tall and blonde and dressed in all black. One of Aaron's summer conquests?

Shocked, I stare as this woman pulls a large camera out of her bag and starts snapping pictures like it's her job.

Which, I realize with a sinking feeling, it is.

"Aaron!" I choke out. "What are you doing? This isn't—"

"Hillary," Aaron says. "You look…beautiful."

I glance down at myself, and my sense of dread grows. I'm in cut-off jean shorts and a Camp Chickawah T-shirt smudged with paint that wouldn't come out in the wash. There's no way he thinks I look beautiful right now.

The photographer is smiling broadly, snapping pictures, probably interpreting the shock on my face as delight. Which it most certainly is not.

Aaron steps closer to me, then begins to speak, his voice raised, as if he wants to make sure everyone hears him.

"My love," he says, "from the moment I met you, my life transformed in the most extraordinary way. With each passing day, my love for you has grown. I can no longer imagine a future without you by my side."

"Aaron," I say, holding out my hand for him to stop.

He doesn't. In fact, he goes down on one knee, and I freeze with horror.

The photographer keeps snapping pictures, circling us like a hawk.

"Today, as we stand beneath the breathtaking canvas of the setting sun—" He stops, realizing the sun is still high in the sky. Then, flinching, he continues, "…beneath the breathtaking canvas of the afternoon sun, I want to ask you a question that has been burning in my soul for the last two years. Hillary Elizabeth Goldberg, would you do me the incredible honor of becoming my wife?"

He pulls a Tiffany-blue box out of his pocket and opens it.

The silence that follows is deafening. The air is still. Even the birds have stopped chirping.

I'm frozen in shock—why on earth would he think this was a good idea? I've never liked surprises. He knows that. He also knows I broke up with him—he replied with a freaking thumbs-up!

Did my father put him up to this? The thought makes me nauseous. My dad and I haven't been able to talk, but I sent him an email to let him know that I'd ended things with Aaron. I didn't go into detail because A) it's none of his business, and B) I didn't want to jeopardize Aaron's job at the firm. My father's response was curt, imploring me not to make a "stupid mistake" and let a "good guy" like Aaron walk away. I didn't reply.

I'm about to tell Aaron to get up when I hear something behind me. An inhalation of breath so loud it echoes in my ears. I turn to see Cooper, standing in the open doorway of the dining hall. He looks shocked, which is understandable. But he also looks betrayed, which is not. He's known about Aaron from the start, and he knows we broke up.

Before I can ask what's wrong, Cooper takes off, striding toward the lake like he can't get away from me fast enough.

"Cooper!" I yell after him, at the same time Aaron says, "Hillary?"

I sigh, feeling stuck between my past and my present. I want to run after Cooper and ask him what's going on, but I can't leave Aaron hanging. As misguided as this ridiculous proposal is, he flew all the way up here to see me. After two years together, I owe him a conversation.

Aaron's standing now, the pant leg of his designer slacks dusty from the gravel.

"What are you doing here?" I ask, noting with annoyance that the photographer is still snapping pictures.

"Isn't it obvious?" he says with a laugh. "You said you wanted a romantic gesture. Here it is. I never should've suggested a break this summer. It was a mistake—"

"Why was it a mistake?" I ask, folding my arms. "You didn't enjoy your last hurrah?"

He shifts his weight in his shiny leather loafers. "I mean, not really. If I'm being honest, I thought it would go…differently."

I can't help but laugh. "So you didn't get the action you were hoping for?"

"Well, no," he says, "but that's not the only reason. I talked to your dad—"

"What?" I screech. "You told my dad about your ridiculous sexcapades?"

"No, I told him you ended things." He levels a sharp gaze at me. "By text. He was really disappointed in you."

I throw my arms out to my sides. "In me ? You wanted to spend the summer having sex with other women! But of course, you didn't tell him anything that would make you look bad."

"He said I needed to get you back, Hillary, that we're good for each other. That it would be good for our future." Aaron's expression makes it clear that he's thinking about his future at my dad's law firm. "And he's right—we should be together. You said you wanted more romance? I'll be better, I promise. I can learn."

He looks so earnest, but I have a sneaking suspicion that this isn't about me at all—it's about keeping my dad happy. My dad, his boss.

"Aaron, come on. This isn't romance. The roses, the proposal—it's all so generic your little AI assistant could have scripted it."

His eyes go wide and his face turns beet red. The photographer focuses in on a close-up, and I can't help but laugh at the ridiculousness.

"Stop with the goddamn pictures," he snaps at her, then looks back to me. "Hillary, it's time to grow up. Your father agrees—"

"My father doesn't get to decide what I do," I say. "And neither do you. I think you should leave, Aaron. Go home."

He seems like he's about to relent, but then he shakes his head and squares his shoulders. "I'm only going home if you're coming with me. I'm sure you've had a ‘super fun' time doing crafts and hanging out in the woods, but it's time to come back where you belong."

Anger bursts inside me like a flame. "I'm exactly where I belong, Aaron."

And as soon as I say the words, I know they're true.

Static erupts from my walkie-talkie, and I hear Jessie's voice. "On our way back, Hill."

"Please go," I tell Aaron.

He opens his mouth to protest, then closes it again. It's obvious that he's frustrated and annoyed by all the time and effort he put into flying up here, arranging the photographer, picking out a ring—not to mention taking the time off work. All that, and he didn't get what he wanted, which probably hasn't happened many times in his life.

But he is most definitely not heartbroken.

I can't believe I ever thought it would be a good idea to settle for someone like him. Someone who couldn't be bothered to put a single personal thing about me into his proposal.

"I thought this was what you wanted?" he says, his voice low and sullen.

"I thought so, too," I tell him honestly.

With that, he shakes his head and gets back in the car, closing the door on any future we might have had together. The car starts, and the photographer snaps one more picture before running around to the other side and climbing in.

No sooner does the black car pull away than another one comes rumbling down the road. It's not wide enough for them both, and Aaron's driver lays on the horn. The sound, once a familiar part of my city soundtrack, feels like an assault on my ears. I bring my hands up to cover them until the noise stops.

The second car, which I assume is carrying the Valentines—unless someone else has a jilted ex trying to win them back—backs up to let Aaron's car through. Once there's enough room, the driver hits the gas, sending dust and gravel flying.

I flush with embarrassment. And then I realize I have no reason to feel embarrassed. Aaron is no longer my problem or my responsibility. And that knowledge brings relief—that Aaron is gone, and that I wasn't stupid enough to fall for his ridiculous grand gesture. I'm proud of myself for standing my ground, even though I know I'll probably hear it from my dad about my "poor decisions" when I'm back in Chicago.

Growing up, my dad always said I seemed to turn into a different person when I went to camp—almost like that girl was an alternate me and my "real" self was who I was back home. His docile and obedient daughter.

But what if the opposite is true? What if I'm the real me here? Here, where I can sing camp songs with abandon and walk around with paint on my shirt, where I can craft to my heart's content and laugh until my sides hurt?

This summer, I've been able to bring my professional side to camp, too. My head and my heart, working together. For the first time in my life, I'm being my authentic self. All of me, at the same time, in this place.

And now, finally, here comes Jessie, just in time. Impulsively, I throw my arms around her and give her a hug, trying to transmit everything I'm feeling, my gratitude for her friendship, for the opportunity to come back to camp this year and set things right. "Thank you," I whisper in her ear.

When we separate, she raises an eyebrow, looking confused. "What's going on? Who was in that car?"

"I'll tell you later," I promise.

"Was it something to do with Cooper? He stormed onto the boat. Now he's belowdecks, rage-chopping vegetables."

Jessie's words make my stomach twist. I need to find and talk to Cooper. His reaction to Aaron showing up here was bizarre.

"I'll explain that later, too," I tell Jessie. I have to process what happened before I can even think about sharing it.

Her eyes fill with concern. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"

I nod, stuffing the shock of Aaron's proposal and my worry about Cooper into a separate compartment. I'll deal with all that later. Now, I have to focus on what might be the most important business meeting of my life.

As if on cue, the car holding Jack and Mary Valentine rolls up in front of us.

We have a camp to save.