Page 79 of Plotting Summer

Jane is definitely not telling me something, and I don’t know what to do about it. Not even a little. We never keep secrets from each other. “Okay.”

She starts leading me back toward the group. “So, is your relationship with Tristan still hush-hush?”

“For now.”

Jane’s gaze goes to the others. “Maybe you should at least tell Bridget so she can back up off your man.”

I follow her line of sight, and sure enough, Bridget is standing in front of Tristan, smiling up at him and touching his arm to excess. His hands are shoved in his pocket, but he’s nodding at whatever she’s saying.

I’m not worried. And then one more time so I believe it: I’m not worried.

But I am glad when Jane steers us toward Cat and Gemma, so I don’t have to face Bridget. Even if I kind of want to intrude on her and Tristan’s conversation.

“Hey, Capri,” Cat says with a smile when Jane and I step up next to them. “We were wondering when you’d get here.” Her gaze slides to Tristan, then Bridget. “Did you come with Tristan?”

“Yeah. He gave me a ride.” I say it like it’s the most insignificant news in the history of all news, but Gemma’s twitching lips are evidence she isn’t fooled. She saw exactly what we were up to the other night. Thankfully, she doesn’t say anything. “Where’s Beau?” I ask, mainly because I need something else to talk about and it’s the first thing that pops into my head. With the way she blushes, I’m now fighting my own smile. There’s definitely something going on between the two of them even if Tristan refuses to believe it.

“He got a call about some kids letting off fireworks, but he’ll be back soon.”

“Can we join you?” Tristan asks, stepping up behind me. We all instinctively spread out, and Tristan moves in next to me, his arm brushing against mine. He sends me a brief conspiratorial smile that reminds me what it is we’re hiding. A jolt of pleasure surges through me until it’s immediately extinguished when Bridget steps to his other side. Noah Belacourt joins the circle as well and glances at Cat in a way that catches my attention. She meets his gaze momentarily before intentionally dropping hers to the ground. My romance-author senses are buzzing with the tension I’m picking up on, but I quiet my thoughts. With Bridget’s focus on Tristan, I don’t want to get distracted with potential story ideas.

“Well, isn’t this just like old times?” Bridget's smiling eyes move across the other faces, pausing briefly on me as if she’s not certain why I’m here. Then she looks up at Tristan. “It’s crazy how little has changed.”

A few nods and awkward glances pass between the group, or maybe I’m just projecting that on the others with how completely out of sorts I’m feeling.

“I don’t know,” Tristan says. “I feel like a lot has changed.”

She flutters her thick eyelashes. “Not the important things.”

My face begins to warm. Not from jealousy (not entirely, anyway) but from indignation. And it’s aimed at myself. How can I even be frustrated at Bridget when she has no idea about me and Tristan? I mean, yeah, it’s annoying that she thinks she can treat him the way she did and then show up and bat her long, gorgeous eyelashes and stroke his arm with those lovely, manicured fingers of hers and he’ll instantly forgive her. But even there, I can’t blame her for trying. Tristan is incredible. And sometimes it takes a huge reality check to realize what it is we gave up. Which apparently is exactly what Bridget’s gotten by choosing Logan over him.

But ultimately, it’s Tristan who’s in this tricky position because of my fear of being discovered. Because he can’t simply wrap his arm around me or plant a kiss on me to make his point.

His hand closest to me is hanging by his side, so I subtly reach over and loop my index finger with his pinkie. His gaze slides to me, then drops down to our hands, a smile forming on his lips. It’s a small gesture. A teeny tiny baby step, but it’s something. He shifts toward me, the closeness of our bodies concealing our subtle hint from those around us.

We spend the next hour or so in this way—sharing secret touches as we sing along with the band, dance as a group, and chat with old friends (well, as I mostly listen). Even Walker comes and hangs out with me for a bit, and it’s hard to stay mad at him. So I don’t. Instead, we talk about his upcoming trip to Scotland and how his golf game is going. Apparently, it’s improved a lot since he's come back to Sunset Harbor, which is amazing. I hope he’ll remember that the next time he doesn’t want to come home. I also dance with Tala, Serenity, and Grandma (I have no idea how Virginia convinced her to come), and I have a great chat with Gemma about what she’s been up to since her family moved away.

It isn’t until Tristan is returning with a drink for me that I take the opportunity to slip away from my current conversation with Jane and Cat.

He holds out my drink as I approach him. “One Diet Coke.”

Before I can thank him, Bridget steps up next to us and gives Tristan a smile meant solely for him. “I didn’t realize you were taking drink orders.”

Tristan hesitates, obviously not sure what to say. “I overheard Capri say she was thirsty, and I was getting myself a drink, so I thought I’d grab her something.”

“And you knew exactly what she wanted?” When neither of us respond, her lips part slightly. “Are the two of you⁠—”

“Hey, Tristan.” Noah slaps a hand on Tristan’s shoulder before pausing, his gaze shifting between the three of us. “Sorry, did I interrupt?”

“Not at all,” Tristan says. “Did you need something?”

Noah blows out a breath. “It can wait.”

Tristan looks from Noah to Bridget, then to me. Sensing his question, I give a subtle nod. For me, him leaving me alone with Bridget is preferable to her interrogating the two of us together, especially with Noah as witness. He likely knows more than I care for Bridget to. “Let’s chat.” Tristan gestures to Noah, and the two of them walk a few paces away.

“So,” Bridget says, drawing a step closer. “What’s up with you and Tristan?”

My throat feels dry, so I take a drink, but the fizz of the soda is far from relieving. “We’re friends.”