Page 59 of The Edge of Summer

He grins. “You look as perfectly put together as you were when you got here and no one will suspect a thing.”

Even though I know it’s a lie, I still believe him. Enough to swallow my awkwardness and rejoin the Bowmans in the kitchen like I hadn’t just been in their shed getting absolutely debauched. The mimosa Clara slides across the table does little to cool my flaming cheeks, but it does put a damper on the butterflies running rampant in my stomach.

And when Luke’s arm returns to the back of my chair, the mimosa goes down like a shot.

CHAPTER

TWENTY-TWO

DELILAH

Mitchell

You can’t ignore me forever, Delilah.

You’re dealing with your parents’ deaths in a really unhealthy way.

I’m worried about you. Let me help. Running isn’t the answer.

Fuck. Off.

Mitchell

One day you’re going to realize I’m not the bad guy here.

It takesgreat effort to stop myself from throwing my phone at the wall. I was in a good mood this morning, and then he had to go and threaten to ruin it. Instead of wrecking my phone, I stuff it into my back pocket and head out to the floor. When I spot Carole, mynew favourite person on Kip Island, talking to Clara, I shove Mitchell and his texts out of my brain. I can worry about him another day.

“Hi, Chickadee,” Carole says as she pulls me into a hug. I have yet to figure out why she calls me that, but it’s quirky and I love it.

I smile. “Hi, Carole.” I hold on just a second longer than I probably should, but I’m in need of a hug right now. She seems to understand as she squeezes me extra tight. “How are you?”

When she pulls back, her gaze is soft. “Oh, just lovely. I actually came by because I wanted to deliver this in person.”

“Deliver what?” I ask. I ordered some prints from a local artist whose work had been displayed in the gallery the last time I was there, but I already picked those up yesterday. As far as I know, I haven’t ordered anything else.

She grins as she produces a large manilla envelope from her bag and extends it toward me. “Congratulations, Delilah! You won!”

I take the envelope in confusion. “Won what?”

Carole’s smile falters. Nowsheis the one who is confused. “The photography contest, Chickadee. You won first place.”

Hold on. Iwhat?

“But—” My gaze swings from the older woman to Clara and then back again. “But I didn’t enter.” I push the envelope into Carole’s hand. “There must be some mistake.”

“It’s definitely not a mistake,” my best friend interjects. “You deserve this, Dee.”

After some mild begging on her part, I caved and showedClara some of the pictures I’ve taken over the years. Now I’m thinking that was a mistake.

I turn suspicious eyes to her. “Did you give Carole my portfolio?”

She holds up her hands. “I swear to God, I didn’t. I won’t lie—I was thinking about it. But I ultimately decided not to. I figured you would kill me if you found out, and I kind of like being alive.”

“Who submitted my work?” I ask Carole. “Because it certainly wasn’t me.”

“I’m not sure. It was given to one of the panelists anonymously. I can try to find out, but…” She offers me the envelope again. “Clara is right, Delilah. Youdodeserve this. I wasn’t on the judging panel, but I have had the privilege of seeing your portfolio and it is breathtaking.”

Breathtaking.