The Summer Girl – Avalon Bay Read Online Elle Kennedy

Categories Genre: Chick Lit, Contemporary, New Adult Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 123435 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 617(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 411(@300wpm)
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“No chance,” she replies, lips pressed tight together as if she’s fighting an onslaught of giggles. “Let’s just say Lorenzo had some … performance issues.”

I gasp.

Tate groans. “No. Why did you have to tell me that? Now I’ll never be able to look him in the eye again.”

When the bill arrives, he tries to reach for it, but Mom firmly divests him of that notion. “It’s on me. I’m just glad you were able to join us. I wanted to meet the boy who’s been sneaking into my daughter’s window this summer.”

He winks at me before answering her. “No comment.”

“I’m glad you two are spending time together. It’s so nice to see you with a boyfriend,” Mom says to me, and I don’t think she’s mocking me.

What planet is this? Are we in another dimension? Either that, or I’ve snagged a guy so hot and perfect that even Mom can’t find fault in him.

“Thank you. This was great,” Tate tells her. “We should do it again while you’re in town.”

“Of course.” She takes the black AmEx the waiter returns to her, quickly signing the check. “And you’ll be accompanying Cassie to the Beacon’s grand reopening in a few weeks?”

He glances at me. “We haven’t really talked about it. I was planning on going, though.” He flashes an awkward smile. A little bashful. “Wanna go together?”

I feel my cheeks reddening. “Sure.”

“Excellent.” Mom pushes her chair back and stands. “I assume your parents will be there too? According to my mother, the Cabot girl invited nearly half the town.”

“I’m not sure,” he replies, helping me out of my seat. “I don’t know if there’s an official guest list. I’ll ask Mackenzie.”

Mom waves a hand. “Your parents are welcome to come as our guests. The Beacon was in the Tanner family for decades.” She winks. “We still have a bit of clout left.”

We reach the door, Tate once again thanking her for dinner before we part ways. He and I have plans to go to the Hartleys’ house, and Mom sashays off toward the Mercedes parked across the street.

Uneasiness swims inside me as I watch her drive away.

“You okay?” Tate asks, interlacing his fingers with mine.

“Yeah. I’m just … baffled.”

“Baffled.”

“Yes. Like, what the hell was that?” I gesture toward her disappearing taillights.

“I don’t know. I thought it went pretty well. I was expecting a lot worse, but it ended up being kind of fun.”

“Exactly. That’s the baffling part. My mother is never this nice. Something’s going on here. First she apologizes to me and buys me a crop top, and now this? This pleasant, condemnation-free dinner without a whiff of tension or a shred of criticism? No. I don’t trust it.”

He grins at me. “Aren’t you the silver-lining girl?”

“This doesn’t qualify as a silver-lining situation. This has never happened before. I told you, she’s not this nice. Especially to me.”

“You’re saying there hasn’t been a single genuine moment between you two in your entire life?” He sounds dubious.

I stubbornly shake my head. “There’s always an ulterior motive with her. An agenda. The last time she buddied up to me this hard, she was going through her divorce with Stu and it turned out she wanted me to sign a written statement from her lawyer claiming Stu emotionally abused her throughout their marriage and she therefore deserved to have their prenup dissolved. Then when I refused, she told me Stu had never even liked me.”

“Damn. Seriously?”

“Seriously. My stepbrother assured me that wasn’t true. But still. That’s why this—” I vaguely motion toward the street and the restaurant. “I don’t get it.”

He goes quiet for a moment. “Have you considered the possibility it’s genuine this time?”

“Fool me once …”

“I get that. And I’m not saying you should blindly trust it. But …” He hesitates. “Maybe she’s realized that having a combative relationship with her daughter isn’t ideal.”

“And when did she have this epiphany?”

He shrugs. “Who knows. Could be because you guys are selling your grandmother’s house, the family business. It’s the end of something, and endings make people nostalgic. Even narcissists. Sometimes it causes them to look inward and take stock of themselves. Triggers self-awareness they may have been lacking before.”

“Maybe.” I’m still not convinced.

“Look, we never truly know our parents. They lived entire lives before we ever came along, you know? All those experiences shaped them, made them who they are, and sometimes people become set in their ways and their personality defects, and it takes something major to jar them into making a change. Who knows what triggered your mother, but maybe she’s ready for that change.”

We start walking down the sidewalk, which is crammed with tourists even on a Wednesday night. It’s so busy we had to park nearly a mile away.

“I think you should give her a shot,” he says. “Be open to the possibility this olive branch is sincere.”



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