Page 59 of The Comeback Summer

HANNAHF:They’re married...

HANNAHF:... to other people

ADAMR:Ahh

HANNAHF:It’s okay. They’re happy, I guess. We aren’t close. But my sister is all the family I need.

My eyes unexpectedly well with tears. Hannah and I have been through a lot together, especially the last few years. And now I feel all this pressure to make everything okay for her, even though I have a sinking feeling we’re in over our heads with these challenges, with Josh being back in the picture, and the business slipping away from us.

ADAMR:Is your sister older or younger?

I type “younger” out of habit, then catch myself and go back to type “older.”

ADAMR:And you two are close?

HANNAHF:She’s my best friend

It’s weird putting words about me in my sister’s mouth, but I’m pretty sure she would say something similar. I still have the “best friends forever” bracelet she gave me when she was twelve and I was fourteen. Our last summer at Camp Sabra.

ADAMR:Nice. I always wanted a sibling. It would definitely make all this parent stuff easier.

HANNAHF:Maybe it’s not too late...

HANNAHF:Women are having children older all the time. I think a woman in the UK had a kid at eighty!

ADAMR:Oh god, that’s terrifying. I can just picture my mom breaking the news to me and saying—well, you wouldn’t give me a grandchild...

HANNAHF:Ha! Isn’t it crazy how society can be evolved in so many ways, yet parents are still pressuring their kids to procreate?

ADAMR:Seriously. I think my parents were more disappointed than I was when my wedding didn’t happen.

His wedding?

There were a lot of pictures with that pretty fashionista on his Instagram, but I’m pretty sure I would remember if he’d brought up a wedding or an almost-wife.

The revelation is enough to make me question everything he’s told me, everything I thought I was starting to feel. It’s a good reminder of how easy it is to hide things about yourself when you’re chatting with someone online.

And yes, I’m aware that I’m hiding something even bigger from him.

For a brief moment, I imagine a world where Adam isn’t really Adam—that he has a Hot First Cousin or Hot Best Friend who is chatting for him, just like I’m messaging him on behalf of Hannah. I can picture it, me standing in the wings, watching as the real Adam and the real Hannah sit together at a romantic, candlelit table. I’ll feel that weird combination of happy and sad—until I spot someone standing off to the other side, almost hidden in the dark shadows.

We’ll lock eyes, and something in me will recognize something in him. We’ll walk toward each other, unable to ignore the pull between us. And now that our work is done, now that the real Adam and the real Hannah are together, the two of us imposters can live out our own love story. A double Cyrano.

I sigh, reminding myself that my life is not, and will never be, a romance novel.

Looking back at Adam’s last message, I’m not sure how to respond to this casual truth bomb.

Two minutes pass.

I’m still trying to find the right words when Adam breaks the digital silence.

ADAMR:Btw—calling off a wedding is 2/10.

ADAMR:Although I suppose it’s better than marrying the wrong person

I readjust the pillows behind me, feeling more at ease with the conversation since it seems he’s comfortable talking about it.

HANNAHF:How long ago did that happen?

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