Spark Read Free

reflection. “I know, love. I know I’m better off without him, but my heart just hasn’t caught up with what my head’s been trying to tell me. It’s like I have this newly enhanced superpower: hindsight. And I’m able to see hints and clues that were right there in front of me for ages. I just wish I could’ve been the one to dump his cheating ass rather than giving him that power. You know?”
    “I do. I remembered odd little clues for months.” Hugo recalled from his own experience. “But it hurts just as bad no matter who does the breaking up. Granted, it felt amazing kicking Michael out when I found out, but in the end, I was just as miserable as you are. And despite the cliché, it really does get easier. Wine helps. Social interaction. So let’s get to that party.”
    Ten minutes later, Summer and Hugo were walking along the side yard of a house—not a cabin but a full-fledged house that had to be worth close to a million without it being located on the shoreline. The location at least doubled its value. Possibly tripled it. Needless to say, Myles was swimming in money. Apparently, selling farm implements could make one quite wealthy. The sounds of people drifted around the corner, so they made their way toward the shore.
    Strings of lights decorated the yard between the house and the beach like tiny, hovering moons, making Hugo want to sit and enjoy the outdoors. A whisper-thin man in a dove-gray cowboy hat raised his hand and walked toward them. If this was Myles, Summer couldn’t have been more right. He was wearing Wrangler jeans so high up his waist they looked like mom jeans but were held up by a stereotypically large belt buckle. They did nothing to hide what he was packing in his pants, and that was probably intentional, although Hugo wondered how there was room for his balls. For a man who had to be in his mid-thirties if he was a classmate of Summer’s, he looked as if he were no more than seventeen, until Hugo noticed the sun damage around his eyes and mouth.
    As Myles greeted Summer, commenting, ad nauseam, on how beautiful she looked, Hugo looked around and saw several other people who looked to be in their early- to mid-thirties. There was also a couple in their fifties or sixties who Hugo estimated were Myles’s parents by the way they manned the grill and filled people’s plates.
    “This is my best friend, Hugo Thorson,” Summer introduced, bringing Hugo’s attention back to the man in front of him.
    “Hi. You must be Myles. Nice place you have here.”
    Myles reached out to shake hands and smiled, showing a gap between his two front teeth, which made him look a bit like Alfred E. Neuman from Mad Magazine , minus the red hair and freckles. It was hard to make out his hair color under his hat. Dark. Maybe brown or dirty blond.
    “Thanks. It was good of you to come on such short notice. Go on and get a plate. There’s plenty of food.”
    As Myles took off to uncork the wine they’d brought, Hugo turned to Summer and whispered, “You were right. Not my type at all.”
    “Told ya!” she said with a laugh as she pulled him to the long table heavily laden with food.
    People gathered in groups all around the yard on either lawn chairs or scattered blankets. After filling both their plates, Hugo followed Summer and settled down on a floral blanket as she introduced him to six people whose names he knew he’d never remember. As he ate, Summer caught up with her high school friends who came and went. She had to repeat several times that “No, Hugo is not my boyfriend,” “… or fiancé,” “… or husband. He’s my best friend.”
    Despite being fairly outgoing, Hugo hung back and only added bits and pieces to the conversation when called for. It was good to see Summer enjoying herself, smiling and laughing at recalled stories of some of her crazier antics from when she was young.
    She seemed different around these friends than when she was alone with Hugo. With him, Summer was