Page 6 of No One But Us

It’s blissfully quiet on the other side of the front door. The moon is just breaking through the pines, their needles crunching beneath my sandals as I head to the car I borrowed.

“Your parents let you bring a vintage Porsche Targa to the beach? They weren’t worried about rust?”

I bite my lip. “I didn’t actually ask.”

In a moment he goes from relaxed to wary. “Do they not know you’re here?”

“I don’t think they’d care,” I admit, popping the trunk.

I aim to sound ambivalent about this fact, but it doesn’t quite work. He arches a brow, waiting for me to elaborate.

“My mother hasn’t returned any of my calls, and my dad is mostly worried that I’ll talk to the press and mess up his attempts at damage control.”

James’ mouth pinches tight. He comes to a dead stop in front of me with a suitcase in each hand, and I can’t help but notice the way his biceps flex. “How old is that girl he got pregnant?”

“24. Younger than you.”

“Inconceivable,” he says with a small grin.

I giggle, the same way I did when he first said it to me a decade ago, and his smile fades. “I’m really sorry,” he says. “I can’t believe he had so little self-control.”

* * *

James takes my bags upstairs, and I go find Ginny. We’ve just sat down with Max and a guy named Brooks who works with them when James returns, frowning at our red plastic cups. “Did the two of you time travel to a future where you’re old enough to drink?”

“I’m not being lectured about responsibility by a guy who walked out of his internship on the first day.”

“Enough about the fucking internship, Ginny,” James growls.

I guess the topic has come up once or twice before.

Max laughs. “James, only you would have the daughter of a supermodel on your deck and worry about the law.”

Ginny pulls me from my seat. “Let’s get out of here before James starts trying to tell us we have a curfew too.”

I follow her upstairs. Our room is immaculate, something I’d have expected had I thought about it, because Ginny always was ferociously organized. Her clothes are ordered by shape and then color. Her books by topic, and then height. She keeps her life’s goals on her wall in a complicated Venn diagram. I still remember the first one she did—she was seven.

“Well, they all liked you,” she says, her tone a little regretful. “I feel like I just brought Kate Upton into the house.”

“James didn’t seem too happy about it.”

She waves a dismissive hand. “I don’t know what that was, but he’ll get over it.”

“You still haven’t told me why he’s even here,” I say, plopping down on the bed opposite hers. “What happened to his internship?”

She groans and smacks her forehead. “It’s a disaster. He bailed after the first day. The first day!” she cries. “My parents are freaking out. I mean, you know how my mom gets, first of all. But this is our family business. He was supposed to take over. And if he doesn’t, I’ll have to.”

“Wow,” I say quietly. It’s a pretty spectacular derailment, especially for the firstborn of the hyper-achieving Campbells. Though no derailment could be as bad as mine. “What happened?”

“I have no freaking idea! Last summer went just fine,” she says. “Allison thinks he’ll come to his senses, but he’s making my parents look so bad right now. I mean, how can they offer him an associate’s position next year after he’s pulled this shit?”

Allison? Who the fuck is Allison? Something begins sinking in my stomach. “Who’s Allison?”

“Oh,” she says, looking at me with her head cocked to the side. “I never told you? She’s his girlfriend.”

Given that I haven’t even seen the guy since I was 14, the words hit me surprisingly hard. “I didn’t know he had a girlfriend,” I say weakly.

“Yeah,” she says. “I can’t believe I never mentioned her. She’s awesome.” This is somewhat redundant. As if James would date someone who wasn’t awesome. “She’s brilliant. Law review, dean’s list, the whole deal.”