“Actually, I was reaching for the same book she was.”

Joyce slowly turned toward him.

The bookstore.

Their agreed-upon story.

Good.

“And what book was that?” Aunt Linda asked immediately.

Gabriel picked up his water glᴀss.

“The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo.”

Joyce blinked.

That wasn’t the book they’d agreed on.

She had told him The Night Circus.

Her eyes narrowed.

Gabriel took a sip, completely unbothered.

“Joyce told me afterward that she’d already read it twice.”

Grandma Ruth nodded approvingly.

“That’s a good book.”

Joyce forced a smile.

“Yes. It is.”

Under the table, she nudged Gabriel’s shoe.

He nudged hers back.

Her mother leaned forward.

“So, Daniel, what exactly do you do?”

“I’m a product designer.”

Joyce nearly dropped her fork.

Gabriel continued without missing a beat.

“I work with a small team developing digital products for businesses. Mostly solving problems people didn’t realize they had until something stopped working.”

“Sounds complicated,” Aunt Linda said.

“Sometimes.”

“And you make good money?” her mother asked.

“Mom!”

“What? I’m asking a reasonable question.”

Gabriel smiled.

“Enough to pay my bills and occasionally buy Joyce dinner.”

Grandma Ruth laughed.

“That’s the answer I like.”

Joyce stared at her plate.

This man had known her for approximately four hours, and he was already winning over three generations of Whitmore women.

Then Emily spoke.

“So, Daniel, how serious are you two?”

Joyce looked up.

Emily had that familiar expression.

The one she wore whenever she was about to turn a casual conversation into a compeтιтion.

“We’re happy,” Gabriel answered.

“That’s not what I asked.”

“Emily,” Joyce warned.

“No, I’m curious.” Emily rested her chin on her hand. “Joyce has never introduced anyone to the family before. Fifteen months is quite a long time to keep someone hidden.”

Joyce felt her cheeks warm.

Gabriel placed his hand over hers beneath the table.

“She’s private,” he said. “I actually like that about her.”

The table went quiet for a moment.

Joyce looked at him.

He was smiling at Emily, but his fingers had gently settled around hers.

It was convincing.

Too convincing.

Then Grandma Ruth asked the question Joyce had been dreading.

“Have you talked about marriage?”

Joyce inhaled sharply.

“Grandma—”

“I’m seventy-five, sweetheart. I don’t have time for people who date for ten years and still can’t decide whether they like each other.”

Gabriel chuckled.

“We’ve talked about the future.”

Joyce turned so quickly she almost gave herself whiplash.

The future?

Gabriel squeezed her hand once.

“But we’re not in a hurry,” he added. “I think the best things deserve a little patience.”

Grandma Ruth smiled.

“I like him.”

Joyce wanted to disappear beneath the table.

Later that evening, Joyce found Gabriel standing on the back porch.

The Charleston night was warm, and the garden was lit by small golden lights. Through the glᴀss doors, she could hear her family laughing over dessert.

She closed the door behind her.

“What was that?”

Gabriel turned.

“What?”

“The future?”

He slipped his hands into his pockets.

“Your grandmother asked a question.”

“You could have said we’re taking things one day at a time.”

“I did.”

“You said we’d discussed the future.”

“We have.”

Joyce stared at him.

“We invented our relationship on a cocktail napkin.”

“Technically, we have discussed fifteen months of it.”

She tried not to smile.

Failed.

“You’re impossible.”

“So I’ve been told.”

For a moment, neither spoke.

Then Gabriel looked at her more seriously.

“Are you okay?”

The question caught her off guard.

“I’m fine.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Joyce looked through the glᴀss doors.

Her mother was showing Grandma Ruth something on her phone. Aunt Linda was laughing. Emily was leaning against her fiancé.

They looked happy.

And somehow, Joyce still felt like the only person in the room who didn’t quite belong.

“It’s just exhausting,” she admitted. “Every family gathering becomes a referendum on my life. My job. My apartment. My relationship status. Whether I’m going to have children. Whether I’m wasting my best years.”

Gabriel listened without interrupting.

“I love my family,” she continued. “But sometimes I wish they could look at me without immediately trying to fix something.”

He nodded.

“Then maybe we should make sure they see you this weekend.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means you don’t owe anyone an explanation for being happy with your life.”

Joyce looked at him.

For once, she had no clever response.

Then he smiled.

“Besides, I’m an excellent fake boyfriend. I deserve at least one compliment.”

She laughed.

“One.”

“I’ll take it.”

The next morning, Joyce woke to a message from her mother.

Mom: Daniel is wonderful. Grandma wants you both at breakfast at ten. Wear something nice.

Joyce groaned.

Another message appeared.

Mom: Also, your grandmother has something important to tell everyone.

That was strange.

Grandma Ruth rarely announced anything important before coffee.

At ten, Joyce and Gabriel entered the dining room together.

Everyone was already seated.

Grandma Ruth stood near the fireplace, holding a small velvet box.

Joyce immediately felt uneasy.

“What’s going on?”

Grandma Ruth smiled.

“Come here, sweetheart.”

Joyce approached.

Her grandmother took her hand.

“You know your grandfather and I bought the little house on Sullivan’s Island when we were first married.”

Joyce nodded.

She knew the story.

The tiny white cottage where her grandparents had spent nearly every summer of their marriage.

“Your grandfather always wanted it to stay in the family,” Ruth continued. “I’ve been thinking about what to do with it.”

Joyce’s mother exchanged a glance with Aunt Linda.

Emily sat up straighter.

Grandma Ruth opened the velvet box.

Inside was a small silver key.

“I’ve decided to leave the cottage to you, Joyce.”

Silence.

Joyce stared at the key.

“Me?”

“You’ve always loved that place. You spent every summer there with us.”

“Grandma, I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t need to say anything. Just promise you’ll keep it full of memories.”

Joyce felt tears gathering.

Then her mother spoke.

“Mother, are you sure?”

Grandma Ruth looked at her.

“Of course.”

“But the cottage needs work. And Joyce lives in the city. She hardly has time to take care of herself, let alone a property.”

Joyce’s fingers тιԍнтened around the velvet box.

“Mom, I can handle it.”

“I didn’t say you couldn’t.”

But the tone said otherwise.

Emily suddenly smiled.

“Well, that’s wonderful. Though it might make more sense for the cottage to go to someone who’s already planning a family.”

Joyce looked at her cousin.

“What does that have to do with anything?”

Emily shrugged.

“Nothing. I just mean, a couple with children could make better use of it.”

Gabriel set down his coffee.

“Joyce has been part of that house’s memories since she was a child. I think that’s a pretty good reason.”

Emily’s smile stiffened.

Grandma Ruth nodded.

“Exactly.”

For a moment, the room settled.

Then Joyce’s mother asked something that made her stomach drop.

“Daniel, since you and Joyce are serious, perhaps you should both think about how to manage the property.”

Gabriel looked at her politely.

“That’s Joyce’s decision.”

Aunt Linda chuckled.

“Well, isn’t he respectful?”

But Joyce noticed something else.

Emily wasn’t looking at the key anymore.

She was looking at Gabriel.

And she looked as though she recognized him.

An hour later, Joyce was in the kitchen when Emily appeared in the doorway.

“Can I ask you something?”

Joyce sighed.

“If this is about the cottage, the answer is no.”

Emily ignored her.

“Where did you meet Daniel again?”

“At a bookstore.”

“Which one?”

Joyce froze.

“Why?”

“I’m just curious.”

“Emily, you’ve asked that three times.”

Her cousin crossed her arms.

“Because something about him feels familiar.”

Joyce’s pulse quickened.

“What are you talking about?”

Emily lowered her voice.

“I think I’ve seen him before.”

“That’s impossible.”

“Maybe.”

Then Emily glanced toward the living room, where Gabriel was helping Grandma Ruth carry a tray.

“Joyce, are you absolutely sure you know who you’re dating?”

The question landed harder than it should have.

Before Joyce could answer, Emily walked away.

That afternoon, Joyce finally cornered Gabriel in the guest room.

“Emily thinks she’s seen you before.”

Gabriel was folding a shirt.

He stopped.

“Where?”

“She didn’t say.”

“Did she mention a name?”

“No. Why?”

For the first time since they had met, Gabriel looked genuinely uncomfortable.

He put the shirt down.

“Joyce, I need to ask you something.”

She folded her arms.

“Go ahead.”

“Did your grandmother ever mention a man named Thomas Whitmore?”

Joyce frowned.

“My grandfather?”

“No. Someone else.”

“I don’t think so. Why?”

Gabriel hesitated.

Then he reached into his jacket and pulled out his phone.

He opened a pH๏τograph and turned the screen toward her.

It showed a younger man standing outside a white beach cottage.

Beside him was a woman Joyce recognized immediately.

Her grandmother.

But the man wasn’t her grandfather.

Joyce leaned closer.

“Who is that?”

Gabriel looked directly at her.

“My father.”

Joyce’s stomach тιԍнтened.

“Your father?”

“His name was Thomas Hayes.”

She stared at him.

“Why are you showing me this?”

Gabriel took a breath.

“Because before he died, he told me about a woman he had loved when he was young. A woman named Ruth Whitmore.”

Joyce felt the room tilt.

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“I know.”

“My grandmother was married to my grandfather for fifty-two years.”

“I know that too.”

“Then why are you here?”

Gabriel looked down at the pH๏τograph.

“Because my father left me something. A letter, a pH๏τograph, and a name.”

He paused.

“Your grandmother’s.”

Joyce shook her head.

“You approached me on that plane because you knew who I was?”

“No.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I didn’t know it was you until you introduced yourself.”

“Then why did you suggest pretending to be my boyfriend?”

Gabriel was silent for a moment.

“Because I thought it was a coincidence. And because I wanted to meet your family without explaining why I was asking questions about your grandmother.”

Joyce stepped back.

The fake relationship suddenly felt like the smallest lie in a room full of much bigger ones.

“You used me.”

“I didn’t plan for this to happen.”

“But you knew something.”

“Yes.”

“And you let me bring you here.”

Gabriel’s voice softened.

“Joyce, I didn’t come here to hurt you. I came because my father spent the last years of his life trying to understand why he was separated from the woman he loved.”

He turned his phone around again.

There was another pH๏τograph.

This one showed Ruth standing beside Thomas, both of them much younger.

On the back, in faded handwriting, were seven words:

If we ever have a granddaughter, tell her.

Joyce stared at the pH๏τograph.

Then someone knocked sharply on the bedroom door.

“Joyce?”

It was her mother’s voice.

“Your grandmother wants to see you. Right now.”

Joyce opened the door.

Her mother stood there, pale and visibly shaken.

Her eyes moved from Joyce to Gabriel.

Then she said something that made Joyce’s blood run cold.

“Why is Thomas Hayes’s son in my mother’s house?”

Gabriel went completely still.

Joyce turned toward him.

Her mother stepped inside and closed the door.

“Because,” she whispered, “there is something about that family your grandmother promised she would never tell.”

And from downstairs, Grandma Ruth called out:

“Joyce, darling. Bring Gabriel with you.”

A long silence followed.

Then her grandmother added, in a voice Joyce had never heard before:

“It’s time you both learned the truth about your grandfather.”