Oliver and I walk down the street in companionable silence. The crashing waves against the shore provide a little background music, and occasionally our shoes crunch on stray stones. I want to ask where we’re going again, or why he’s bringing me of all people.

I’ve known Oliver nearly my whole life. Three years younger than he and my brother, I always tagged along wherever they went. I know it was annoying; Ben made sure to tell me every chance he got. But Oliver always made me feel included, and I’ve always felt like he was my friend, too.

We hang out on our own sometimes, but there’s something about whatever’s happening here right now that feels…different. Important.

I catch glimpses of the moonlit ocean as we walk between houses, close my eyes to hear the cicadas and the crickets chirping. I breathe in the fresh sea air.

I love this place.

“Are we there yet?” My curiosity is finally getting the better of me.

“Just up here,” Oliver replies, nodding toward the horizon.

“Okay.”

“Be patient. I want to show you something.”

“It better be good,” I tease, tapping his arm with my shoulder. “You’re really building up the suspense here. Anything less than showing me the world’s most gorgeous beach house or, I don’t know, an alien or something is going to be a real let down.”

Oliver laughs. “No aliens. But the beach house…”

We stop at a house at the end of the road, brightly lit from the outside. It’s a villa, totally unassuming from the front, but being located where it is I know that there’s a treasure hiding beyond what we can see from the street.

A well-dressed woman with a sweet smile waits for us on the porch.

“Oliver,” she says. “Good to see you.”

“Thanks for doing this for me Michaela,” he replies. “Felicity, this is Michaela Esposito, my realtor. Michaela, this is my friend Felicity.”

Ah, friend. If a word could punch me right in the gut...

“It’s nice to meet you,” I tell her.

“Likewise.”

“We’ll just be a little while,” Oliver tells her.

“No problem. I’ll be right out here.”

Oliver’s the kind of guy whose reputation and (and bank account) precedes him. He’s the kind of guy you wait for on the porch if he asks to see a house you’re selling. You pretty much let him do whatever he wants in there.

From what I can see of the open floor plan from the entrance, the home is modern, bright and really impressive.

“C’mon,” he says, taking my hand and leading me inside.

Our footsteps echo against the walls as we walk through the place room by room. It’s staged, nothing personal on display at all, but it’s a spectacular home. Six bedrooms, seven bathrooms, a gourmet kitchen. Windows overlooking every part of the shore you could possibly want to see.

I didn’t even know this house existed ten minutes ago, and I want to buy it.

He leads me out onto the back porch, which has an amazing view of the entire beach.

“Let’s sit,” he says. I take a seat on one of the two long outdoor sofas, and Oliver sits next to me.

“Will you please tell me why we’re here?”

He smiles, looking out at the surf. The moonlight catches the highlights in his hair, and I’ve gotta say…the whole look is really working for him.

He leans forward, resting his hands on his knees. “I want to buy this place.”

A few puzzle pieces click into place: why he suggested this long weekend, why he was very particular about the location of the house we rented. What I’m not quite understanding is why he brought me here.

“So buy it,” I reply, grinning. “You own a billion hotels, real estate’s your thing. Buying it is kinda what you do.”

He sits back, taking in a deep breath of fresh air. “This place is special.”

Looking around, I can’t argue with him there. “I agree. Why didn’t you bring Ben over? He’s probably better at assessing the value of the investment than I am.”

“That’s exactly why.” He pulls his leg up on the seat so he can fully face me. I do the same. “He’ll see it as an investment.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “I’m confused. Isn’t this an investment?”

“Yes, but…” He rubs the back of his neck, then clasps his hands together in his lap. “My parents used to bring me here when I was a kid.”

“Here as in this house?”

He nods. “It’s been updated, but the bones are the same.”

I look around, as if something about the patio or the wood siding is going to give me some kind of insight into what Oliver’s thinking here.

“Mom, Dad, and I spent summers here,” he continues. “Dad built fires in the pit and we’d roast marshmallows and watch movies he projected onto the side of the house. We’d get up early in the morning and go down to the beach. He’d throw me into the surf as my mom sat in her beach chair and laughed at us. He taught me how to ride a bike in the driveway. It doesn’t look the same, but it feels the same.”

Oliver doesn’t talk much about his family, probably because his parents had a nasty divorce when he was a teenager and all three of them are pretty much estranged now. But talking about this house? There’s a light in his eyes that I’ve never seen when he’s talked about his childhood.

“I can see why you’d want to buy it,” I tell him, placing my hand on his arm.

“That’s why I brought you,” he replies with a short huff of a laugh. “Ben would look at this as an investment and he’d tell me not to get sentimental over a house.”

That sounds exactly like something my idiot brother would say, and it offends me to my core. “What’s wrong with being sentimental?”

“Clouds the judgment,” he answers. It sounds like an argument he’s heard a hundred times before.

“So,” I begin, leaning closer. “Am I supposed to talk you into this or talk you out of it?”

Oliver stands, walks over to the porch railing and rests his elbows on it. He looks back at the house, and then out at the water. “I want you to give me your honest opinion.”

“Why me?”

“Because I trust you,” he answers without even the slightest hesitation.

I walk over to him, taking my time to look at the view. I also give the piece of real estate he’s agonizing over another look. For the life of me I can’t figure out why he doesn’t just buy it. “I’m still not following what the issue is here, Oliver. Do you think you shouldn’t have something that’s sentimental to you?”

His eyebrows scrunch together, and I can tell I’ve hit the nail squarely on the head.

“It seems indulgent. Frivolous.”

“Sentimentality doesn’t always have a big price tag. What it means to us makes it worth more than money, so don’t think about the cost, think about the value.”

He presses his lips together, still hesitant.

I reach for the chain hanging around my neck, then pull it out so Oliver can see the charm. His eyes immediately light up with recognition.

“Remember the summer I graduated from high school and you, me, Ben, Marisa, and Caleb went to Thailand to celebrate?”

Oliver nods. It was an amazing, unforgettable trip.

“Everyone else went on that bike tour, but I wanted to go to the textile market so you hung back with me. We had khao soi at that busy stall we ate at a thousand times that trip, then stopped in at this tiny jewelry store across the street. I was super into elephants and I was desperate for this necklace, but I’d spent all my baht on yards and yards of silk. You bought this for me, and when you put it around my neck, you said—”

“So you’ll always remember,” he finishes with a soft smile.

I drop the charm under my shirt and press my hand against where it always rests on my chest. “It didn’t cost that much, but it makes me happy when I wear it. The way I feel when I look at it, those memories? They’re priceless. If I lost this necklace, I’d pay anything to get it back. If this house makes you happy, makes you remember the good times, then buying it isn’t frivolous at all.”

He looks like he’s going to hug me, but backs off at the last second. He gives my shoulder a gentle squeeze instead and offers me a warm smile. “Thank you.”

I pat his hand. “You’re welcome. This view alone will be worth however much you wind up paying for it.”

He nods. We stand together a little while longer, just enjoying the quiet night.

“Why did you lie to Ben earlier?”

A spike of adrenaline skips through my system at unexpectedly being called out. “What?”

“Earlier he asked if you had anything else going on and you said no. Why didn’t you tell him about the clothes you’ve been designing?”

“How do you know I’ve been designing anything?”

Oliver turns toward me and raises his brow. “You were up late last night sketching. And a few weeks ago after we all had brunch together, you begged off for work, but you ordered two bagels and a coffee to go. That’s your fabric shopping snack.”

I sigh. Sometimes he knows me too well for my own damn good.

“So why did you lie? Are you embarrassed or something?”

“No!” I scoff. “I’m proud of my work.”

“Then what’s the issue?”

I turn and face the house for a few seconds, then lean back against the railing. “Part of me is worried that I’ve been getting by because of who I am, you know? I got styling clients because my parents are socialites, I got work with Marisa because I’m Ben’s sister. My dad doesn’t want me in fashion; he thinks it’s a waste. I’ve been working hard on this line and I don’t want to debut it on our website, because it’s our website. I want someone to recognize my talent and help me grow. I want to move forward because I’ve earned it, because someone saw something in me and knew I could do more. So I lied because designing and sewing has always just been a hobby for me. I never told anyone that I wanted something more out of it. But…mostly because I don’t want Marisa to know. I don’t want her doing me any favors.”

Oliver grins. “I get that. Sometimes you have to make your own luck.”

“Tell me about it,” I say with a sigh. “About half my time is spent figuring out how to get lucky.”

He lets out a surprised laugh.

“Not like that. I…I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I got it,” he replies with a smile.

“So…” I turn back around, run my fingertips along the balcony railing. “Are you going to whip out your checkbook or what? We’ve probably left Michaela out there long enough.”

With a somber, resigned look Oliver says, “It’s not that simple.”

“What? Why?”

“The woman who owns this property isn’t going to want to sell it to me.”

“Did you sleep with her or something?”

“No,” he replies quickly, like he’s offended. “And for the record I didn’t sleep with Malin Evans either.”

“Okay,” I whisper. I didn’t mean to offend him, but he does kind of have a reputation as a ladies’ man.

“I screwed her out of a business deal, and she still holds that against me. I don’t blame her, really. But I could quadruple the offer and she’d still say no. She’s probably burn it down out of spite if she knew I wanted it.”

“Can’t you buy it under a shell corporation or something?” I’m not sure why I’m throwing out suggestions. Oliver has a whole army of lawyers to figure this out for him.

He takes a few steps forward, gazing up at the house. “I don’t want to use tricks to get this. My whole life is wheeling and dealing, and I’m not proud of the way I’ve worked things to my advantage. I want this to be on the up and up. I don’t want it to be tainted.”

I reach over and comfortingly slide my hand across his back. “We’ll figure something out.”

Back at the rental, Oliver and I are greeted by laughter.

In the living room, my brother and sister-in-law are hanging out with my brother’s other best friend Caleb and Caleb’s wife, Mia.

Clearly the wine’s been flowing, and the two couples are sitting on either end of the giant sectional in the great room. Caleb’s looking handsome in a black suit, a red silk tie hanging loose around his neck. Mia’s rocking a black slip dress that I altered for her the other day.

“Hey,” I say, making a beeline right for Caleb and Mia. I haven’t seen Caleb in a few weeks. They both stand and give me hugs. “You two look gorgeous. What are you doing here? I thought you couldn’t make it?”

“The benefit wasn’t too far and Mia missed you, so we thought we’d stop by.”

“You want something more comfortable?” I ask Mia. She’s already kicked off her heels, but offering her some yoga pants and a tank couldn’t hurt.

She squeezes my hand. “No, we aren’t staying long. Where’ve you two been?”

“Oh, uh…” I wrack my brain for some excuse that sounds reasonable and doesn’t give Oliver away. “I just wanted to take a look at the island at night.”

“Because you can see so much of it in the dark,” Marisa says with a laugh. She looks at Oliver.

“How was the party?” he asks, smoothly changing the subject.

Caleb chimes in. “Same old, same old. A bunch of flattery designed to get into our pockets.”

Mia gives him a playful smack. “You’re getting antisocial in your ripe old age. It was for a good cause!”

He holds his hands up as a peace offering. “It was! But I would’ve given to it even without the dinner. I’d be happy to write a check sitting at home on the couch.”

“I miss getting dressed up,” I say with a dreamy sigh. “I haven’t been to a party in forever.”

The guys all let out long-suffering groans.

“What?” I reply, sounding half as offended as I actually am. “It’s fun picking dresses and getting all glammed up.”

“Not for people who don’t have your interest in fashion, sweetie.” Mia smiles sweetly, places a placating pat on my knee.

“I’d do anything to not have to put on a tux,” Oliver replies.

That’s a damn shame, because he looks so good in them.

“Aren’t you hosting a benefit at one of your hotels next week?” Ben asks.

“Don’t remind me.”

“You could just say no when people ask if you’ll host,” Marisa says. “That’s a thing you know.”

“It’s good for business, it’s good for the people the event benefits. It’s a win all around, apart from having to get dressed up and go there.”

“What’s it for?” I ask.

“A children’s center for a friend of a friend’s hometown.”

“I thought about going and doing something for the site,” Marisa tells me. “I heard Allegra Cruz and Poppy Argyle are going.”

That name catches my attention. Poppy Argyle is one of my favorite designers. She blew onto the scene a couple of years ago, took the fashion world by storm. She and I have a similar aesthetic; I’d love it if she took me under her wing.

An egg of an idea hatches in my brain, letting me know this is the perfect opportunity for me to make my own luck.

“You’re going?” I ask Oliver. I’m barely able to keep my excitement at an acceptable level; I probably look like a rambunctious puppy.

“Yes,” he laughs. “I’m hosting the thing. Not showing up would be bad.”

“Take me with you.” The words tumble out before I have the chance to form them into the best possible sentence. “Take me as your date.”

It takes a second for me to realize what I’m suggesting.

“Not as a date date,” I quickly clarify, because Oliver stills in a way that indicates the prospect of a date date with me isn’t a good one. But I don’t care about that when what I want is so close within my grasp. “I meant as a companion.”

Marisa perks up. “That’s a great idea, Oliver.” Oliver’s excellent at schooling his expressions but even I can see a spark of panic taking root. Dragging his best friend’s tagalong sister to a benefit and having to make the, “no we’re not dating, she’s just a friend” speech all night long is a downer for sure. But I don’t care.

“Yeah,” Mia replies, giving Marisa a look that makes me vaguely nervous before she sets her sights on Oliver. “You should take her.

“You should go,” Ben adds, before turning to Oliver. “Felicity’d probably make an excellent wing woman.”

Well, that about kills it for me. “Never mind, it was just an idea. I don’t want you peer pressured into it.”

“No, no peer pressure.” Oliver smiles a nervous smile. “You should come.”

“Yeah?”

It’s like we’re the only two people in the room. “Yeah.”

“Okay.”

“It’ll be fun,” he says, although I’m not sure he believes it.

I’m too excited about my designs being in Poppy Argyle’s vicinity that it doesn’t really hit me until later, when I can’t sleep.

What have I gotten myself into?