So, that was the extent of my instructions. An address. That and, “Fix this, Summer. I believe in you.” Oh, and, “Don’t let that fucker charm his way into your bed.” I smiled and said, “What about his bed?” “You’ll be the death of me, girl,” he groaned as he waltzed out of the boardroom, looking like the Cheshire Cat. And that was that. Full trust that throwing me into the life of my childhood crush will be just fine. Though he probably doesn’t even remember that.
