“I’m sorry I never told you about my father,” Ellie said. “I wanted to. You have no idea. But Mom was always worried this would happen.”

Quinn tilted her head. “What?”

“That the news would get out and everyone would know the truth,” she explained. “About who we are. And who he is. And where we came from.”

“Ellie, come on,” Quinn said with a small smile. “Nobody here cares about that. You’ve lived here how long? You think anyone who knows you would care about some scandal that happened a million years ago?”

“Well, they do now,” Ellie pointed out. “You said the word’s out there. All those articles…”

Quinn laughed. “That’s practically a footnote,” she said. “Really. All anyone cares about is Graham.”

Ellie stared at her. “What?”

“Do you think people would rather read about Paul Whitman’s daughter or Graham Larkin’s girlfriend?”

“I’m not his—”

“Trust me,” Quinn said, popping a piece of taffy in her mouth. “You are.”

Ellie leaned back in her chair and shook her head in wonderment. Her father had always loomed large against the background of her life, his absence so big it almost felt like a presence. Now, the idea that Graham—who she’d only just met—could somehow turn out to overshadow him struck her as amazing. All this time, she thought Graham’s fame would be the thing to tip her off balance. But he’d managed to salvage the whole situation simply by being himself. To almost everyone else in the world, he was far more important than Ellie’s father. And it took her only a moment to catch up to them, to realize—with a little shock—that he was more important to her too.

Quinn sent another piece of taffy sailing across the wooden table in her direction, and Ellie reached out to stop it. “My mom’s still gonna kill me.”

“Maybe,” Quinn said merrily, now fully back to her old self. “But once she’s done with that, how about we grab some sparklers and head down to the beach? You can even bring your boyfriend, now that you guys have been outed.”

“Only if you bring yours too,” Ellie said, and Quinn’s smile broadened.

They swept the rest of the taffy into the cardboard box, then pushed back their chairs and walked out to the front of the store together. The sky was turning gold at the edges, the waning light glinting off the band’s instruments. Ellie could see Meg from the deli making snow cones just beside it, and farther down, Joe from the Lobster Pot was standing beside an oversize grill, a spatula in one hand and a chef’s hat perched at an angle on his head.

The whole town seemed to be out tonight, and the invisible boundaries of a dance floor had been loosely arranged, the first few brave couples out for a spin. Behind it all, the ocean was dark and glittery, and Ellie thought of the Go Fish, still docked in the town of Hamilton, and of those few quiet moments at the bow with Graham by her side before everything had gone wrong.

When she shifted her gaze back to the party, she saw her mom weaving past a line of children at the ice cream station. Ellie felt a hitch in her chest at the sight of her, and she turned to Quinn, who had fallen uncharacteristically silent.

“I should go talk to her,” Ellie said. “But we’ll meet up later.”

Quinn nodded. “We always do.”

Outside, Ellie hurried across the street before she had a chance to lose her nerve. Even as she walked, she found she was bracing herself against the stares that were sure to come her way. She’d seen how far and wide the story about Graham and the photographer had traveled in such a short time, and if her name was now out there too—not to mention the name of her father—then there was no reason not to think everyone in town already knew.

And it was clear that they did, their eyes tracking her progress across the lawn. But there was also something odd about the way they surveyed her as she walked past; it was like they weren’t looking at her so much as around her, their gazes skirting the edges of her, hopeful and searching. They were looking for someone else, she realized. They were looking for Graham.

Ellie felt like laughing. Quinn was right. Nobody cared about who her father was or why they’d come to this town in the first place. All they cared about was that the movie star in their midst had chosen one of them. And now they wanted to see for themselves.

Mom was standing at one of the tables, her back to Ellie as she refilled her glass of lemonade. When she turned around, the hand holding the pitcher trembled a bit, and though Ellie had expected her to be angry—and rightfully so—all she saw was the relief that was scrawled so plainly across her face.

“Where have you been?” she asked, setting down the pitcher. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” Her eyes seemed to hold another question, but she didn’t ask it. Instead, she turned and peeled a star-spangled paper plate from the pile on the table. “Grab some food,” she said, handing it to Ellie. “We’ve got some catching up to do.”

Ellie’s stomach grumbled as she filled her plate with huge spoonfuls of potato salad and macaroni, topping it off with a hot dog and a cupcake, and then she balanced a glass of lemonade in the crook of her arm and followed her mother across the green to where she’d laid out the same plaid blanket they used every year.

“Where’s Bagel?” Ellie asked, sitting cross-legged, the food spread out in front of her.

“I took him home after he stole his second hamburger.”

Ellie laughed, picking up her cupcake, which had a tiny flag drawn on top of the white frosting. “Have you been here all day?”

Mom didn’t answer. She settled down across from Ellie, holding her blue cup of lemonade with two hands. “Have you checked your phone at all?” she asked, her expression serious.

Ellie shook her head. “I lost it.” She knew what was coming next, and she knew what she should say, but somehow I’m sorry didn’t seem like nearly enough. She’d given away the secret that had run like a thread throughout their lives. And now the whole thing had unraveled in exactly the way that Mom had said it would, and there was nothing that Ellie could do to change it. Maybe it would help that the focus seemed to be on Graham, and maybe it wouldn’t. But she knew that wasn’t the point, and she swallowed hard as she waited for Mom to continue, still holding the cupcake in midair.

“What happened last night,” she began, choosing her words carefully, “with Graham and the photographer. You know that’s been in the news, right?”

Ellie couldn’t look at her, but she nodded, her eyes on the cupcake, the smudged corner of the little frosted flag. She didn’t know exactly how to answer, but a flood of words had welled up inside of her anyway, and she felt exhausted by the effort of holding them back.

“I’m sorry, Mom,” she whispered, and then a lump rose in her throat, and the rest of it came out thick and choked. “It’s my fault. You told me this would happen, but I just couldn’t—I couldn’t help it. It’s not like I was seeing him this whole time. I stopped. But it was awful, not seeing him. I was completely miserable. And then it just happened again. But the thing with the photographer wasn’t really his fault. He was trying to keep them away from me, and they were horrible. Just like you said they’d be.”

She was half crying now, fueled as much by exhaustion as emotion. Mom was sitting across from her, watching the words tumble out with a strained expression, and Ellie couldn’t tell if it was anger or worry or something else entirely. She sucked in a breath of air before continuing. “It was awful,” she told her. “He had no choice. And this morning, they still hadn’t figured out that it was me who was with him, and I thought it would be okay, but now it’s obviously not, and I’m sorry. I know this is a huge mess, and I’ve probably ruined everything, but I didn’t mean to, and I’m just so, so sorry.”