“Good.” Malcolm tugs at the hem of his shirt. “Earlier, I didn’t mean that I don’t want you two to spend time together. I do. Obviously.” His short, nervous laugh implies otherwise. “But I think it might be better if you focused on Fox like we agreed.”

For an apology, it’s one of his weaker ones. He knows he was rude, but he said what he said. And he meant it.

“I know how to multitask. Let me work, damn. You’re cramping my style.”

“All right.” Malcolm grins at her, shaking his head. “I sent you the weekend agenda while you were gone.”

Joy finds the swimsuit she wants—a navy blue bikini with gold chains for straps—and lays it flat on top of her other clothes. She quickly reads the weekend agenda email and suddenly her vacation feels like work. Like they’re prepping for a new pitch or executing a new contract. He’s given her the details and it’s up to her to help him see it through, because he’s the dreamer with the big ideas and tireless work ethic and she’s his touch of realism keeping him grounded with the finer details.

Malcolm approaches romance almost identically to the way he approaches business. If an exact formula for romantic interludes existed, he’d find it, patent it, and make even more money off it. The email contains an hourly schedule of events, extensive notes, conversation topics to avoid, and a list of Summer’s favorite things—even more proof that this trip had truly been custom-made specifically for her. Camping, boating, animals—

“Hiking!” Joy glares at him. “I don’t have—”

“Aht, hold on.” He gets up and retrieves a shoebox from the closet, sitting it down next to her.

“And I didn’t bring—”

Back to the closet he goes, returning with a bag from her favorite clothing boutique. “Already washed.”

Summer hit the gift-giving nail on the love-language head. Malcolm gives everyone presents all the time. Little things to let them know he appreciates them or that they’re on his mind. He’s so generous that it’s hard not to read more into the presents than what really existed on his end.

So no one, not even Grace, was surprised when Joy fell for Malcolm all those years ago. All their friends had thought he was so into her too because he didn’t pay attention to anyone else the way he did to Joy. For her, they weren’t just little gifts from him—they were earnest proclamations of his feelings. She built it up in her heart on her own, but her friends built it up in her head first.

“He’s not into me like that.”

“Girl, yes he is!”

The more they speculated, the realer it felt.