Page 63 of Tastes Like Summer

Michael sighs. “I shouldn’t be. You’re the strongest person I know. But it’s different for you. I just need to tell my daughter that her biological father who was never in a relationship with her mother is going to go out with the hottest woman in the world—” I scoff, but he ignores it. “You had the more difficult job. You had to tell your daughters their mother, who recently got a divorce, is going to start dating another man who isn’t the father they grew up with. Who isn’t the man they always saw as your partner.”

“He wasn’t much of a partner,” I mutter. I peek through the kitchen door to make sure the girls are too distracted by their movie to hear me talking to Michael. “But you’re right. It wasn’t easy. At all.” I sigh, switching the phone from one hand to the other. “It was a pretty intense conversation, I’m not gonna lie.”

“Did you tell them it was me?” His voice is soft, tentative.

I know part of him wants to be as honest as possible with the girls after all the lying he and Jessie did to Rachel, but the other part understands that, due to my circumstances, we need to ease into this. Especially since we don’t even know where this might lead given our geographical challenges.

“No. No, I think it would be counterproductive. I think they need to sit with it a little.”

I can practically hear him nod. “Agreed. At least for now.”

“So what are we doing tomorrow?”

As if on cue, the sky outside crackles with lighting, followed by a deep rumble of thunder, rattling the pool house’s windows. The intensity of it all makes me jump and gasp, bringing a hand to my chest when sheets of rain suddenly begin to hit the windows with such force, the sound echoes throughout the entire house. The girls scream from the other room as well, calling out for me.

“It’s okay, girls,” I call back, feeling not okay at all. “It’s just a little thunder.” I’d love someone to tell that to my heart, however, since it’s five seconds away from beating out of my chest and running away to take cover.

“Oh my god,” I say in awe.

“Did you hear that, too?” he asks, his voice laced with concern.

“Yeah. I mean, it was a horrible day out today, but I didn’t expect that. It scared the girls, too.” I peek back in. “But they seem to be fine now.”

“Didn’t sound too loud from here, and Rach seems to be okay. Let me check my weather app,” he says. On the other end of the line, I hear him tap away at his screen, searching for something. “Shit,” he mutters, his voice clear now. “There’s a sudden storm coming in the early morning and it’s supposed to last until the following day.”

“In the early morning?” I gasp. “Meaning it’s going to get worse than what it is now?” I walk over to the window and stare out into the pool area, but can barely make out anything past the chairs.

“How did I miss this?”

How did we miss this? I want to ask. But I know how. The distraction that came with what we did and the nerves from telling the girls definitely threw us both off track.

“I don’t know how the hell this came out of nowhere, but… Diana, you need to put all the pool furniture inside. It says the winds are going to get pretty strong. Up to fifty miles per hour.” I try to keep calm, but I can sense the panic in his voice, and it’s not helping to keep mine under control.

“Fifty—What?”

“Hey, listen to me. You’re going to be fine. It’s—It’s just a summer storm. They happen. You’ll be okay.”

“Yeah,” I try to swallow the knot in my throat, but it doesn’t budge. “The thing is, I don’t do well with storms.” My voice sounds far away to my own ears as a montage of wild memories flash before my eyes. Currents of mud destroying everything in their path. Entire homes disappearing into the dark waters. My sister, a baby in my mother’s arms, crying. A fear so intense, it coursed through my four year-old system and marked me for the rest of my life.

“What do you mean you don’t do well with storms?”

I force myself to breathe, unable to answer the question.

“Do you know if Barbara has a generator?”

A sharp gasp escapes my lips. “A generator? You think the power could go out?”

His silence is deafening.

I squeeze my eyes shut, try to control my breathing. “I don’t know,” I whisper, frustrated once again that this is all on me. It’s always all on me. And I can do it—I know I can—because I am strong, just like Michael says. And I can overcome this fear. But, my god, I’d like for the universe to cut me some slack for a change. “I guess I have to go and make sure the house is storm ready. Fill the tubs with water and stuff. That’s what you’re supposed to do, right?” I look out once more at the pool, watching the tables and chairs outside start to shift with the rain.

Shit.

This isn’t the same, I tell myself, attempting to stay sane. It’s just a summer storm. It’ll be okay.

“Dee—” It’s the first time he calls me by a nickname, and I hate that it’s when I’m five seconds away from a panic attack.

“I need to go check on the girls and handle this before it gets worse. I’ll talk to you later.” I hang up and turn off the stove, brace myself for what’s to come. “I’m okay, Michael. I promise.”