Page 45 of Be My Summer

“Definitely keeping her.”

As the words left my mouth, Summer’s name appeared on my screen. The vibration had become my favorite sound. Like clockwork, Summer was granted my weekends. This one was no different.

“If that’s it, I’m going to head out of here. I have a few stops to make.”

“That’s about it, son. Thank you. I’ll see you Thursday.”

“Thursday it is.”

I leaned in and planted a kiss on my mother’s forehead. Her hands surrounded me, pulling me closer to her.

“I love you, son.”

“I love you, too, lady.”

“Christian. Joshua.”

“Holla at you later,” Christian promised.

“Alright,” Joshua responded, partially paying attention.

I didn’t waste another second bumping my gums. I exited my parent’s home and made my way to my truck. As I settled in, I tapped the missed call from My Summer. My cell connected to my speaker as she answered.

“Hi.”

“I miss you,” I admitted, unable to keep it to myself.

“Then come get me.”

“I’m already en route, baby. Be ready when I get there.”

“I’ve been ready since I opened my eyes this morning,” she sniggered. “See you in a bit.”

The call ended before any more words could be exchanged. There was honestly no need. All that needed to be said had been said. I was on my way and Summer would be ready.

I checked my passenger seat a final time as I took the ramp to the highway. The fresh tulips were still strapped to the seat in the new vase. The water was low to be sure it didn’t spill while in transit. Though I’d left the windows cracked, I was afraid they’d wither before my return to the truck. Thankfully, they were still in perfect condition.

I stepped up onto the porch and pressed the doorbell. Within seconds, the door swung open. It wasn’t Summer’s face I encountered. It was her father’s. Their resemblance was uncanny. She looks so much like him without looking exactly like him.

“Good evening. Here to steal my girl again?”

“I am.” I chuckled.

“That’s fine with me, but come on in. I’m going to feed you two before you jet off.”

As much as I wanted to tell him I’d made dinner plans with Summer, my heart wouldn’t allow it. If he’d spent time over the stove, then I was eating whatever he put together. We could go to dinner another day.

“Smells good,” I admitted, stepping into their home.

It was just as I’d imagined. Greenery. Drapery. Vintage and colorful. Summer had put the entire place together. It was clear. Her signature was scribbled on each gold frame that made a unique collage on the wall and each piece of furniture.

“Smoked turkey wings. Cabbage. Mac and cheese. I just pulled the cornbread out of the oven.”

My stomach growled at the sound of what was waiting for me. I explored the open floorplan in the meantime. Though the home was an older build, it had so many modern upgrades. Yet, the charm old homes possessed was still very evident.

They’d torn down walls to open the space. It felt airy and liberating, seeing everything and almost nothing at once depending on where your eyes landed. Cushions were draped in fabric. Wooden floors were partially covered in rugs of all kinds. Unique end tables graced the sides of the couches. A television was disguised as a piece of art, surrounded by a gold frame.

Definitely Summer.