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“I think I’m the first since Ben, and that can’t have been easy for her. And now, I’m probably making her doubt everything. I thought I was doing the right thing by keeping it between us, I really did. See, Summer listens to Lyndsey, and if Lyndsey warns her off me or something, then that really is game over for us. And then there’s the Grace thing—she’s been through enough without finding out that her uncle and her stepmom are together, and I couldn’t bear it if she started to hate me for that.
“I suppose I just wanted to… give everything time to breathe before we air it out to the world. Is that wrong of me? I keep going over it in my head, and now there is no right or wrong, just a big blurry heap of confusion. I don’t think Iamin the wrong, per se, but I don’t think I’m in the right, either. Basically, whatever we do, there’s a chance of someone getting hurt, and I have to decide whose feelings I’d rather dent… and that’s, frankly, a Sophie’s choice I can’t make at the moment. Everything has gotten so serious, so quickly, and I’m… just frozen in the middle.”
I end the recording, knowing I’m just rambling at this point. Putting the phone away, I stare out at the shadowy water and listen to the cicadas, stashing every sight and sound into my memory in case the mistake I made today costs me. With all my heart I hope not, but if Summer’s walls go up again, I don’t think I have a chance in hell of breaking through them a second time.
27
SUMMER
Ikiss him on the front porch where I found him, cursing at broken glass. A few shards that I missed still glint in the gauzy morning sunlight, and it seems absurd to be thinking about pieces of a champagne bottle when Rowan is about to leave. Perhaps, one of those fragments will be the one to burst this balloon of hope that every breath of his has inflated in my chest over the last few days. Maybe, that’s why I can’t stop staring at the jagged, winking edges.
He pulls back, one hand cradling my neck. “Are we okay?”
“Hmm?” I look up into his wild honey eyes, framed by the glasses that I adore him in. He wears contacts most of the time but when he wears his glasses, I love it.
“I’m hoping that doesn’t answer my question.” His crooked smile is stiff. Anxious. “I asked if we’re okay.”
I nod, but my own smile doesn’t fit right either. “I think we’re just fine. Don’t you?” My tone is strange—too bright and too cold, all at once. I can’t say I’ve ever heard myself sound like that before, but if I repeat myself, I’m worried I’ll only sound weirder.
“I’d like to think we’re more than fine,” he replies, his eyelids flickering as if someone pinched him. “Summer, if you’re angry with me or you’re upset or you’re confused, then please just tell me. I wish I could say I’m a mind reader—that would make so many things much easier—but I’m not, and I don’t want to leave this place feeling like there’s a… bump in the road.”
I hesitate, stuck at a crossroads. Down one path, I get to be the cool, secure, happy-go-lucky gal who can make sure that Rowan leaves here with a smile on his face. Down the other path, he gets the truth of what he’s getting entangled in.
After thinking on it all through last night while Rowan slept, sneaking out onto the back porch to plead for clarity from the tapestry of stars and silvery moonlight, I clawed my way to the root of how I behaved at the bookshop yesterday. My heart is still raw from all the digging, and the painful throb is my reminder that a second chance doesn’t mean rewinding the clock and beginning again with a clean slate. The chalkboard of me is the kind that has stood in the corner of a classroom for decades, dusted with layer upon layer that will never wipe itself spotless. And letting go is not the same as starting over.
He said all the right things. He was conscientious, he was logical and he was right about not telling everyone. I wasn’t ready to face another challenge, another mess with the family of the man who still has a hold on my heart.That was my conclusion when dawn came, and though it doesn’t excuse me doubting his intentions, it does explain them. But how do I tell him that, though I’m lighter now, I still come with a whole conveyor belt of baggage? That would be enough to make any man run, and I wouldn’t chase him. I wouldn’t be able to, with the weight of all that dragging on my heels.
“I’m not angry with you, I’m not upset with you, but I am… conflicted,” I tell him, at last, conscious of how safe I feel in his arms. “Ben’s family put me through hell and high water when Ben and I fell for one another. Honestly, it’s a miracle that I’m friends with Cybil today, because if you’d seen us back then, you’d have put bets on who would kill the other first.”
Rowan nods slowly. “You’ve mentioned some of that, but what does that have to do with us?”
“I think I’ve only just realized what I’ve done,” I reply, wincing at the pain of what I’m about to say next. “I’ve lit a bomb underyourfamily—your sister, your niece, your brother-in-law—and I feel like I’m watching the timer tick down, not knowing if it’s going to detonate or if it’s going to stop at four seconds and everything is going to be okay.”
Elevens appear between Rowan’s eyebrows as they furrow. “They’re your family, too. They love you. They love us both, and, ultimately, they’re not going to care that we’re together.” He huffs out a breath, running a hand through his hair. “It’s just… delicate.”
“I know. I know that, now.” I force a shaky smile. “But so am I, and the slightest crack could break me. I can’t afford to lose Lyndsey and Grace, so I have to know that this is… that this is it, or as close to ‘it’ as can be, but that’s not something that anyone can promise. I keep telling myself that it’s stupid to waste time, dream too far ahead, or worry about the future, because no one knows for certain if they’ll get to wake up tomorrow, so carpe every diem, but… this is already messy. If we fall apart, we splinter, and when sides get drawn, Lyndsey and Grace won’t be on mine. I don’t think I can handle that.”
Rowan brings his other hand to my cheek, like he’s about to shake some sense into me. “Summer, you’re talking about a break-up that might never happen. I sure hope it doesn’t.”
“I know that, too, but there are so many facets of who I am that are going to push you away. I obsess, I get paranoid, I call too much, I text too often, I’ll have a nervous breakdown if you say you’re leaving work and you’re twenty minutes late and you haven’t called to say you’re stuck in traffic. If you have to go away for business, I won’t sleep, worrying if you’re alive or dead.” My breath hitches, feeling stupid as tears sting my eyes.
I promised I wasn’t going to do this anymore. I really believed that letting go of that carving meant I got to be a different version of me, free of everything that came before, but all I did was drop the heaviest bag.
“And I need you to decide—not right now—if you’re prepared to take that on. I need to know, without a doubt, that this is something that could be everything,” I continue. “The truth is, we don’t know each other very well, and the Summers—the bad and the good—that you’ve been around so far are only part of the bigger picture. So, with Lyndsey and Grace in mind, I’m giving you an out before we’re too mired in all of this to get out unscathed.”
Rowan cricks his neck and drops his chin down to his chest, resting his forehead against mine. “Are you sure this isn’t because of yesterday? I could see how uneasy it made you.”
“You were right to stop me from shouting it from the rooftops,” I tell him softly, smoothing my palms up his chest. “So, this is because of yesterday, but not in the way you think. It gave me a lot to consider, that’s all, and I’m putting the final decision in your hands. Take your time, think long and hard, and when you’ve made up your mind, I’ll be waiting, no matter what your answer is. I’ll be right here.”
His head snaps up. “You’re not coming back to New Orleans? Summer, come on.”
“I am, but not yet. I’m going to stay for another week or two to get everything sorted for Mae, and then I’m coming back. So, take all that time if you need it,” I explain, letting my fingertips trace the ridge of his collarbone. “Either way, I need you to be sure. I need you to consider everything, because I’m still messy and I likely always will be.”
“This is insane, Summer.”
“Maybe, and if you were anyone else, I’d be more than willing to just see where things go, but you’re not just anyone else,” I reply, fully aware that I sound like a madwoman. “I can’t keep repeating myself or we’ll be spinning around in circles all day. Just… go back to New Orleans and think about me, think about us, without any rose-colored glasses on. Ask Lyndsey about me, ask Georgie about me, ask them to tell you everything they know, and see if I’m still someone you can see yourself sharing your heart with.”
Rowan looks at me like I’m a stranger, though his hands don’t move, still holding my face. I watch his Adam’s apple bob and hear a strained swallow, wondering what’s racing through his mind. In a way, I guess I’m trying to fulfill my own prophesy, putting the most neurotic version of myself in front of him, asking him if he could love that kind of woman. Even I would run a mile, but that’s the point, isn’t it—to see if he can stand me at my worst?
