Page 96 of Villainous Summer

“Dennis. You don’t want to hear about my relationship issues.”

Mr. Haruki studied me over his wire-rimmed spectacles. “She did a number on you, didn’t she?”

This was an inappropriate conversation to be having with my boss, but he was here, and I felt so raw.

Burying my head in my hands, I nodded. “I told her I loved her, but she doesn’t feel the same.”

On the blue upholstered chair across from me, he leaned back, his right leg bent and his ankle resting on his left knee. “I had a feeling this would happen. That’s why I told you to be careful with her at the party.”

Dropping my hands, I stared at him with a furrowed brow. “I thought you were to be careful not to hurt her. Like, if I screwed up the relationship, I’d be in trouble.”

Mr. Haruki laughed. “Oh, that’s rich. No, no. Summer has always been the toughest girl. Devin told me once that a boy in their English class called her homely. Summer found the boy, stole his backpack, and threw it into the creek before pushing the boy in after it. He never bothered Devin again. They were ten. I love Summer like another granddaughter, I do. But if she thinks someone is doing the wrong thing, she doesn’t think, just acts. It never bothered me because she was so fiercely protective of Devin. And, to be frank, Dev has struggled with assertiveness over the years. But to be on Summer’s bad side”—Mr. Haruki whistled, shaking his head—“I wouldn’t want to be that guy.”

I thought back to the day I met her. She was frantic, her clothes soaked with rain, and a wild look on her face. Then I remembered her words the night I asked her to come to the party. Something about a cheating ex. The way she stood up to the man at the bar for Savvy. But also her defensiveness. The defiance in her eyes when she told me something she didn’t think I wanted to hear. And the surprise in her eyes when I would choose her. When I’d be honest.

She was hurt and wasn’t the type to believe words. So, why did I think a simple I love you would make her fall into my arms with gratitude?

“A woman like that, it won’t be easy, but to know her in a way no one else could? If you’re the right guy, you’ll find a way.”

After he left me alone in my office, I sulked in his words.

I wanted to be that man. I could be. If only I could find a way to show her.

Summer

It had been twenty-seven hours since Van told me he was falling for me, and I was no closer to knowing what to do.

This whole thing had been built on a lie. How could he think their relationship could be any different with a few declarations? Never had I wanted to throw away all sense and dive into love with him. But they were only words. Hollow. It didn’t matter how much I wanted him. That I felt the same way. What we had was built upon deception. How could I ever trust my choices again?

Work was unbearably slow. Ordinarily, summer is the busiest season, and I would rush around, placating guests, ordering more stock, and calling employees to fill in. But a late summer storm had rolled into the bay, and the rain and low temperatures had driven away our impromptu guests.

Front Street was dead, with only the stray person passing our windows with a coffee in hand, rushing back to their car.

The weather reflected my mood all too well. I worked in a lull, catching up on the most monotonous paperwork I kept putting to the side. Between the inventory costs for the breakfast buffet and figuring out switching mouthwash brands, I checked my phone for the millionth time.

True to his word, Van hadn’t reached out. He was giving me time.

I missed him. I asked for space, asked for time, and only one day later was I cursing myself for both.

A few days before, I would have loved hearing those words from Van.

But seeing Cory had triggered something in me. As much as I hated his words, they still rang in my ears.

Van was so good, so utterly perfect. Telling myself that it was better not to be hurt by him was a punishment of my own making. Months before, I allowed Cory to make me look foolish, and once again, I let him mess with me.

As much as I hated the best revenge is a life well lived phrase—wouldn’t that be exactly what he deserved? And, more importantly, wasn’t that what I deserved? What Van deserved.

Sinking into my chair, I grabbed my phone and scrolled through my contacts.

I had a few with whom I felt comfortable talking about my conundrum and even fewer who I knew could give me advice.

I couldn’t reach out to Devin, who seemed to get bored with the men she dated before the check arrived. And as positive and helpful as Autumn could be, her dating experience couldn’t fill a postcard.

Wren picked up on the second ring. Wren shushed a shrill bark of what I could only assume was the small wiry-haired dog she had brought to the brewery.

After pleasantries, Wren paused in the middle of her story about her boyfriend, Adrian, who had been trying—but failing—to teach her how to fish in the river behind their home.

“What is going on with you? You didn’t laugh once at my story of falling into the river.” She lowered her voice. “Something I do more often than I’d like to admit.”

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