Page 37 of The Bright Side of Brooding
Chapter Seventeen
Nick
If I say you are perfect, will you know I mean it? Will you understand your perfection means nothing like flawless and everything like flawed and messed up and scarred and so damn beautiful I can’t breathe when I think of you?
London greeted us like an angry cat, hissing and spitting and gray.
Funnily enough, it seemed to both mimic my mood and Summer’s.
The ride to the airport had been silent. We exchanged half-hearted hellos when I knocked on her door and took her suitcase—much to her chagrin, and yet she didn’t say a word—and that was it.
She chatted with Rob, Art, and Alicia here and there as we all waited for our flight, but it was as if she’d muted me. True, I didn’t speak much, but I’d commented once or twice and she gave me nothing. No acknowledgement.
I could tell I was being punished, but I didn’t quite know why. Maybe she was still angry about the argument, though when I’d gotten her text saying she did want to ride with me to the airport, I’d foolishly taken that as a good sign.
I’d have to address it at some point, and soon. Normally, I’d avoid something like this, leaving the person to stew and me to not engage with whatever was going on there. But ignoring the tension between us, and absolutely not the good kind, wasn’t an option. I wanted to enjoy having her here, and for us to have time together. There were breaks in the schedule. I’d figured out some things for us to do, if she was up for it, but I couldn’t very well go from barely speaking toHey, let’s go out for a gourmet meal, my treat.
I corralled everyone before they dispersed into rooms. “Grab a room and settle in. We’ve got registration at the convention center in two hours, and I’ve got a meal coming for us at six.”
Everyone took their bags and found a room. The rented apartment had five bedrooms, two bathrooms, a small living room and dining room, a decent kitchen for Europe, and no frills. It didn’t have the charm of a typical vacation rental, and I suspected it was used for events at the convention center rather than hosting tourists. But what it lacked in charm, it made up for in separate bedrooms, more than one bathroom, and proximity to the hall.
I hadn’t traveled much at all, and when I did, I tended to stay in hotels. But I could count on one hand the number of trips I’d taken anywhere but back home. Anytime I had block leave, I went back to see Gran—or I had. Spring break would be the first extended leave since she’d passed at Christmas.
So easily, grief slipped in, coating me in a thick, aching sadness. I cleared my throat like that might help.
My stomach dropped when Summer’s eyes met mine, but hers flicked away before I could do anything. Not sure what I would’ve done, but it was the first time she’d made eye contact since this morning. Of course my stupid gut would take it personally. At least it’d momentarily distracted me from heavier thoughts.
She padded down the hall in jeans, a shirt, a warm jacket unzipped, and sneakers. Her long blond hair disappeared into the collar. That detail had caught my attention, gripped it relentlessly, because all I wanted to do was gently pull it out, let it hang free and run my fingers through.What an idiot.
I followed in her direction since the others had gone down the opposite hallway. Two rooms sat on one side of the living room, and the other three were down the far hall. So I’d be close to Summer.
I blew out a silent, annoyed breath. I had to get this hopeless feeling gone or I’d endanger everyone this weekend. I needed focus. But I had to clear the air with her. She ducked into the first room, so I took the one at the end, the bathroom situated between us. I’d give her a few minutes before making an attempt to navigate this weird dynamic between us.
I puttered around in my room, setting out my clothes for later and tomorrow, arranging my toiletry bag so it would be ready to grab for the bathroom, placing a book, journal, and pen on the nightstand. The bed looked comfortable and clean, so in the end, that, working bathrooms, and a decent kitchen were all we needed.
After reviewing the schedule, all the plans, the documentation we needed, and anything else I could think of, I knocked on Summer’s door.
“Come in,” her voice said from behind the panel.
My heart skittered as I turned the knob and found her crouched low over her suitcase where it sat open on the floor.Good hip mobility. I slapped the thought away, rolling my eyes at the observation. Hard to take the coach hat off, especially on a weekend like this.
I stood for a beat without her acknowledgement before she glanced over, a brow raised to prompt me to speak.
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
Screeching, horrible, record-scratching silence stretched between us. For a big city, the place had almost zero ambient noise—that, or all sound had been pulled from the air between us, nothing but awkward, repulsive distance filling the space.
But I had no idea what to say. I should’ve been thinking aboutthatthis entire time, but between worried glances at her, I’d been trying to focus on the weekend. And that was why we’d come, so I couldn’t fault myself too heavily there. Except for now, standing in front of her, wishing I had words to speak to her instead of feeling a tightening in my gut that told me I wanted to close the door to my room and sit down to write this down rather than be forced to stand here and muddle through them in real time.
“I—I’m glad you’re here. That you came. Thank you.”
Her lashes fluttered. I’d surprised her.Huh.
“I am too.”
Those three words helped. A lot. Because even if they didn’t convince me she actually wanted to be here, she could’ve said anything else. But she chose that. So maybe she was trying to figure out what the hell had happened in the last week to make this so strained too.
