Page 2 of The Summer I First Saw You
Liam shrugs. “Some girl in LA. None of us have met her, but it seems pretty serious. I don’t know anything more.”
Even if Harrison will never see me as anything but Liam’s bratty niece, those words—it seems pretty serious—make my stomach drop hard.
“He moved on awfully fast,” my mom says. “You’re sure he didn’t start dating this girlbeforehis marriage fell apart?”
Liam rolls his eyes. “Come on, Bridget. Harrison wouldn’t do that.”
I sigh. Jackie sighs. Even my mother sighs. That’s why Harrison’s the ultimate man: he saves all that feral, filthy, testosterone-laced perfection for one girl.
A girl who will never be me.
2
DAISY
One day, you’re simply lusting after a guy. Six days later, you’re breaking into his home.
To be fair, though, I’ve been lusting after Harrison for most of my life and waitingdecadesto break into your crush’s house is slightly more reasonable. Also, I’m not actually breaking in. I’m just sleeping on his deck while he’s out of town, and though this is probably still against the law, I don’t think Harrison would mind.
Okay, he might mind, because he’d be horrified by the idea of having such limited resources, horrified by the idea of littleLazy Daisygoing through life without a trust fund to cushion her through life’s semi-homeless moments. I guarantee that his ex has never once been forced to sleep outdoors because she had nowhere else to go, but then again, Audrey does not have a mother like mine, one who claims she’s going through a divorce and begs you to return for the summer only to announce five days after you’ve arrived that the divorce isn’t happening and your odious stepfather is on his way home.
What she really said was “Scott’s coming over to talk, and we’ll seewhat happens”but I know exactly whatwe’ll seemeans,because we’ve done this dance before. She might as well have put that wedding ring back on her finger.We’ll seemeans Scott’s moving in, and if my mother’s managed to save a penny over the past month, he’ll have convinced her to blow it on some stupid shit onlyhebenefits from—a golf membership somewhere, a bacon-of-the-month club, an investment opportunity he claims will “pay off big.”
We’ll seemeans I gave up everything in DC for nothing and have nowhere to stay until August—a thought that makes my breath come fast and my eyes sting.
A thought that also led to the current break-in plan. It takes about thirty minutes to reach Santa Cruz from Elliott Springs, and another ten minutes to find the eye-popping vacation home Harrison and Audrey bought, which sits high atop a cliff, only separated from the ocean by a quiet two-lane road.
I still don’t get why they bought it—Audrey was the sort who’d only enjoy a beach if it came with a butler and cocktails—but I guarantee there’s a nice chaise on their deck just made for sleeping, probably with some artfully arranged Hermès blanket that’s never been used. And in the morning, when I’m not exhausted and distressed and my world isn’t caving in, the day will begin anew. I’ll do my morning exercises, borrow his outdoor shower, and go see if Liam’s “colleague”-who’s-clearly-his-girlfriend is gone so I can crash there. No, that won’t fix the utter trainwreck that is my life, but at least it’ll occur without me breaking into…er…borrowingsomeone’s home.
It’s late and silent. This makes me feel more criminal than I already did as I climb up the cement steps with one of my two suitcases, sagging with exhaustion, ready to sink into a soft chair.
Except there is no soft chair.
The only seating is modern and uncomfortable, without a single pillow or blanket. And it’s ice cold. Sure, there’s glass surrounding the deck, but the ocean breeze is still nippytonight. I’ll freeze to death before anyone even gets the chance to arrest me.
“Fuck, Daisy,” I say with a sigh as I drop into a chair and press my head into my hands. “What now?” I’m too damn tired to drive back to Liam’s even if I waswillingto ruin his fun, which means I’m sleeping in my car. I hate how much that sounds like something my father would do, but there’s no choice unless—
Unless…
I turn to the sliding glass door. I’m certain Harrison would have locked it. He’s not the type to make a careless mistake of any kind. But maybe, just maybe—made reckless by lust for the LA girlfriend—he didn’t.
I’d prefer henothave a girlfriend who makes him reckless with lust, but an unlocked door would be a decent consolation prize.
I rise and place my palm around the handle.
When it slides, I stare in shock, wanting to weep at my good fortune, but I was already about to weep at mybadfortune, so the desire is both happy and sad at once.
I grab my bag and hit a light switch as I step inside. The house has an open floor plan—a large living area with a kitchen/dining area at its far end. The décor, however, is as spare and cold as Audrey: hard, uncomfortable furniture that only looks good to people who don’t have to use it. Cement floors.
If this room was a person, it would say things like “I can’t imagine flying in coach” or “I don’t understand people who eat bread.” I’ve heard Audrey say both.
Before I can think of more ways I hate this room, and also hate Harrison’s ex-wife, there’s aclinksomewhere ahead of me—a noise that is distinctly, unnervingly human, and probably attached to the shadow now moving my way with heavy steps.
In true Daisy fashion, I remain frozen solid.
I’m not a dumb girl. Yes, I guess I’m dumb enough to enter a house that’s unlocked without questioningwhyit’s unlocked, but not so dumb that I don’t know I should run for my life.
I justcan’t. My limbs are impossibly heavy. I’m not even sure I can breathe.
