Page 56 of The Summer I First Saw You
I can’t let her go. But how the hell am I going to survive having her walk past me in nothing but a towel now? How am I going to watch her dance around my kitchen in a bikini andkeep my hands to myself after what happened? I can’t do that either.
I was thinking about how tight it would be, how you’d barely fit.
Goddammit. I can’t go home to her, and I can’tnotgo home to her, so what the fuck do I do?
I pick up my phone to reply to Daisy, but I’ve got no idea what to say. I wish there was an emoji that saidI’ll never lay a finger on you again, even if I’m dying to. Also, please don’t leave.
Perhaps it’s for the best that no such emoji exists, because I’d be selfish enough to send it if it did. I barely recognize myself around her anymore, but I’m certainly not the man I thought I was. Every high-minded principle goes right out the window when I think of her the way she was in her room, coming with my name on her lips. Looking up at me from under her lashes while my cum dripped down her stomach.
A tap on the door grabs my attention as Baker walks in for the second day in a row. He’s furious that I didn’t come in Monday and probably furious that I went away for the weekend, but since he can’ttechnicallybegrudge me a sick day or a fucking weekend, he’s simply going to unload on me in a more general fashion, just like he did yesterday.
“I need you to go to this client happy hour in San Jose,” he announces. I’m too in my own head about Daisy to even form a response as to why I can’t.
I know I need to get home and talk to her. I know I need to apologize and see if we can fix things. I just can’t come up with a good way to do it when all I really want to do is peel her clothes off and pick up right where we left off Monday night.
My phone vibrates and I glance down at it…Daisy is texting.
Baker raises a brow, annoyed that my gaze flickered even briefly toward the phone while he’s delivering this vital lecture. “Do you need to get that?” he asks, his voice sour with sarcasm.
Yeah, take a seat. I’ll just be a minute.I barely hold the words in, but I’ve spent my entire life being the responsible son, theresponsible friend, the responsible spouse, and reining myself in is second nature.
Aside from when Daisy’s involved, anyway.
“It can wait,” I reply, flatly. “I assume you were nearly done.”
This pisses him off, of course, and he proceeds to reiterate the same goddamn points he’s already made: that he went to bat to get me this position, that he never had to worry about me in the past, that he knows divorce is hard—he’s done it twice—but we didn’t even have kids so I really need to pull my shit together if I plan to remain at the firm. I always thought Baker and I got along great, but the second I started actually enjoying my life, he decided it was a problem. I’m billing as much as anyone here, but he wants the return of Harrison the Robot, who set a standard no one else came close to. And why would I do that? Whyespeciallywould I do that for him when he’s been such a fucking prick the past month?
Fuck it. I’m not going to fucking San Jose. I’m going to surf with Daisy and talk this out and—
“You’re on thin ice, Reid,” he says, leaving. “Pull it together or find a new job.”
I sink back in my chair. There’s a reason he’s usedthatas his parting salvo—because there’s not another reasonably sized firm in Elliott Springs, and I wouldn’t have clients to bring with me even if there were. I’d be starting from scratch, and every case I took would be the worst of what I deal with now. Disputes between neighbors or defending a guy on his fourth DUI.
I spend the afternoon and evening driving to fucking San Jose and charming Baker’s clients. It’s after nine by the time I head home, working on my apology to Daisy the entire way.I shouldn’t have come into your room. I shouldn’t have asked you to take off your pants.
No, not that. I can’t reference specifics. Because if I do andshe gives me that look, as if she’s remembering…I’m probably going to fuck up again.
“I shouldn’t have come into your room,”I’ll say. “It was a mistake and I really hope we can just go back to the way things were. I like having you here, but if it’s uncomfortable, I can help you find somewhere else.”
Better, but still insufficient somehow. Mostly because I don’t want to find her somewhere else to stay. I want her with me for as long as I can keep her.
Her car is on the street when I arrive at home, but the lights are off inside. The house is entirely silent as I climb the stairs and my gut is in knots. I don’t want to discover that she’s sick. I also don’t want to enter her room and fuck up everything I’ve resolved to do if she’snotsick.
Her door is open, the room is dark, and the bed is still made.
A chill runs down my spine. She went surfing. She went surfing alone because I was too goddamn busy jumping through Baker’s hoops. I take the stairs two at a time to the garage, my heart hammering, and sink to the stairs in relief when I see her surfboard is leaning against the wall.
Except…she’s still missing. As much as I didn’t want to have the conversation we still need to have, this is worse. And I’m annoyed, even if I shouldn’t be.
Where the fuck are you?
Daisy
The way you ask a question leaves much to be desired. The way you answer one does too.
My teeth grind as I type my next text.
I apologize. Where the fuck are you?
