Page 73 of The Summer I First Saw You
“You’re right.” Her voice is strained as if she’s about to cry. “And I’m sorry. But I never knew, when you were little, how things were going to turn out. Youarea bit like your dad with the surfing and wanting to be outside all the time and the way you haven’t always cared about consequences. Which doesn’t mean you’ll turn out like him, but Scott spun things in a way that…Iwantedhim to be wrong, Daisy, but I’d have felt like a bad mother if I assumed he was wrong and didn’t get you the help you needed.”
I’d probably have done the same thing in her position, but I’m still not quite ready to let her off the hook. “So you didn’t believe me when I said it, but you believedLiam?”
“No,” she says. “No. It’s just that…I’ve seen enough proof of my own that you were right about him cheating, and last night he proved he doesn’t have your best interests at heart. It’s one thing for him to express some concerns to me. I’m your mother. To twist the truth to a bunch of people he barely knows…that’s sick. So it’s done. That man is never returning to my home. Ever.”
I’ve wanted this moment for years. Except I don’t want her to get rid of Scott for me. I want her to get rid of him for herself—because he can’t stop cheating and because he’s unreliable and narcissistic. Selfishly, I don’t want her to get rid of him atallright now because I know what she’s going to ask next.
“I’m going to Harrison’s office this afternoon to have him draw up the separation agreement,” she says. “Will you come back home?”
Yes, that’s what I knew she would ask. And under the circumstances, I don’t see how I can tell herno.
These past weeks here have been the happiest of my life—weeks that made up for all the dark months that preceded them. I love this house; I love surfing. Mostly I love Harrison, and the experience of being with someone who likes me exactly the way I am. I won the lottery here, and now I’m being asked to hand the prize back. Will he even want to keep seeing me if I’m not conveniently waiting in his home? My mother lives a half hour away…it’s not as if I’d just happen to be around, and there’d be no point in continuing to work at Wharf Seafood when I’d barely earn enough to pay for gas and parking.
“Sure, Mom,” I reply quietly, and it feels like a sort of death.
After today, there will be no more mornings on the deck, no more early morning and late afternoon sessions at the Horseshoe.
And there will possibly be no more Harrison.
It’s that last one I’m struggling to face.
By the timeHarrison gets in that night, my mom has set Scott’s stuff in her front yard, and the separation agreement has been filed. It’s really happening, and there’s probably no going back.
Harrison’s gaze brushes over me as if checking for injury.
“Did you talk to your mom?” he asks, undoing his top button.
I want to yank him to me by his tie and tell him to shut up. I want to say, “Don’t ruin this.”
“Yeah.” I cross the room to him. “She said she was meeting with you?”
He nods, and for the first time I notice the circles under his eyes. “I assume she wants you to come home?”
I swallow. “Yeah. I told her I’d be there tomorrow.”
And then I wait. I want him to ask me to stay. The arguments he could make would be selfish ones. I’ve been making them all afternoon myself:I’ve given up enough on behalf of these breakups with Scott; she’s a grown woman, and she’ll be just fine.
I think, even if he said all of this, I’d wind up leaving—my mom has given up too much on my behalf to not be there when she needs me—but I wish he’d try anyway.
Instead, he lifts me onto the counter, spreading my knees and stepping between them, and then he kisses me as if I’m something he’s about to say goodbye to forever.
He’sefficient and no-nonsense in the morning as he gets ready for work. The coffee is made. The protein shake deposited in the side of his bag. But when it’s finally time for him to leave, he tosses the keys from one hand to the other, stalling.
“I’ll see you soon, yeah?” he asks. There’s a flicker of worry in his dark eyes. “Your mom probably wants you around this weekend, but if you can get free, let me know.”
I blink back tears. We never addressed it last night, and I’m not sure we’re really addressing it now either. But at least he wants to see me again—I wasn’t entirely sure if he would.
“Don’t drink all the bourbon before I get back down here.”
He steps close. “I’ll be fine. Just take care of your mom. And yourself.”
I force my mouth not to tremble. I want him to be happy in my absence, but he mourned for Audrey for months—it wouldbe nice to think he’s going to mourn for me, even if it was only for a few days.
His lips brush mine and then hold there. “Be good, Daisy,” he says, swallowing as he walks away.
There’s something about it that feels very final.
After he’s gone, I pack everything but my wetsuit—I’m leaving it here in the hopes that I’ll get another chance to use it—and then I go to the deck, where I say a silent goodbye to the house, to the water, to all these amazing sun-soaked moments I’ve spent here with him. It went too fast. And I’ll be back here again, but it won’t be the same. It won’t feel as if it’s mine, and maybe Harrison won’t feel as if he’s mine either. Which is probably for the best since he never actually was.
