Page 89 of The Summer I First Saw You
“That’s an uncharacteristically rude way to sayhello,” she replies.
“You chose an uncharacteristically rude way to end our marriage,” I counter. “What do you want? I’m busy.”
“I just wanted to discuss some things, but if this is a bad time—”
My eyes fall shut. Fuck. I don’t want to schedule a call for later. I don’t want to talk. I just want her to go away. “Can’t you just email me?”
“I take it things fell apart with the girlfriend.”
Christ. It never occurred to me that she might still be in contact with my mother or my brothers, but anything’s possible. I could see Oliver alluding to it just to needle her a little. “What are you talking about?”
She clicks her tongue. “Lucie implied you were seeingsomeone, and I could tell by how preoccupied you were the last time we spoke. And I get it. I’m sure it seemed amazing and all-consuming until the infatuation wore off and you realized you were stuck with a real person, one who wasn’t going to be the living embodiment of every dream and is as flawed as anyone else.”
No, the infatuation hadn’t worn off. And with Daisy, I saw the flaws first. I sought them out eagerly, because I was doing my level best not to acknowledge what I actually wanted from my friend’s kid—or give in to it.
But this is nothing I care to discuss with Audrey.
“Like I said,” I reply, “I’ve got a lot going on right now. I assume you had a reason for calling aside from discussing my romantic life?”
“I’m coming to California,” she says. “I was hoping we could get dinner.”
The old, responsible version of me would probably agree. It would be the polite thing to do. I don’t hate Audrey and I could even see myself being friendly with her one day in the distant way I’m friendly with former employees or classmates. But I’m not in the mood to be polite.
“I bear you no ill will, Audrey, but I don’t see any reason for us to get dinner together. Take whatever you want from the storage unit. I’ll text you the—”
“Harrison, it’s not working out here with Michael,” she says abruptly. “I’m thinking about coming back.”
I’m not sure what the hell is going on right now, but I’d prefer she stay in London. I don’t want to make strained small talk with her every time we’re both in the courthouse. I don’t need years of her ingratiating herself with my friends or texting to ask about the whereabouts of some missing household item.
“Why? You hated California—at least this part of it. You hate the weather. You don’t like the beach. You hate the attitude. You spent five years bitching about this state.”
“I’d be willing to come back for you,” she says. “You wanted kids and I wasn’t ready, but I am now. I think maybe we just needed some time apart to see what we had.”
I’m silent. Shocked. Time away from her didn’t make me see anything but how much we lacked, but maybe that’s because I had Daisy here. Every morning I woke with Daisy in my home, I was a little more alive, a little happier. I’d never been more at peace than I was when she’d fall asleep in my arms. It’s something I never had with my wife. Not once. But I didn’t know I was missing it.
“Audrey, we were never right for each other,” I finally reply. “That hasn’t changed.”
“Harrison, you’re thirty-two. You wanted to be a young dad. Sometimes you need to settle a little in one area to get the things you want in another.”
Six months ago, I’d have agreed with her. Now I know there’s not a fucking thing in the world I wouldn’t give up for the right woman—one who turns everything into innuendo, who opens the doors wide and sings at the top of her lungs as she makes lunch, who surfs, who smiles with her heart in her eyes every time I walk in the door.
That person is Daisy. It will never be anyone else.
I end the call with Audrey and sit on my deck, staring blankly at the view while I think.
After I found out about Christian, I was so busy being consumed by the parallels that I didn’t—or wouldn’t allow myself—to consider the differences. But I want her for exactly who she is, while Christian wanted her to be someone else. And Christian was cheating on her the entire time and giving her nothing, while I’d give her my entire fucking world if she asked for it.
And doesn’t that mean something? Doesn’t it make me different from him and every other guy who tried to possess her?
Maybe I’m reconsidering it all now because I’m so fucking desperate to have her back, but I return, again and again, to a thought I wouldn’t even allow myself last week:What if I waited?
What if I give her all the time she needs to finish college and live out her wild youth, and I just wait, hoping I’m still what she wants when it’s through?
On Saturday,I drive to Ocean Hills Country Club for Caleb and Lucie’s wedding. I walk toward the venue, looking only for one face. It’s the last time I’ll see her for months, if not longer…a thought that makes me sick to my stomach, so I try not to think it.
I’ve got no idea what I’ll say to her. It will probably be the wrong thing. I just need to hold it together. I need to get through the day without letting her know how fucked up I am over her, without letting her know I’m going to spend the next couple of years pining for her and praying she doesn’t wind up with another guy.
I wave to Caleb, who’s being photographed with Lucie’s twins. I spy Liam, Beck, Emmy, and Bridget sitting at a table inside the tent, sipping champagne while a wedding coordinator fusses with the flowers at the altar and the string quartet begins tuning their instruments.
