Page 17 of Merritt and Her Childhood Crush
I tell myself I’m not lying to my sister. I’m omitting information. Like, say, the fact that Simon and I are very much over. And that I quit my job.
“Meh,” she says, wrinkling her nose. “Youlike him.Youseem happy with him. So, Itoleratehim. He’s just such aSimon.”
I’d like to ask what that means. But the longer the conversation stalls here in Simon-land, the more chance I’ll slip up and tell my sister that my ex cheated, got the other woman pregnant, and now I’m carrying around their wedding invitation in my purse.
But you know what—I think I get what Sadie means. Inviting me to the wedding was a TOTALLYSimonthing to do. Cheating—also a verySimonthing to do.
Simon is now my new favorite negative adjective.
Simon. Makes a pretty good curse word too.
“So, are you gonna move into the big house at some point?” Sadie asks.
“Probably not. It isn’t exactly livable. And all the furniture is in storage right now. Or at least, all the furniture Lo decided to save.”
Sadie laughs. “So by that, you mean all the funkiest, weirdest stuff?”
“I haven’t had time to go look, but probably. She’s got a ‘vision’ for this place. That’s for sure. I just can’t decide if it’s fueled by brilliance or—”
“Instagram?” Sadie asks, and I laugh.
“Yeah, that.”
“Lo knows what she’s doing. It might look like madness now, but she has good instincts. Trust them—if they’re not too over-the-top, expense-wise. At the very least, it has to be better than what you would come up with.” She laughs. “Can you imagine Gran’s beach house decked out like your apartment in New York?”
The comment stings more than it should. Sadie has been to my apartment, and she’s right. All the sleek, modern lines, the leather and chrome, it would look ridiculous here.
But I was an artist once. One with an eye for color and design, one who painted impressionist sunrises over the ocean or clouds over swaying marsh grass.
I wonder what happened to all those paintings. Or that version of myself.
But I realize the answer to the second question even as I ask it. New York City Merritt ate her right up, then spit her back out and stepped on her for good measure.
“Speaking of New York,” Sadie continues. “I know it’s tough for you to be away from the office, you adorable workaholic. I’ve got to get through this next project, but then I’ll have some flexibility to come down and take over for you. Two weeks? Maybe three?”
“Sounds good,” I hedge. “We’ll firm up plans later.”
Movement catches my eye, and I look up to see Hunter cutting across the backyard of the beach house.
“You have got to be kidding,” I groan under my breath.
The man looks like he’s posing for a calendar. He’s wearing jeans torn at the knees, his toolbelt slung around his hips. His gray t-shirt stretches tightly across his back, the sleeves hugging the curve of his biceps. Which are visibly flexed as he’s currently carrying a stack of two-by-fours on his shoulder.
Yesterday, that stack of wood was me. The realization and the ridiculousness of it all makes me snort out a laugh.
“What?” Sadie asks, reminding me of the unfortunate fact that I’m still on a video call with Ms. Nosypants herself. “What’s funny?”
“Nothing. There’s just …” My eyes scan the expanse of grass between the house and the dunes for something else that could possibly have made me snort.
“Stop trying to come up with a lie,” Sadie says. “Show me.”
“Ugh. Sisters are the worst. Hold on.” I flip the camera view so Sadie can see Hunter as he stops by the back stoop and lowers the wood to the ground. I don’t know why, but watching him while knowing Sadie is also watching makes my heart race and my cheeks heat.
“Oh, Mer. You are in so much trouble. Simon was an idiot for letting you go down there.”
Simon is an idiot for so many reasons. But he let me go long before I got to Oakley.
I promise myself I’ll tell Sadie.Soon.
