Page 74 of The Monster I Loved
“I hope not,” I said honestly. It wasn’t much, but I didn’t have all the answers. Probably not even any of them. I’d never imagined Summer and I would be back here.
For a while, neither of us spoke, which was becoming a habit of ours. Water filled Summer’s eyes. It pained me to see herhurting. It was like we’d traveled back to ten years ago, and all the feelings I had for her came rushing at me again.
“I’m going to give it my best shot so that we don’t have that kind of outcome,” I said, knowing I sounded overly formal but wanting to reassure her.
A smile played across Summer’s lips. “I promise to do the same. Give it my best shot, I mean.”
There you have it: two people about to plan a whole complicated future, without much enthusiasm, while bringing a whole baby in the mix.I chuckled, and Summer squinted at me.
Before she could ask, I shared, “Doesn’t sound very romantic, does it?”
“Ha! Romance? The best we can hope for is amicable behavior.”
A sharp sensation grew in my chest.She’s telling the truth. We were getting together out of love for our child. Not each other. Even the sex that resulted in our baby was done in a confused haze.
The arrangement was just a practicality. No romance.
“We’ve made progress. You’ve gone from planning to shoot me dead to agreeing to marry me,” I nudged lightly. I didn’t know why I sounded so breathy, sonervous. Like I was afraid to confront the reality of our relationship we’d long known was true.
Summer rolled her eyes. “I wasn’t thinking straight...plus, it was that night we made the baby. So, it kind of worked out.”
A sudden rush of humor gripped me as I took in the ridiculousness of it all. “I can picture exactly how to explain it to our dear child now. ‘Others were made in love, but not you. Your mother snuck into my house to kill me, I charmed her into my bed, and nine months later you were born.’”
Shock painted her face red for a few seconds, and then we both laughed. Who would’ve thought we were past those events and could laugh about them already?
Our server appeared with our appetizers: bruschetta, marinated olives, prosciutto with melon, and tiny arancini. We relaxed and ate. It almost felt like we were truly enjoying ourselves.
While we lingered over the meal and music, I noticed Summer’s expression change. There was a sparkle in her eyes and a flush to her cheeks. She was looking at something behind me. Turning my head, I found a welcoming scene: a man on his knee with a ring in his hand. He was proposing marriage, just like I had years ago in this very place.
“I wish them better luck than we had,” Summer said, causing a pit to form in my gut. Would the darkness from our past follow us forever?
Since learning of our baby, I’d desperately tried focusing my resentment on Summer’s dad and separating her from that.The woman who I loved, I’d painted her as a villain because of her betrayal, but I’d never tried to see it from her side.
Returning my attention to her, I took a sip of my drink. “We got something going for us. I think we’ll be just fine.”
“What’s this magical thing we have?” Summer asked, clearly needing me to fill in the gaps.
“Love.”
The word hovered in the air like an avalanche about to rush down a mountain. You’d think I just uttered ‘murder.’
The heart doesn’t lie. I wanted to hold a grudge against her for loyalty’s sake, but she was the only woman who’d drawn me in after all these years. What was the point of pretending she didn’t affect me in a way no other woman could?
The tension was so thick you could cut it with a knife. Summer was visibly flustered, but my mind felt clearer than it’dever been. I’d promised to love this woman for the rest of my life, and no amount of anger could undo it. My heart and brain had been at odds for years and, finally, my heart won.
“We used to love each other,” Summer started, then stopped. “I don’t know what to call what we have anymore.”
Her voice wobbled, like she wasn’t quite sure the words on her tongue matched what swirled in her head.I know that feeling. We’d both forced ourselves to carry certain roles. I, the bitter enemy, for killing her father. She, the traitorous fiancée, for defending her dad.
We might’ve had every reason to carry on hating each other, but there was no ignoring the aching in my chest. The desire flickering in her eyes. She could fight it all she wanted to. I was done and not afraid to call it as I saw it. “Listen, for ten years I thought of you every day. Only, deep down, I was probably just getting angry at the thought that you wouldn’t have been thinking about me.”
Summer sighed. “I never said I didn’t think of you. Not one day went by that you weren’t on my mind.”
“Well, you could’ve answered my letter.”
She frowned. “That wasn’t a letter. You were taunting me.”
“No, I wasn’t.” I tensed, shooting forward over the table when I caught myself. Now was not the time to resume restoring our old habit of arguing.
