Cure for the Common Breakup (23 page)

“Just as you like. I'll let you stay. But remember, it's not I who will be inflicting suffering on the residents of this town. It's you.”

“F
inally!” Jenna paused in the middle of refilling the candy bowls as Summer walked into the Whinery. “It's about time.”

Summer glanced out the plate glass window, where the blazing sun was beating down on Scarlett and the garbage bags piled in the convertible's passenger seat. “Settle down, ladies. It's the middle of the afternoon. Even I have to pace myself.”

Hollis put down the paperback she was reading. “Wait until you hear.”

Summer sat next to her. “Hear what?”

Hollis and Jenna exchanged a flurry of looks. “You'd better have a drink first.”

Jenna tossed her a Hershey's Kiss. “And some chocolate.”

“Let me see your manicure.” Hollis grabbed Summer's hand and inspected her nail polish. “Might want to go see Cori for a touch-up.”

“Did you two already start drinking without me?” Summer snatched her hand back. “You did, didn't you? And here I thought we were friends!”

Jenna and Hollis glanced at each other again, and Summer snapped.

“Stop! Stop with the meaningful looks and the cryptic comments and tell me what's going on before I beat it out of you.”

“Okay.” Jenna stepped out from behind the bar and sat down on the other side of Summer. “So. You know how everyone around here is always gossiping about everyone else?”

“Yes.”

Hollis started bouncing around in her seat. “Well, right now, we're gossiping about you.”

“About me and Hattie?” Summer crumpled up the Hershey's Kiss wrapper and ripped into a fun-size Milky Way. “Word travels fast, huh?”

“No.” Jenna looked confused. “About you and Dutch.”

Summer froze, a string of caramel dangling from her lip. “What about me and Dutch?”

Hollis crowded in closer, even though there were no other customers. “He's going to ask you to marry him.”

Summer burst out laughing. “Warn me before you say these things so I don't spray caramel everywhere.”

Hollis and Jenna stared at her, both of them wide-eyed and straight-faced. “We're serious.”

“Very serious.”

“Utterly and completely serious.”

Summer stopped laughing and put down the candy bar. “No, you're not.”

“Oh yes.” Hollis nodded, her green eyes earnest. “I went over to Bethany Beach yesterday for an author event.”

“She's a crazy stalker,” Jenna explained.

Hollis's porcelain complexion glowed pink. “I am not! I know this guy from when I lived in L.A. He wasn't always a writer.”

“So it's a guy?” Jenna asked.

“Yes.”

“And is he attractive?”

“By whose standards?” Hollis demanded.

Jenna grinned. “Yours.”

“Well.” Hollis's cheeks got even pinker. “Yes.”

“And did you happen to take this attractive male out for lunch after the event? You know, just to talk about books and writing and your glory days in Hollywood?”

“We did not have lunch!” Hollis looked triumphant, then muttered, “We had dinner.”

“Uh-huh. I thought so. Stalker.”

“Hello?” Summer raised her hand as if waiting to be called on in math class. “Can we get back to me and my problems, please?”

“You don't have any problems,” Jenna informed her. “You're going to marry Dutch Jansen and live happily ever after.”

“It's probably a great ring, too,” Hollis added. “Knowing Dutch.”

“There is no ring,” Summer assured them. “You're high. You have been smoking a meth lab's worth of drugs.”

“No, listen!” Hollis said. “This is what I was going to tell you before I was so rudely interrupted. So I was in Bethany Beach yesterday, and there was a jewelry store next to the bookstore. The door was open, and I thought I heard Dutch's voice when I walked by. Sure enough, there he was, looking into a display case with Ingrid.”

“Oh.” Relief flooded through Summer. “That's it? That doesn't mean he's going to propose. That doesn't mean
anything
. He was with his sister, for God's sake. They were probably getting his watch repaired.”

Hollis shook her head, her eyes sparkling. “They were definitely looking at rings. The salesclerk handed one to Dutch, and he held it up in the sunlight, and then Ingrid said she liked it.”

“Well, they were probably picking out a ring for her, then,” Summer said. “For her birthday or something.”

“Wrong again. Right after Ingrid said she liked it, Dutch said, ‘But do you think
she'd
like it?' and Ingrid said, ‘Maybe she'd rather have a diamond,' and then Dutch said no, it had to be a lavender stone.”

“Lavender?” Summer's throat closed up. “That's . . .”
Perfect.

“Well, what happened?” Jenna demanded. “Did he buy the ring or not?”

“I don't know,” Hollis confessed. “I had to go be a crazy stalker.”

“Priorities, Hollis.
Priorities.
”

“Maybe it's . . . um . . . a friendship ring,” Summer stammered.

“Last time I checked,
friends
don't send each other silk panties in wineglasses.” Jenna shot her a sly grin.

“They also don't end up in the police blotter for ‘amorous activities' in the country club parking lot.” Hollis grabbed Summer's hand and examined her naked fingers. “What's your ring size? Just in case anyone wants to know?”

Right on cue, the front door swung open and Dutch walked in.

Jenna jumped to her feet. Hollis grabbed her book and pretended to be reading. Summer shoved her hands under her thighs. You could practically hear waves of estrogen sloshing around.

“Is this a bad time?” Dutch stopped in his tracks when he saw their faces. “I can come back later.”

“No, no, it's a great time.” Jenna signaled to Hollis and sidled toward the back door. “We were just leaving.”

“We'll be back in a few minutes.” Hollis hopped off her stool. “If you have any, you know, news to share.”

They nudged each other toward the back door, giggling all the way.

Dutch watched them go, his brow creased with bewilderment. After the back door slammed, he asked Summer, “What was that about?”

“Oh, nothing. You know how we do here at the Whinery.” She tried to smile.

“Hey.” He stepped closer and brushed a lock of hair back from her face. “You okay?”

“I'm fine.” She kept her gaze trained on the floor. “There's just a lot going on right now.”

“Everything's about to change, one way or another.” He gave her a quick kiss on the cheek, then moved in for a more thorough kiss on the lips.

The sound system, which had been playing Kacey Musgraves's “Stupid,” went silent. A few seconds later, the violin strains of Etta James's “At Last” poured out of the speakers.

Dutch pulled out of the kiss. “What's
that
about?”

“No idea.” Summer had to laugh. “I'm pretty sure it's sacrilege to play that in here, though. I'm surprised lightning's not striking us down.” She squared her shoulders and took a deep breath. “But I'm glad you're here, because I have some news.”

“So do I.”

Etta James kept crooning away about true love and Summer couldn't even maintain eye contact. “I kind of went nuclear with Hattie this morning.”

“I don't want to talk about her right now.” Dutch slid his index finger under her chin and tilted her face up. “There's something else I need to talk to you about first.” His hand went to his pocket.

And just like that, she was back in the hospital bed, waking up to a splitting headache, a body covered in burns and bruises, a vase full of rotting red roses, and a man about to pull an engagement ring out of his pocket. She remembered how she'd felt when she found out Aaron was on the verge of proposing. Like she couldn't get enough air. Like she was about to pass out.

Right now, she didn't feel like she was going to pass out.

Right now, she felt like she was going to
die
.

Because she wanted to say yes.

She shoved off the bar top with both hands and sprinted out to the sidewalk, slamming the door against her shoulder as she went.

“S
ummer! Summer, come back!”

She ran, but he ran faster. His hand closed around her elbow before she reached the curb.

“What are you doing? Is your shoulder okay?”

“I'm fine!” She wrested away from his grasp. “Leave me alone.”

“Let me look,” he commanded.

She relented and let him roll up her short sleeve and examine the red splotch over her bicep.

“You're going to have a hell of a bruise tomorrow,” he predicted. “You need to put some ice on that.”

“I'm
fine
.” She squinted in the midday sunlight. “I can walk it off.”

“Stay here.” He gave her a look of warning, then strode back into the bar and returned with a bundle of ice cubes wrapped in a pink dish towel. He handed the compress to Summer and led her across the town square to the weathered white gazebo by the bronze dog statue.

“I'm sorry.” Summer sat down and pressed the cold pack against her skin. “I shouldn't have . . . I'm sorry.”

He settled back against the wooden railing, waiting her out.

“You're probably wondering what the hell's wrong with me.” Summer couldn't bring herself to meet his gaze.

“The thought has crossed my mind, yes. But I'm living day in and day out with a seventeen-year-old girl. I'm getting used to dramatic exits.”

“That's not fair,” Summer objected. “Ingrid is much more mature than I am.” She took a moment to regain her self-control. To make sure she wouldn't say anything too rash or reckless. “I'm just upset.”

“I can see that.” He waited for her to elaborate, but she didn't want to tell him about Hattie. Not yet.

More silence. Families and small groups of heartbreak tourists trooped by, their flip-flops smacking against the planks of the boardwalk.

“Summer?” Dutch prompted.

She stared at the burnished bronze dog. “This is going to sound crazy.”

“I'm listening.”

“When I walked into the Whinery today, Hollis said . . . she said . . .” The more she thought about it, the more absurd it sounded in her own mind. She couldn't imagine how ridiculous it would sound coming out of her mouth.

But she couldn't ignore it, either. She couldn't do what she had always done—deflect, defer, deny the truth. This time was different. Dutch was different.

She
was different.

“Hollis said you were looking at rings in Bethany Beach. Like, engagement rings.” When he didn't respond right away, she set down the compress and covered her face with her hands. “I know. I sound like a delusional narcissist.”

“I can't believe this.” Dutch ducked his head, spearing his fingers into his thick brown hair. “There really is no such thing as a secret in this town.” He straightened up. “I should have known that would get back to you.”

“So it's true?”

He picked up the bundle of ice and held it to her shoulder. “You look like you're about to keel over.”

“I need to sit down.” She pitched forward, bracing her elbows on her knees. “I'm already sitting down.”

“The reaction every man hopes for.” He laughed drily. “Don't pass out just yet. It sounds worse than it is.”

She rallied, putting her hand over his on the ice pack. “That came out wrong. What I meant was—”

“The rings were Ingrid's idea. She and I went to lunch, we passed a jewelry store, and she wanted to go in. We must've been in there for an hour, looking at settings and learning about stones. I think she's qualified to be a gemologist at this point.”

Summer wrinkled her nose. “Ingrid doesn't seem like the type to fantasize about rings and weddings and big poufy gowns.”

“She's not. She's already informed me that she'll be having a small ceremony on a cliff in Bali,
if
she ever decides to knuckle under to the patriarchy and shackle herself in the bonds of legal wedlock.”

“Is that verbatim?”

He nodded. “Anyway, she's concerned that we're not moving things along fast enough.”

Summer blinked. “You and I?”

“Yes.”

“But we've only been dating for a few weeks. Engagement rings are definitely not part of our agreement!”

“I know. But no matter how mature she thinks she is, she's still seventeen. And she wants you to stay in town after tourist season's over. She wants us to knuckle under to the patriarchy and shackle ourselves in the bonds of legal wedlock.”

“What do you want?” Summer asked.

He gave her a look. “I'm not sure answering that is in my best interests right now. You practically dislocated your shoulder fleeing me.”

“Oh, come on.” She leaned her shoulder against his. “Off the record.”

“I think we've only been dating for a few weeks. I'm not ruling anything out, but we're still in the planning and development stages.”

“Like floating a bill through subcommittee.” Summer was surprised to hear the wistful note in her voice. “But it's only fair to tell you now: I'm not the kind of girlfriend you buy a ring for.”

He rolled his eyes. “If you're worried about all the worn-out stereotypes of political wives, I can assure you—”

“No. It's not that I'm not political-wife material; it's that I'm not wife material. Period. Full stop.”

“Says who?”

“Dutch, come on.” She let her posture relax into a slouch. “I'm a temporary distraction from your real life.”

“You're part of my real life,” he insisted.

“I wish that were true.” She dropped her hand, letting the ice pack rest next to her hip. “I'm so, so happy I met you and harassed you into going out with me.”

“Me, too.”

“But we're not going to last.” She struggled to appear unaffected amid the swirl of guilt and fear and shame. “We're having fun. But ‘fun' is kind of all I am.”

“That's not true.” He pressed his hand over hers, reassuring her while also preventing a second escape attempt.

“Isn't it?” She touched his hand. “What do you really know about me? We just met.”

“I've made up my mind about you, Summer. I don't have to justify that decision.” He smiled, those gunmetal gray eyes softening. “You're the girl who ran over my roses and helped me plant new ones. You're the reason I climbed onto Hattie Huntington's roof in the middle of the night. You are the exception to all my rules.”

She remembered the first time she'd seen him working in his garden, focused and fulfilled. Gardening was something—the only thing—he did simply because he wanted to. Because it made him happy.

She had seen the world through his eyes that day. She had said the roses were magic, and she'd been right.

This tiny town by the sea was full of magic: the black dog, the resurrection of hope, the love they'd cultivated like a rose bloom unfurling in the sun.

She ached to tell him everything, to confide in him that he'd changed her forever, for the better. But all she could manage was, “You do have a lot of rules.”

“A lot of rules and a lot of responsibilities, and I signed up for that. But when I'm with you”—he shrugged—“I don't feel so tied down.”

“But that's what a relationship is. Being tied down.”

“Not if you do it right.” He gathered her into his arms, pressing his lips against her temple. “But I'd brace myself, if I were you. I think Ingrid might be getting ready to pop the question.”

She laughed and got to her feet. “Can we stop talking and go make out in a parking lot or something?”

“I thought you'd never ask.”

—

Summer sat with her back propped against Dutch's headboard, watching the waves sparkle under the golden sunset. The whole room seemed to glow, warm and quiet.

Very quiet. Dutch hadn't had a lot to say since he'd taken her home from the gazebo a few hours ago.

He'd gotten his point across, though. Several times.

She slipped out of bed, still naked, and walked over to the window. An amazing vista stretched out into the horizon—shingled roof hanging over a rainbow of roses edging into the white-capped waves. “It looks like it goes on forever.”

He walked up behind her, still silent.

“But it doesn't.” She tried to explain, to justify herself. “That was my life before this, Dutch. Shuttling planes full of people across the ocean. Around the world, full circle.”

When he finally spoke, she could hear the smile in his voice. “Only to end up in Delaware.”

She tried to smile, too. “Nothing goes on forever. Everything is finite, even if we can't see the end point from the starting point.”

He was so close she could feel his body heat against her cool skin. “What about pi?” he asked. “What about a googol?”

“Google is an Internet search engine,” she said. “Forever is a fairy tale.” If she leaned back a fraction of an inch, she would be touching him. But she didn't.

“I'm not asking for forever,” he said. “I'm asking for today.”

“But what about tomorrow?”

“Don't focus on the end point. Focus on today.”

She let herself lean into him. “I'm trying.”

“I've got you, Summer. I will not let you fall.”

She rested her head in the space between his chin and shoulder.
I love you,
she thought but did not say.

He loved her, too, she knew. More than she deserved.

“But what if you had to choose?” she asked. “Between me and Black Dog Bay?”

“Why would I have to make that choice?” He pulled back a bit. “That doesn't make sense.”

“If you had to choose,” she insisted.

He didn't hesitate. “I would find a way to have both.”

“You can't always find a way,” she said softly. “Love has limits.”