by Anna Joung
“Summer?”
Maybe she’s upstairs, hiding in her room so I head up there, flowers in hand and heart in my mouth. Never in a million years would I have thought I’d ever be so whipped, I’m nervous about having a conversation with a woman. Squaring my shoulders, I knock on her door. Trying the knob, I find it unlocked so I cautiously push it open to peep inside.
“Hey, Summer, I’m sorry about barging in like this but I really need to talk―”
She isn’t in the room and it feels strangely...empty. Her easel isn’t even mounted beside the window. It’s always there. “Summer?”
A little panicked because something feels off, I step into the room. Her suitcase isn’t in the closet, and the bathroom is devoid of all of her belongings. What the fuck is going on? If she went out with her pal, Brooke, like usual, why would all her things be gone? Hurrying back downstairs, trying to ignore the bad feeling in my gut, I march to the kitchen. I stop in my tracks at the sight of a piece of paper lying on the counter with the engagement ring I gave Summer resting on top of it. It sends my feeling of dread up a notch and I don’t even know what’s written in the note.
Stupidly, I just stand and stare at the white sheet as if it’s about to go off like a grenade or something. Summer’s neat handwriting scrawled down the length of it means nothing good. I feel it in my gut. It takes a while for my legs to move, to carry me to the note. I guess my body thinks that if I don’t read whatever bad news I know is on it, everything will be okay.
My fingers shake a little when I pick up the ring and turn it over between my fingers. Sure, it can be considered a symbol of pretense. I mean, I only gave it to her to make our engagement look real to outsiders. But, it quickly came to mean something more. Seeing it on her finger made me feel good―made me feel like she was already mine. Breath lodged in my throat, I read the note. The further my eyes move down the paper, the further my heart drops, until the organ is virtually in a puddle on the floor. Disappointment, disbelief, and anger… everything floods me all at once. The bouquet and the ring fall to the floor.
I crush the piece of paper in a tight fist, barely able to breathe. Summer left. She just upped and left without a word. Gone. Forever? She said she couldn’t handle my changing mood and she needs time. Fuck. Yeah, that one is really on me. My own confusion over my new, unexpected feeling for her was projected on more than one occasion. I probably gave her emotional whiplash. I can own that mistake and I was ready to apologize. I’m too late. I drove her away. But she also said she loves me. I open the note again to peer at that one line. I truly love you…
In a burst of temper, I throw the balled-up piece of paper. If she loves me, why the hell leave me? You told her to leave, dumbass, my snarky subconscious reminds me. Groaning, I press the heels of my hand to my forehead right where a dull ache is starting. I can’t let this happen. She has to come back. How else am I going to fix things between us?
Reaching for my phone, I scowl at the device and angrily jab at Summer’s name on the screen. Each unanswered ring sends my anxiety skyrocketing. Three calls later and nothing.
“Come on.”
Angrily, I tap out a text.
R: What the fuck, Summer? Where the hell are you?
My finger lingers over the send button. What am I doing? I can’t make this right with anger. I already made her feel as if she had to leave and here I am, ready to send an angry text, making demands. Taking a deep breath, I delete and try again.
R: Summer, I came home, and you were gone... I read your note. I’m sorry I drove you away.
She doesn’t respond.
R: Summer, I know you’re upset but please answer my texts or call me back. I need to talk to you.
Ten minutes later there’s still no response and I’m at my wit’s end. I try calling again and it goes to voicemail. “Summer …” I don’t even know what to say at this point. “Please… you can’t just pack up and leave without a word. I’m going out of my fucking mind, here. If you don’t want to talk to me, at least let me know you’re okay. Where are you? Are you safe?” I don’t bother trying to hide the desperation behind my words. “Look, just… come back. Let’s talk. I need to talk to you. I know I messed up and I want to fix things. Call me. Text me. Please.”
Torturous minutes tick by as I sit and twiddle my thumbs and stare at my phone. Nothing. She really isn’t going to respond. Scrubbing a hand over my face, I drop my head to the table. I’m about ready to bash my own skull in on the dining room table out of sheer frustration. Then a message comes in. I reach for the phone so fast, the chair almost topples over.
S: I’m ok.
The fuck? That’s it? I’m relieved to hear from her and I’m super glad she’s okay, but I need more.
R: Why did you leave so suddenly? Where are you?
S: Don’t worry about me, just know that I’m ok.
I bang my fist on the table.
R: Tell me where you are. I’ll come to you.
S: No, I need time. Goodbye Rebel.
Heart hammering, I stare at her last line. Goodbye, Rebel. That sounds awfully permanent. For someone who’s experienced pain and disappointments in life, nothing ever prepared me for this gut-wrenching, heart-shattering moment. It’s difficult to take my next breath. I feel like my world is crumbling around me. I can virtually hear the cracks and tears of my fucking life coming undone. So, this is what it truly means to get one’s heartbroken.
Summer
I’m in my new house―yes, house, not apartment. Van ended up doing way too much and got me a whole two-story house. I told him I don’t need this much space but he insisted on the nice house in the posh neighborhood. He said he’ll sleep better knowing I’m comfortable and safe. He’s sweet and I’m mighty glad I have a big brother right now. He’s made moving away from Rebel less difficult.
There’s nothing he can do to ease the pain in my chest, though. The dull, nagging ache of heartbreak. There’s also the constant thought of wondering if I made a huge mistake. Should I have stayed at Rebel’s and talked to him? Tell him I’m carrying his child?
“Oh, my gosh. I’m no better than Victoria.” I groan, clutching my stomach and fighting back rising nausea. I literally ran away with Rebel’s child. I feel like the worst person who has ever walked the face of the earth.
“Summer, you’re thinking too hard again, I can tell.”
I blink and glance up at Van, who’s holding two cups in his hand. He stopped by today to see how I’m settling in my new digs. He hands me a cup and I take a sip of the hot beverage. The taste of honey and lemon tickle my taste buds.
“Thanks,” I tell him. “This is nice.”
Van sits on the sofa across from me and smiles. “I heard lemon and honey helps with an upset stomach.”
Christ. Van is growing on me super fast.
“What?” he asks. “You’re looking at me funny.”
“Sorry, I just… you keep surprising me.” He lifts an inquiring brow and I explain, “I wasn’t expecting you to be so good to me.”
His lips twitch. “Thanks...”
“I mean to me. You just met me. I’m the sister who pretty much ruined your childhood. My mother and me. Your father had a whole tawdry affair and a child with my mother. Yet, you’ve accepted me as if I’m not an outsider.”
Staring into his cup he smiles. “Summer, it’s not your fault that our father was a total dick. And still is a total dick.”
I snort. That he is. My old man has been alive this entire time and he didn’t make an effort to be a part of my life. Van is probably right about him being a dick. I’ve been trying to reserve judgment, however. “I’d still like to meet him someday.”
Van’s lips twist sardonically. “You might not be impressed.”
I chuckle. “Well, you’re biased. The disdain is just dripping from your words.”
He snorts and I can’t suppress my giggle. “Well look at me, sitting in my new house, sipping tea and talking shit about my old man with my st
ep-brother.”
Van’s lips curve into a smile. He lifts his teacup. “Here’s to sibling bonding.”
I snicker. “Our family is so fucked up.”
“Who’s isn’t, right?” He takes a sip of his tea and proceeds to watch me over his cup. Although I feel his assessing eyes on me, I look around the spacious living room. The entire house is expertly and expensively furnished. It’s more than enough space to raise a child but I’m not sure if I’m going to make this permanent.
“Thanks again for finding me this place, Van, but I don’t think I can afford to pay rent for a place like this.”
“Rent? It’s yours. We’ll have it signed over to you in a few days.”
I almost choke on my tea. “Come again?” I asked him to find me a place in this town specifically because I have a plan...which is probably totally insane but I’ll see how things play out.
“You asked me to find you a place here. This house belongs to the Bancrofts. No one uses it. It’s been sitting here gathering dust. Why not give it to you. If you want it, that is.” He sighs. “Please, take it. It’ll be one less property I have to check on.”
I scoff. Listen to him. One less property to check on, as if it’s an annoyance. “Uh...okay...I’ll take the house off of your hands.”
“Good.” He grins. “Granddad will be pleased, it was actually his idea. He’s been asking about you.”
“I can’t meet him yet. I can’t meet anyone yet. I’m not ready. I still haven’t even wrapped my head around my father being alive yet and then with everything else that’s happened…” I stop. Van has no idea what’s happened. He has no idea why I called him, begging him to help me get away from Chicago. He doesn’t know I’m pregnant. Is that even something I should tell my half-brother whom I just met?
I’m desperate to talk to someone. Since I’m hiding away in a secret location and I don’t want anyone to know what’s going on just yet, I can’t turn to my usual avenues for venting and advice: my sister or my best friend. And I’m going crazy keeping everything to myself. Besides, I think I owe him the truth.
Gazing at him through my lashes, I begin, “I bet you’re curious about me calling you out of nowhere to help me escape Chicago.”
He shrugs. “Sure but I figured you’d let me know what’s going on if you wanted to. I’m just glad I could help. You don’t owe me any explanations.”
“Wow, are you working for the best brother of the year award or what?”
His low chuckle fills the room. “I’m glad I’m not crashing and burning, considering I’ve never played the role before.”
“You’re doing great. By now, my sister would probably be physically holding me down on this sofa, demanding I tell her what’s going on.”
Eyebrows shooting up, he asks, “Is your sister in the habit of torturing you for information?”
“She used to tickle torture me when we were kids. I’d have no choice but to blab all my secrets. I fucking hate being ticklish.”
Van roars and my smile surfaces. “Sounds like I missed out on a lot growing up as an only child.” He rubs his chin. “I can hear the affection in your voice when you talk about her.”
“Of course. I love my sister to death but she’s such a judgmental bitch.” Van’s eyes widen a fraction and I shrug. “It’s okay, I’ve told her to her face many times and she knows it’s true. My mother is the same and so is my stepfather. That’s why I called you. I figured you’re the only one who wouldn’t judge.”
“I’m not in the business of judging. I’m far from perfect, after all.”
I point a finger at him and smirk. “See? I knew I liked you.”
He laughs and I share in his amusement but it quickly fades away. Sobering, I pull in a deep breath. “You didn’t find it strange that I asked you for the best doctor in the area as soon as I arrived yesterday?”
Van peers at me for a while and then shrugs. “Not strange. I was mostly worried especially since you didn’t look well.” He lifts a brow. “You still don’t.”
I put my cup down because my rising anxiety is making my fingers shake. I lace them together. “I went to the doctor to confirm my pregnancy.” The room is silent but it’s not awkward as I expected. My cheeks are on fire because this isn’t something I ever wanted to tell a virtual stranger. But, Van has been good to me. It’s not like he’ll go and tell Rebel or my family. He doesn’t even know Rebel. I feel as if I can trust him with this.
“Congratulations…” His eyes narrow. “Although I’m not sure if I should offer congratulations because you look absolutely miserable.”
Dropping my head into my hand, I sigh. “I don’t know how to feel about it if that makes any sense. God, you must think I’m horrible for not being happy about a baby.”
“I don’t think anything. I told you, I won’t judge.”
Nibbling my lower lip, I pull my knees up to my chest. “The thing is, this wasn’t in my plans for my immediate future. I had planned to focus on building an art career, which is hard enough without a child.”
“What about the father? Is he not willing to help?”
I groan. “He doesn’t know he’s going to be a father...again.” Agitation growing, I thread my fingers through my hair and blurt out, “It’s Rebel.”
“You’re boyfriend? The one from the video?”
That whole viral video of Rebel decking Roy will never go away. “Yes, but he isn’t...he was never my boyfriend.”
“Sure, you’ve denied it before. You once told me he was just a friend.” A slight smile lifts his lips. “I assumed you told me that because you’re private about your life.”
Should I tell him the full story? He’ll probably think I’m a nut job. Oh, but he doesn’t judge. I snort inwardly. Wait until he hears this madness. “Okay, full disclosure― but swear you’ll take this to the grave.”
He grins. “I’m good with secrets,”
“I was Rebel’s fake fiance.” I wait, watch him closely, wait for him to go back on his word and start judging. Like my family. However, Van just keeps watching me, his expression neutral.
“Is there more to the story?” he asks.
“So much more. I met him at a bar, so cliche right?”
He shrugs. “Then what happened?”
“Well, Rebel came into my life because of you, actually.”
Van sits taller. “Me?”
“I met him the night you hired me to do your painting. I needed a male model. Rebel volunteered to be the model. After that, he came up with this insane idea to help him get his son back.” I pause. “Van, please, never mention this to anyone. I’d never want to get him into trouble with his ex-wife. I want him to get his son back so badly.”
“You have my word. Whatever you tell me will stay with me.”
“Okay.” Relaxing, I tell him the tale of how Rebel and I came to be fake engaged, how I fell for him. I tell him how finding out about him and the real story about my father threw me for a loop. Everything became too much. I couldn’t deal with my family drama and my growing feelings for Rebel, while not knowing if I had a future with him. “I mean, it isn’t safe to invest my emotions in someone who’s going to walk away after our arrangement, right?” Arrangement. I’ve come to hate that word with a passion. Saying it and hearing it reminds me of how not real my relationship with Rebel was.
Chin resting on his palm, Van says, “But since you fell for each other, it could have worked out.”
“How do you know he fell for me?”
“When a man risks going to jail by punching out the lights of a man talking shit about you, chances are, he’s in love.” His smirk is teasing. “I should know, I’m a man. Wait, didn’t he actually go to jail for it?”
Massaging the bridge of my nose, I huff. “He did.”
“See? He was in love the whole time.”
“Yeah, the thing is, he told me he loves me but then he told me the engagement―the fake engagement―was off and he told me to leave.”
“The fuck?”
Van’s perplexed expression illustrates how I felt when Rebel told me to go. I can’t help giggling. “Your expression is hilarious.”
“Why would he… after he took you to meet his family?”
“I’m afraid he’s not capable of trusting anyone. He’s so unsure, I don’t think he ever experienced love before.” I stretch my legs out and flop back on the sofa. Lying supine, fingers laced over my abdomen where Rebel’s child is growing―oh my freaking God―I stare up at the ceiling. I feel like I’m laying on a therapist’s couch. “He claimed to be setting me free from our deal because he could see that I was miserable. Of course, I looked miserable. I’d just found out that my mother lied to me about my father being dead my entire life, and that I have a brother.” I glance at him and smile. “That part isn’t bad. You’ve been great.”
Van smiles back. “Did you tell him why you’ve been down in the dumps?”
Heat floods my face and I avert my gaze. “Well...no.”
“Shit. Summer. Maybe you should have told him what was going on. The poor guy probably thought he was the problem.”
“So, he’s the poor guy now? What about me.”
He holds up both hands. “I’m not saying he did right. I’m just saying you should have mentioned that you’re going through a lot right now. I’m sure he would have understood.”
Is it possible that I’m not capable of trusting? Because he’s totally right, I harumph. Of course, I’m aware that I didn’t handle the situation in the ideal mature manner. But… “Might I remind you that the poor guy pretty much told me that there was nothing between us?”
“But then, you said he took it back. He said he lied about that because he wasn’t sure about his own feelings.”
I go quiet, thinking about my last conversation with Rebel. I remember every word, every detail of his expression. He did confess to lying about that but how can I be sure of anything he says he feels? “I don’t know, Van, I guess, there’s a small part of me that’s skeptical about his feelings for me.” I don’t think I can trust Rebel, not after how he was playing with me. I sigh and look around. “Which is why I need to be here, away from him for a while. In time, I’ll know how he truly feels. I think I need this. I think we both need space and time away from each other. It’ll put things into perspective for both of us.”