It Happened One Summer

by Tessa Bailey

  It was girl language, and yet, he so thoroughly understood what Hannah meant, because Piper did have a singular sparkle. Whether they were arguing or laughing or fucking, it was always there, pulling him into her universe, making everything perfect. That sparkle was positivity and life and promise of better things, and she always, always had it, glowing within the blue of her irises, lighting up the room. The fact that it had gone out, and that he’d had something to do with it, gutted him where he stood.

  “I should have gone and found her,” Brendan said, more to himself than anyone else. “When she didn’t show up at the dock. I should have gone to find her. What the hell did I leave for?”

  “She did show up,” a woman’s voice said behind him. Sanders’s wife approached, a half-drunk beer in her hand. “She was there, just late. Blubbering all over the place.”

  Brendan had to rely on the stool to hold his weight.

  “Told her to toughen up,” his crew member’s wife said, but her tone changed when people around her started to mutter. “In a nice way,” she added defensively. “I think.”

  Jesus. He could barely breathe for thinking of her crying while he sailed away.

  He couldn’t fucking stand it.

  Brendan was still reeling from the news that Piper had come to see him off, that she’d shed tears over missing him, when an older man ambled toward the front of the crowd with a white bandage taped to his head.

  Abe? The man who owned the hardware store in town with his sons?

  “It was my fault Piper was late to the dock, Captain. She’s been walking me to the museum every morning so I could read my paper. Can’t get up the stairs alone these days.” He fussed with his bandage. “Fell and smacked my noggin off the sidewalk. Piper had to stay with me until Todd came. It took a while because he was dropping my grandbaby off at school.”

  “She’s been walking you to the museum every day?” Brendan asked, voice unnatural on account of the wrench twisting a permanent bolt into his throat. She hadn’t said anything about Abe. She’d just picked up another best friend and made him important. It was what she did.

  “Yes, sir. She’s the sweetest girl you ever want to meet.” His eyes flooded with humor. “If my sons weren’t married and she hadn’t gone and fallen in love with the captain here, I’d be playing matchmaker.”

  Stop, he almost shouted. Might have, if his vocal cords had been working.

  He was going to die.

  He was dying.

  “Sweet doesn’t even cover it,” piped up Opal, where she stood near the back of the crowd. “I hadn’t left my apartment in an age, since my son passed. Not for more than grocery shopping or a quick walk. Not until Piper fixed me right up, and Hannah showed me how to use iTunes. My granddaughters brought me back to the living.” A few murmurings went up at the impassioned speech. “What is this nonsense about Piper going back to LA?”

  “Yeah!” A girl Piper’s age appeared at Opal’s side. “We’re supposed to have a makeup tutorial. She gave me a smoky eye last week, and two customers at work asked for my number.” She slumped. “I love Piper. She’s not really gone, is she?”

  “Uh, yeah,” Hannah shouted. “She is. Maybe try showing up on time, Westport.”

  “Sorry about that,” Abe said, looking guilty along with everyone around him. “There was an oil rig fire off the coast. A young man from town works there, drilling. I reckon everyone was waiting for news, to make sure one of our own was all right, before heading to the party.”

  “We really need to get a television,” Hannah muttered.

  Brendan sat there bereft as more and more proof mounted that Piper had been putting down roots. Quietly, carefully, probably just to see if she could. Probably scared she wouldn’t succeed. It had been his job to comfort her—and he’d blown it.

  He’d lost the best thing that ever happened to him.

  He could still hear her that night when they’d sat on a bench overlooking the harbor, moments after she’d waltzed into the memorial dinner with a tray of tequila shots.

  Since we got here, it has never been more obvious that I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m really good at going to parties and taking pictures, and there’s nothing wrong with that. But what if that’s it? What if that’s just it?

  And with those insecurities in tow, she’d proceeded to touch everyone in this room, in one way or another. Carving her way into everyone’s hearts. Making herself indispensable. Did she even know how thoroughly she’d succeeded? Piper had once said Brendan was Westport, but now it was the other way around. This place was her.

  Please . . . don’t doubt me, Brendan. Not you. Have faith in me. Okay?

  There was no way, no way in hell, he could let that be the last thing she said to him. Might as well lie down and die right there, because he wouldn’t be able to live with it. And no way her last memory of him would be leaving his house, leaving her crying, for God sakes.

  Brendan steadied himself, distributing his weight in a way that would allow him to move, to walk, without further rupturing the shredded heart in his chest. “It’s my fault she’s gone. The responsibility is mine. She is mine.” He swallowed glass. “And I’m going to get her.”

  Well aware he could fail, Brendan ignored the loud cheer that went up.

  He started to turn from the bar, but Hannah waved a hand to catch his attention. She dug her phone out of her pocket, punched the screen, and slid it toward him across the wood Piper had spent a week sanding to perfection, applying the lacquer with careful concentration.

  Brendan looked down at the screen and swallowed. There was Piper. Blowing a kiss beneath the words “The Party Princess’s Triumphant Return,” followed by an address for a club in Los Angeles. Tomorrow night at nine p.m.

  Five-hundred-dollar cover.

  People were going to pay five hundred dollars just to be in the same room with his girlfriend, and he couldn’t fault them. He’d have given his life savings to be standing in front of her at that moment. Jesus, he missed her so much.

  “Technically, she’s not supposed to be back in LA yet or I’d tell you to try our house first. She’s probably staying with Kirby, but I don’t have her contact info.” Hannah nodded at the phone. “You’ll have to catch her at the club.”

  “Thanks,” he managed, grateful she wasn’t punishing him like he deserved. “I’d go anywhere.”

  “I know.” Hannah squeezed his hand on the bar. “Go make it right.”

  Brendan paced toward the door, pulse ticking in his ears, but Mick stepped into his path before he could walk back out into the cold. “Brendan, I . . .” He bowed his head. “When you track her down, will you apologize for me? I wasn’t too kind to her earlier tonight.”

  A dagger twisted between Brendan’s eyes. Christ, how much heartache had his Piper been forced to deal with since he boarded the boat on Saturday? First he’d left, then her stepfather had canceled. No one showed up to her grand opening—or so she thought. And now he was finding out Mick had potentially hurt her feelings?

  His hands formed fists at his sides, battling the fierce urge to break something. “I’m afraid to ask what you said, Mick,” he whispered, closing his eyes.

  “I might have implied that she couldn’t replace my daughter,” Mick said in a low voice, regret lacing every word.

  Brendan exhaled roughly, his misery complete. Ravaging him where he stood. “Mick,” he responded with forced calm. “Your daughter will always have a place in my heart. But Piper owns that heart. She came here and robbed me blind of it.”

  “I see that now.”

  “Good. Get right with it.”

  Unable to say another word, unable to do anything but get to her, get to her by any means necessary, Brendan strode to his truck and burned rubber out of Westport.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Oh, she’d made a huge mistake.

  Huge.

  Piper sat astride a mechanical unicorn, preparing to be elevated through a trapdoor onto a stage. Kirby
shoved a puffy princess wand into her hand, and Piper stared at the object, lamenting the fact that she couldn’t magically wish herself out of this situation.

  Her name was being chanted by hundreds of people overhead.

  Their feet stomped on the floor of the club, shaking the ceiling. Behind the scenes, people kept coming over to her, snapping selfies without permission, and Piper imagined she looked shell-shocked in every single one of them.

  This was exactly what she’d always wanted. Fame, recognition, parties thrown in her honor.

  And all she wanted now was to go home.

  Not to Bel-Air. No, she wanted to be in the recharging station. That was home.

  Brendan was home.

  The chanting grew louder along with the stomping, and Kirby danced in a circle around Piper, squealing. “Savor the anticipation, bitch! As soon as they start playing your song, the hydraulics are going to bring you up slowly. When you wave the wand, the lighting guy is going to make it look like you’re sprinkling fairy dust. It looks so real. People are going to shit.”

  Okay, fine, that part was pretty cool.

  “What song is it?”

  “‘Girls Just Want to Have Fun’ remixed with ‘Sexy and I Know It.’ Obviously.”

  “Oh yeah. Obviously.”

  Kirby fanned her armpits. “Try and time your fairy flicks with the beat, you know?”

  Piper swallowed, looking down at her Lhuillier dress, her black garters peeking out beneath the hem on either side of the unicorn. Getting dressed had been a fun distraction, as had primping and getting her hair professionally styled, but . . . now that the time had come to make her “triumphant” return, she felt kind of . . . counterfeit.

  Her heart was in smithereens.

  She didn’t want to enter a club on a hydraulic unicorn.

  She didn’t want to have her picture taken and plastered all over social media. There would never be anything wrong with having a good time. Or dancing and dressing how she chose to dress. But when she’d gone to Westport and not one of these people had called or texted or been interested in the aftermath of the party they’d enjoyed, she’d gotten a glimpse at how phony it all was. How quickly the fanfare went away.

  When the time came for her to rise up through the stage, none of the applause would be for Piper. For the real Piper. It would be a celebration of her building a successful image. And that image didn’t mean anything. It didn’t count. She thought slipping back into this scene would be easy, that she’d just sink into it and revel, be numb for a little while. But all she could think about was . . . who would have coffee with Opal tomorrow? Who would walk Abe to the museum?

  Those visits made her feel a million times better than the momentary bursts of internet stardom. Because it was just her, living in real moments, not fabricating them for the entertainment of others.

  Making over the bar with her sister, standing on the deck of a boat with the love of her life’s arms around her, running through the harbor mist, making friends who seemed interested in her and not what she could do for them. Those things counted.

  This was all for show, and participating in it made Piper feel less true to herself. Like she was selling herself short.

  This fame she’d always reached for was finally reaching back, and she wasn’t interested.

  Piper, Piper, Piper.

  The chants were deafening now, but she only wanted to hear one voice saying her name. Why didn’t she stay and fight for him? What was he doing now?

  “Brendan,” she whispered, the yearning for him so intense she almost doubled over. “I’m sorry, I miss you. I’m sorry.”

  “What?” Kirby shouted over the noise. “Okay, you’re going up. Hold on, bitch!”

  “No, wait.” Piper swiped at her damp eyes. “I want to get off. Let me off.”

  Kirby looked at her like she was insane. “It’s too late. You’re already moving.”

  And she was. So much faster than she’d expected.

  This unicorn really had some get-up-and-go.

  Piper clung to the synthetic mane and held her breath, looking up to watch the stage doors slide open above her. Dammit. Dammit. There was no turning back. She could jump, but she’d almost certainly break an ankle in these shoes. She’d break these beautiful Tom Ford heels, too, and that went against her very religion.

  Her head was about to clear the stage.

  With a deep breath, Piper sat up straighter and smiled, waving at the crowd of people who were going wild. For her. It was an out-of-body experience, being suspended above their heads, and she didn’t like it. Didn’t want to be there, sitting like a jackass on this unicorn while hundreds of people captured her image on their phones.

  I want to go home. I just want to go home.

  The unicorn finally settled in on the stage. Great. She was already searching for the closest exit. But when she climbed off, she’d flash the entire club. There was no other way to stay modest than to block her crotch with the unicorn hair and awkwardly slide off, which she did now, people pressing in against the stage. She didn’t just feel like a trapped animal. She was one. There was no way out.

  Piper turned, searching for an avenue of escape—and there he was.

  Brendan? No, it couldn’t be. Her sea captain didn’t belong in LA. They were two entities that didn’t make sense in the same space.

  She held up a hand to block the flashing strobe light, and God. My God. He really was there, standing a foot taller than everyone in the crowd, bearded and beautiful and steady and salt of the earth. They locked eyes, and he slowly pulled the beanie off his head, holding it to the center of his chest, almost a deferential move—and his expression was a terrible mixture of sadness and wonder. No. She had to get to him. Being this close and not being in his arms was positively torture. He was there. He was there.

  “Brendan!” Piper screamed, her voice swallowed up by the noise.

  But she saw his lips move. Knew he called her name back.

  Unable to be parted from him any longer, she dropped to her butt and scooted off the stage, pushing through the tightly packed crowd, praying she was moving in the right direction, because she couldn’t see him anymore. Not with the flashing lights and the phones in her face.

  “Brendan!”

  Hands grabbed at her, making it impossible for her to move. The arms of strangers slung around her neck, pulling her into selfies, hot breath glanced across her neck, her shoulders. No, no, no. She only wanted one touch. One perfect man’s touch.

  “Piper!”

  She heard his deep, panicked voice and spun around in the kaleidoscope of color, flashes going off, disorienting her. Tears were rolling down her face, but she left them there in favor of trying to push through the crowd. “Brendan!”

  Adrian appeared in front of her, momentarily distracting Piper from her maze run, because it was all so absurd. She was trying to get to the most wonderfully real human on earth, and this fake, hurtful man-child was blocking her path. Who did he think he was?

  “Hey, Piper. I was hoping I’d run into you!” Adrian shouted over the music. “You look fucking amazing. We should get a drink—”

  Brendan loomed behind her ex-boyfriend and, without hesitation, flicked him aside like a pesky ant, sending him flying, and Piper wasted no time in launching herself into the recharging station. A sense of rightness took hold in a split second, bringing her back to herself. Back to earth. Brendan lifted her up, locking his arms around her as tight as they would go, and she melted into the embrace like butter. Her legs wrapped around his hips, she buried her face in his neck and sobbed like a baby. “Brendan. Brendan.”

  “I’ve got you. I’m right here.” Fiercely, he kissed the side of her face, her hair, her temple. “Stay or go, baby? What do you need?”

  “Go, please. Please. Get me out of here.”

  Piper felt Brendan’s surprise register—surprise that she wanted to leave?—followed by a tightening of his muscles. One hand cupped the back of her head pro
tectively, and then he was moving through the crowd, ordering people out of his way, and she was positive she’d never, ever been safer in her entire life. She breathed in the scent of his cologne and clung to his shoulders, secure in her absolute trust of this man. He’d come. After everything, he’d come.

  A moment later, they were out on the street, but Brendan didn’t stop moving. He carried Piper past the line of gaping onlookers, kept going until the pumping bass faded and relative quiet fell around them. And only then did he stop walking, but he didn’t let her go. He walked her into the doorway of a bank and rocked her side to side, his arms like a vise.

  “I’m sorry, baby,” he grated against her forehead. “I’m so fucking sorry. I shouldn’t have left. I should never have left or made you cry. Please forgive me.”

  Piper hiccupped into his neck and nodded; she would forgive him for anything in that moment if he just stayed. But before she could say anything, he continued.

  “I do have faith in you, Piper. I will never doubt you again. You deserve so much better than what I gave, and it was wrong of me, so wrong, to get angry at you for protecting yourself. You were giving so much already. You give so much to everyone and everything you touch, you incredible fucking girl, and I love you. More than any goddamn ocean, do you hear me? I love you, and I’m falling deeper by the minute, so, baby, please stop crying. You looked so beautiful up there. God, you looked so beautiful and I couldn’t reach you.”

  His words made her feel like she was floating. They were pure Brendan in their honesty and depth and gruffness and humility. And they were for her.

  How wholly he gave himself, this man.

  How wholly she wanted to give herself in return.

  “I love you, too,” she whispered tremulously, kissing his neck, his mouth, pulling deeply on his firm, welcoming lips. “I love you, too. I love you. I didn’t want to be there tonight. I only wanted to be with you, Brendan. I just wanted to hear your voice so badly.”

  “Then I’ll talk until my voice gives out,” he rasped, slanting his lips over the top of hers, breathing into her mouth. Accepting her breath in return. “I’ll love you until my heart gives out. I’ll be your man for a thousand years. Longer if I’m allowed.” With a miserable sound, he kissed the tears off her cheeks. “I messed up so bad, Piper. I let my fear of losing you get between us. It blinded me.” He drew back, waited until she looked at him. Up into all that intensity. “If you need Los Angeles to be happy, then we’ll make it work. I can go up north for crab season and dock the new boat closer to LA the rest of the year. If you’ll have me back, we’ll make it happen. I won’t let us fail. Just let me love you forever.”