by Marie Carnay
Summer shoved her toes further beneath the sand. How had she let herself fall for them? Again?
It was bad enough the first time—she’d moped through her senior year of college in a self-made funk. Sad and depressed and focused on how she’d screwed everything up. Sleeping with two men? Who does that?
But now? Now she’d gone and given them her heart. Now she had to drag herself back to New York and leave a part of herself behind. A tear slid down her face and landed on her dress. It fanned out in a circle, staining the blue silk with a salty ring.
“Summer.” Blake’s voice carried over the waves and Summer wiped at her face. She wasn’t giving him the satisfaction.
“Go away.”
“No. Not until you talk to us.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
“Yes, there is.” Devin crouched next to her and she rolled her eyes.
“Fine. How many times did you screw my best friend?”
“A few.”
“Before I slept with you?”
“No. Never.”
She snorted. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?” She stared at the ocean waves cresting out in the distance as the lighthouse’s light spun around. Every minute, it washed over the shore and lit up the three of them like a beacon of clarity.
She’d been so blind.
Blake crouched on the other side. “We’re sorry, Summer. We should have told you.”
“You’re damn right you should have.” She kicked at the sand. “Did you all date?”
“No.”
“Then what was it? Fuck buddies?”
Blake hung his head as he balanced his forearms on his thighs. “More like a three-way pity party.”
“Right. And I’m a supermodel.”
“It’s true.” Devin offered. “We’d spent all summer together. You and Blake and me. We’d fallen so hard. That night—Blake and I thought—”
“You’d finally scored?”
“That we’d found the one. You, Summer.” Blake reached out, but she shied away. He dropped his hand.
“Must have changed your mind pretty quick.”
“Blake’s right. When you ran away—we tried. Don’t you remember? All the calls? Emails? Letters? Shit, I even booked a flight out to see you.”
Summer blinked. “You did?”
“Yeah. Blew all my savings just to fly out.”
“I never saw you.”
Devin nodded. “I got a call from your mom. She…talked me out of it. Said you’d already moved on. That I should too.”
“So even my mother was in on it. Figures.”
“Summer, please. Give us a chance.”
She closed her eyes. “I did, Blake. I came back here determined not to see you. Talk to you, nothing. But there you were. And like an idiot, I let you both back in. My mother was right. I never should have come back here.”
Blake reached for her hand and before she could tug it away, he grabbed it. “Summer. Look at me.”
“That won’t change anything.”
He squeezed her hand. “Please.”
Summer blinked back a fresh a wave of tears and opened her eyes.
“I love you. I want you in my life.”
Devin leaned forward and took her other hand. “I love you, too. We were idiots all those years ago. We should have tracked you down, refused to let anything get in our way. Showed you how much you meant to us.”
“Instead you screwed my best friend.”
“And we’re sorry. But, please. Don’t give up on us.”
Summer pried her hands out of both men’s grips and pushed herself up to stand. “I’m sorry. I just don’t think there’s anything worth saving. I’m done.”
“Don’t say that.” Blake reached for her, but she batted him away.
“Just go. Leave me alone. I head out Tuesday. I don’t want to see you again. Go find some other woman to fall into bed with.” She picked her shoes up off the sand and shook them off. “I’m sure there are plenty of drunk women inside you could take home right now.”
She pushed past both men and headed for her room. As she stepped onto the stairs, the lighthouse’s beam lit up the beach. She knew she shouldn’t turn around. Shouldn’t look. But she couldn’t stop.
Summer turned and bit back a sob.
Blake and Devin stood out in the sand—a pair of handsome groomsmen in tuxes, stark against the ocean waves. A perfect picture. Too bad she’d never paint it.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
SUMMER
THE SWEATER SLIPPED from her grasp and she bent to pick it up. A few more clothes and she’d be packed.
“Do you need some help, dear?”
Summer shook her head. “No, Mom. I’ve got it.”
“Good.” Her mother adjusted her skirt and folded her hands in her lap. “I’ve decided to come back with you.”
“You have? I thought you were spending all month here.” Summer folded the last dress and added it on top.
“The ocean views are lovely, but this isn’t the town for me. Not when it seems to bring you so much heartache.”
Summer frowned. Was her mother being nice? “Thanks, Mom.”
“Don’t mention it. Besides, tourist season is just beginning. No sense in missing out on a whole month of rental income when I can come back to New York.”
Ah, there we go. Even in Summer’s darkest hour, her mother had a way making everything about herself. “I see.”
“I’ve spoken with a few other galleries. Specter’s interested in some of your abstracts.”
Summer nodded. Of course they are. “I’ve never been interested in abstract work, mom. You know that. I only painted those because you asked me to.”
“With good reason. Galleries want that sort of work right now.”
Summer sighed. “I know.”
Her mother smiled at her and the corners of her eyes wrinkled. “You should come back to New York. Regroup. Pick a new style. Become the artist you’re meant to be.”
“What if I’m not meant to be an artist?”
Her mother’s smile deepened. “Then you can figure out something new. Reinvent yourself. Use this whole weekend as closure on this part of your life. I know some of your father’s old coworkers would love you have you.”
“I am not going to law school.”
“It was just a thought.” Her mother checked her watch. “Well, I’ve got to go. I’ve got a spa appointment.”
Of course you do. “Okay.”
Her mother stood up and smoothed her skirt. “Think about your future, Summer. What it is you want to make of your life. I’ll see you when you get back to the city.” Her mother leaned in and kissed her on the cheek.
Summer patted her stiff back. “Thanks for coming by.”
Her mother smiled again and headed for the door. “Be sure to call before you come to the flat, dear. I’m going to be in and out working on the foundation gala.”
“I will.”
The door to her room shut and Summer slumped down on the bed. Was this what she had to look forward to?
Going home to New York and scheduling visits with her mom. Afternoon tea in the parlor while she listened to her mother go on and on about this gala and that silent auction. Never once falling into bed with Blake’s arms wrapped around her. Devin’s lips hot on her neck.
She beat the top of her bed with her fists. Damn them! Even if she accepted their apologies, how could she trust them? Every time they fought, she’d wonder. Did they run out to some bar and hook-up with the first woman they saw? Someone she knew? Her best friend?
Pinching the bridge of her nose, she willed the tears away. I’m not crying over them. Not again.
She stood up and flipped the lid of her suitcase shut. One more night. I can make it through one more night. As she stood up, a knock sounded on her door. She frowned. I didn’t order room service.
She walked over and looked through the peephole. Odd. Summer pulled the door open and a delivery ma
n smiled. “Ms. Crenshaw? I have a delivery for you.”
“Um…okay.”
He held out a clipboard and she signed on the line.
“It’s right here. Watch out, it’s kinda awkward.” The man stepped to the side and in a second was back, carrying an oversized paper-wrapped parcel.
Summer’s stomach flipped. “Who is this from?”
The man carried the package into the room and leaned it against the wall. “Let me check. He flipped the sheet over and glanced at the bill. “Doesn’t say. Want me to call in and check?”
“No, that’s okay.” She smiled at him and he flipped the pages back.
“Sure thing. Have a good one.”
Summer held open the door and the man hustled out and down the hall. With a deep breath, she turned toward the package.
Her fingers shook as she reached for the masking tape holding the paper shut. She knew what it was and she wished it were anywhere but in her room. Part of her wanted to call the concierge and have it thrown away sight unseen. But the other part of her—the one who knew that underneath that paper was a snapshot of love and wonder and pure fucking magic—couldn’t let it go.
She tore into the paper, ripping it apart bit by bit until all the wrapping fell away. Her little red boat. Bouncing in the waves. Buoyed by the storm. Lit up by the sun. Her heart. Right before everything fell apart.
Summer sunk to the floor at the foot of the painting and sobbed.
* * *
BLAKE
“I’m telling you, we still have a chance.”
“Don’t be an asshat, Devin. You saw her face. It crushed her. We crushed her.” Blake paced back and forth in the empty space above their shop. The space they’d been on the verge of turning into a bar. The space he once thought could be so much more.
“That’s what we said last time, but look what happened. She came back to us. Gave us another chance. She’ll do it again.” Devin stood in the middle of the room where the light hit just right and faint traces of paint still stained the wood floor.
Blake forced down his anger. “How many chances do you think she should give us? A million? More? Accept it. It’s over.”
“I can’t believe you’re giving up. What happened to the whole I’m in love with her bit? Change your mind?”
Blake popped his jaw. “No. But sometimes love isn’t enough. Especially not when the other guy involved won’t be honest.”
Devin spun on his heel. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You know damn well what it means. I told you we should tell her about Mandy. If we’d gotten to her first—if we’d been the ones to tell her instead of that bitch ex of yours…”
“You can’t seriously say that made a difference.”
“Telling the truth? It might have. We’ll never know now, though, will we?”
Devin ran his hands through his hair, tugging at the strands. “Fine. I fucked up. I was wrong. Is that what you wanted? Does that make you feel better?”
Blake exhaled. “No. Fuck.” Everything was so messed up. Blake crouched and rested his head in his hands. “I’m sorry, Devin. I know you were doing what you thought was right.”
Devin walked over to the window. “As long as we’re being completely honest…”
“What?” Blake glanced up, but Devin focused on the floor.
“Summer might have given me a blow job when we were up here together.”
Blake blinked. “When?”
“I came up here and found her painting. It was wild—she had paint in her hair and smeared across her face—she was in the middle that landscape of the Cove with the boat out in the water when I walked in.”
“How’s that lead to her sucking you off?”
Devin winced. “She wanted to. I don’t know. We kind of had a fight. I thought she was picking you over me. She showed me she wasn’t. I should have told you.”
Blake nodded and stood up before walking over to the window. “Was that the painting she was still working on when I came in?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s the best thing she’s ever painted.”
“I know.”
Blake flexed his jaw. “You think she’ll change her mind?”
A woman’s voice answered. “She won’t unless you force her to.”
Blake spun around. “Mandy? What are you doing here?”
Mandy stood in the entryway to the space, hair up in a topknot, wearing white sweats and a pained expression. “I’m trying to salvage my friendship and your future.”
“We tried last night. Summer doesn’t want anything to do with us.”
“Then you haven’t tried hard enough.” Mandy walked in and dumped her purse on the floor. “Look. We screwed up. All three of us. We never should have ended up in bed together when she left the first time. After we did, we should have told her.”
She gave them both a tight smile. “But none of that matters. What matters is that she’s still here and you still have a chance.”
Blake frowned. “Why are you helping us?”
“Because she’s my best friend. And she’s in love with you—both of you.”
Blake curled inward like he’d been punched in the gut.
“She said that?” Hope edged into Devin’s voice.
“Yes, she did. I think she’s been in love with you the whole time. It’s why she never settled down. Never had a boyfriend for longer than a New York minute.”
“Did she tell you she came here and painted?”
Mandy nodded. “Where’s the piece? She wouldn’t stop talking about it before the wedding.”
“We had it delivered to her room. We thought if she saw it…maybe she’d change her mind.”
Mandy’s lips thinned. “The painting’s not going to change her mind. You are. I’m on my way over to see her. I’ll do my best. But I can’t make any promises. You both need to figure out how much you want this and what you’re willing to do to get it.”
She grabbed her purse off the floor and strode to the door. “I’d think big.”
Devin turned to Blake as she walked out the door. “Any ideas?”
Blake nodded. He’d been thinking about it ever since he’d walked in on Summer painting, but he’d assumed it was too late. Too many obstacles.
Now? With everything blown to hell? It was the only chance they had to win her back. He glanced up at Devin. “It’s a long shot. But it just might work.”
* * *
SUMMER
Summer wiped the snot from her face with her sleeve. So much for going out gracefully. One look at the painting and the floodgates had opened. Every last bit of anger and pain and heartache she’d bottled up since the night before poured out of her in a tear-filled, snotty mess.
She grabbed the box of tissues and blew her nose as another knock sounded on the door. You’ve got to be kidding me. What now? She pushed herself up to stand and trudged over.
“Did you forget something?” Summer pulled the door open, but it wasn’t the delivery guy. “Mandy? What?” Summer blinked. “Shouldn’t you be halfway to Tahiti?”
Mandy pushed past Summer and made her way over to the bed. Mrs. Dennison was written in gold script on the back of her white sweatshirt and down the side of her right leg. On any other day, Summer would have laughed. High-fived her best friend. Not today.
“We delayed the flight. I need to talk to you.”
Summer let the door go. It shut with a wham. “You pushed back your honeymoon to talk to me?”
Mandy nodded and sat down.
Wow. Summer walked in and crossed her arms as she leaned against the far wall. “Okay. Talk.”
“I’m sorry. We’re all sorry. I can’t sit here and tell you the days I spent with Blake and Devin didn’t mean anything because that would be a lie.”
Summer snorted.
“But hear me out.” Mandy held up her hands. “It didn’t mean what you think. When you left—we were blindsided. All of us.” Mandy pushed a stray hair off her
face.
“That’s why I called all the time. You were so sad. Distant. Every phone call was like pulling teeth. You’d say a word or two and hang up. I thought I’d lost my best friend.”
“So you slept with the same two guys? Nice.”
“I’m not proud of it.” Mandy glanced down at her hands and picked at a chip in her polish. “We were all so adrift and lonely without you here. Blake and Devin—they were looking for a piece of you anywhere. They’d go down to the beach and stand where you all did. Sit at your favorite table at the restaurant.”
She sighed and slumped further down on the mattress. “We were all there one night, depressed and unhappy and it just happened. We were all looking for you and found each other.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying we were grieving. It wasn’t lust or love or anything like that. It was loss.”
Summer swallowed.
“I’m not proud of it and I know I should have told you. But when I got back to school, you seemed happy. Over them.” Mandy glanced up and Summer could see the pain in her eyes. “I didn’t want to bring it up and only hurt you more.”
Summer pushed off the wall and walked over to the window. She stared out at the ocean and the waves that once held so much promise.
“If you’re still mad at me, I get it. But don’t give up on Blake and Devin. Don’t give up on your dreams. You can still have everything here in Midnight Cove. Even if we aren’t friends anymore.”
Summer palmed the window. The glass fogged with the heat from her skin and she pulled her hand away. The ghost of her fingers stayed behind. “It’s not my dream anymore, Mandy. Those all died last night.”
Mandy pushed herself off the bed and walked over to the painting. She was quiet so long, Summer turned to see if she was still there.
“It’s breathtaking, Summer.”
“It doesn’t matter. It’s not mine.” Summer walked over and tipped the painting toward her. With careless fingers, she tugged the canvas free from the frame one staple at a time. In moments, the whole painting sagged to the floor. Summer bent down and grabbed one edge. She rolled it into a tight tube and stood up.
“Here. Take it.” She held the painting out to Mandy.