Since Last Summer

  “And he said that he’d like to stop pretending, too. It sounds like it’s just as painful to him to live this lie as it is to all of us.”

  “Before you give me a lecture on ethics, Isabel,” her mother said, “I’ll have you know that the secret is out. Thanks to you and Kelly Quinlan. I saw her at the club. When she asked me if it was true—if we were getting separated—I said yes. So it’s done. It’s out. I hope you’re happy.” Her mother shook her wet hair back behind her shoulders and fixed her daughter with a warlike glare. “So, you see, it’s all done. I’ve given in. Everyone’s going to hear about it. If they haven’t already.”

  “She already knew. She’d heard a rumor that Dad was living there, and I confirmed it.”

  “The point is, you can stop feeling victimized now, Isabel,” her mother said. “Everything’s out in the open. Everyone’s going to know that we’re getting a divorce. I’ll have to cancel at least ten engagements that we had planned. And in about three days I’m going to be the subject of more Schadenfreude than you’ve ever seen in your life.” She reached for a bottle of eye cream on the counter.

  “Well, not everything’s out,” Isabel said. “You still have to tell the family about Mr. Knox.”

  “I’ve been through enough for one week, don’t you think?”

  Isabel was quiet for a moment. “Right,” she said. “Because this is all about you.”

  “I’m still your mother. I still deserve some respect. Even though I know you don’t think so.” She stood up and brushed past Isabel out of the bathroom, then barricaded herself behind the doors of her walk-in closet.

  Isabel looked at herself in the mirror. She was only eighteen, but she felt a decade older. She walked up to the closet doors. “Mom?”

  There was no response.

  “You’re not in there taking a bunch of Celexa, are you?”

  There was still no response.

  “I know I’ve been hard on you. I don’t mean to be. I think what you did at the club sounds really brave.”

  There was still no response. She palmed the door and then stepped away. “I know we’ll get through this,” she said.

  Whatever her mother was doing in there, she seemed to want Isabel to go away. For the first time in a long, long while, Isabel left wishing she’d said she was sorry.

  On Monday morning, Rory arrived a few minutes late to find a Post-it stuck on her computer monitor.

  RORY, PLEASE SEE ME IN MY OFFICE. NINA

  Rory dropped her bag on the chair. Something about this didn’t seem good. “Amelia?” she called out.

  There was no answer.

  Rory peeked over the partition. Amelia’s chair was empty.

  “Well, better get this over with,” she muttered, and turned to head toward Nina’s office.

  Nina gestured her inside through the glass.

  “Good morning,” Rory said. “You wanted to see me?”

  “Good morning,” she said flatly, sipping from a takeout cup of coffee. “I hope you had a good weekend.”

  “I did. Did you?”

  “It was fine.” She crossed her legs and flicked a piece of dust off the desk. “I received a voice mail from Lucy Rule. Saying how sorry she was, but she and her husband won’t be able to attend the gala after all. That other plans came up.” She folded her arms and gave Rory a dark look.

  “Oh,” Rory said. “I really don’t know anything about it.”

  “You don’t?” Nina said. “I thought you were living there.”

  “I am, but they don’t let me in on their social calendar.”

  “The fund-raising committee is very disappointed, to say the least. And I am, too. We were all very happy about this. And you gave us the impression that this was something they were interested in.”

  “I don’t know what to tell you,” she said, trying not to sound nervous. “I guess they can’t make it.”

  “Well, in light of this, we’ve had to shuffle some things around a bit,” Nina said. “Amelia’s short will no longer be in the festival. I just let her know.”

  “But why?” Rory asked. “What did she do?”

  “Nothing,” Nina said blithely. “That’s how things go sometimes. People change their minds.”

  “I understand,” Rory said, smiling as tightly as possible.

  “So that’s all,” Nina said. “I just wanted you to be aware. And when you have a moment, could you get me a fresh one of these?” she said, holding up her coffee cup.

  “Sure,” Rory said, biting her lip.

  “Great. You can close the door on the way out.”

  Rory walked back to her desk, feeling sick. Hopefully Amelia wouldn’t be crushed, though she probably would be.

  Amelia was back at her desk, writing an e-mail, when Rory returned. “Hey,” she said.

  “Yeah?” Amelia said without turning around.

  “I just spoke to Nina,” Rory said. “She told me the news. I’m so sorry.”

  Amelia swiveled around. “Yeah. If I’d known everything hinged on your boyfriend’s parents, I wouldn’t have done it.”

  “I didn’t think it hinged on them,” Rory said, feeling her face start to get red.

  “Right. Of course you didn’t,” Amelia shot back. “I didn’t need you to do me any favors, you know. I was fine on my own.” She turned back around to her computer. “Now I have to write my family and tell them I’ve been kicked out of the festival. For logistical reasons, or some such BS.”

  “This has nothing to do with either of us,” Rory said. “They’re the ones who are being totally shallow and petty.”

  “They’ve been kissing your ass this whole summer,” Amelia said. “You should have seen this coming.”

  “That’s not fair,” Rory said. “This isn’t my fault, okay?” She threw herself into her chair and turned on her computer.

  A few minutes later, Amelia wheeled herself in sight. “Sorry,” she said, her face contrite. “It’s my third pointless internship. I was hoping this one might be different. I didn’t mean to take it out on you.” She pushed her glasses up her nose. “You want to get lunch later? Plot everyone’s undoing?”

  “I need to run out and get coffee for Nina.”

  “Screw that,” Amelia said. “She can get it herself.”

  “I really am sorry about your family.”

  “That’s okay. I suppose I should have seen what was going on. I guess I wanted to believe that they really thought I was talented.”

  “You are talented, okay? This has nothing to do with you.”

  Amelia held up her hand for a high five. “You need anything, you call me, okay? High five.”

  “High five,” Rory said, trying to smile as she slapped her hand.

  When Rory drove home that afternoon, she spotted Connor’s Audi parked in the drive. Her heart lifted unexpectedly—she didn’t realize how much she’d missed him. Or how anxious she’d been that he not still be mad at her.

  She found Connor in the kitchen, eating some leftover salad and watching the tennis channel. “Hi,” she said. “How are you?” It had been just over a week since the last time she’d seen him, and now she couldn’t help but feel happy to talk to him again.

  “Oh, hey,” he said vaguely. “Good to see you.”

  “How’s it going?” she asked, pouring herself a glass of water. “Is everything good at your dad’s house?”

  “Yup,” he said, his eyes on the TV screen. It was obvious that he was still mad at her. “I stopped by to grab some more clothes.”

  She sat down across from him. “Are you okay?” she said.

  “I’m fine,” he said blankly. His gaze stayed riveted on the flat screen.

  “Connor, don’t ignore me.”

  “I’m not,” he said. “I’m just watching this.”

  Rory pulled her purse off her shoulder and dropped it on a chair. “I hope we can still be friends.”

  “Sure,” he said in a noncommittal voice.

  “Connor, I’m sorr
y. I thought it was something you should know.”

  “That’s fine,” he said. “And now that I know, I’m sure you feel better, right?”

  She stood up and grabbed her purse. “Forget it. I’ll talk to you later.” She pushed through the swinging door. Connor didn’t chase or call after her. She needed to see Isabel. Isabel would help her deal with this.

  She ran up the stairs to Isabel’s room and banged on the door.

  “Come in!” Isabel yelled.

  Rory opened the door. “Connor’s here,” she said. “And he won’t talk to me.”

  Isabel sat on her bed wearing her bikini and a loose cotton tunic. “So?” she said. “He’s a guy holding a grudge. He’ll get over it.”

  “I have had the worst day,” Rory said, collapsing into a chair. “Your parents aren’t coming to the opening night of the festival, and my boss freaked. And to punish me for it, they screwed the other intern out of showing her film at the festival. Because I recommended it.”

  “That doesn’t sound like your fault at all,” Isabel said.

  “Maybe not, but I still have a guilt hangover. Not fun.”

  “They never are.”

  “Can I use your bathroom? I literally just walked in from work.”

  “Sure.”

  Rory flung her bag on the floor, not noticing that the contents spilled out of it onto the carpet.

  Isabel opened her laptop. Once again, she began reading the e-mail from Mr. Knox. The one that she’d been waiting for all summer.

  Dear Isabel,

  I’m sorry that it’s taken me this long to get back to you. Production on this film has taken me to three different cities and two different continents since I saw you last. I hope things are going better by now. Just hang in there. And remember to have fun! Only one more month of summer.

  Peter

  So there it was, she thought. Not exactly the big bonding e-mail she’d been hoping for. Maybe she should take her dad up on his offer of dinner. It couldn’t hurt.…

  Suddenly there was the tinny sound of a few bars of the Beatles. “Nowhere Man.” It was Rory’s ringtone. Then the chime of a text came through. Isabel stood up and found Rory’s phone on the floor, near her bag. The name on the screen made her freeze in her tracks.

  EVAN

  Slowly, her eyes drifted down to the message below.

  Hey, when can I see you again? I miss you. E.

  Isabel’s eyes glazed over as she read the words. They stopped having meaning, they stopped being words, but still she read them, over and over. Evan. Rory. They’d seen each other. Rory was the person he had feelings for.

  Rory was the reason he’d broken up with her.

  Rory.

  Rory.

  A wave of nausea overtook her and began to creep up her throat.

  Behind her, the bathroom door opened, but Isabel barely heard it.

  “Isabel?” Rory asked. “What’s wrong?”

  The sight of Rory standing there with an innocent look on her face made Isabel’s head spin. “Are you hooking up with Evan?” she asked.

  Rory seemed about object, until she looked down and saw the cell phone in Isabel’s hand.

  “Are you?” Isabel pressed.

  “Y-yes,” Rory stammered. “But I can explain—”

  Isabel tossed the phone on the bed. “When were you going to tell me this? Or were you not going to tell me at all?”

  Rory didn’t move, except for her lips, which made small, ineffectual attempts at an answer. “I was going to tell you,” she finally said. “I promise I was.”

  “When? Are you the reason he dumped me?”

  “No… and we didn’t hook up while you guys were together,” Rory said.

  “What?”

  “Yes, there were sparks between us, but I told him not to break up with you. I swear to God, I did.”

  “Oh my god,” Isabel said, turning away from her.

  “And from what you said, the other day, it didn’t even sound like you were that upset—”

  “So that makes it okay for you to go hook up with him behind my back the minute we’re not together?” Isabel asked. “I can’t believe I trusted you. I can’t believe I invited you into my home again. All you do is keep things from me. Like last year, hooking up with my brother and hiding it from me. I thought that was bad. Now you go after my boyfriend the second we’re not together. What is this? Are you obsessed with me or something?”

  “Isabel,” Rory said, trying to stay calm. “It all just happened. I’m so sorry. We’ve only hung out once. That’s it. Nothing has even begun—”

  “Honestly? You’re worse than Thayer and Darwin,” Isabel said. “At least I always knew where I stood with them. You? You’re worse. You pretend to be my friend. Only to then sabotage my first relationship in a year.”

  “I didn’t sabotage it, I swear to God,” Rory said. “You have to believe me. I didn’t. I told him not to break up with you. I did.”

  “Don’t take pity on me,” Isabel said. “I want you out of this house. I’ve had it. I want you to go.”

  Rory looked stricken, as if she might burst into tears. “Now?” Rory asked.

  “Yeah, now.”

  “It just happened. And you told me yourself, you weren’t in love with the guy. That you still have feelings for Mike—”

  “Don’t even go there. It’s not going to help your case. Not at all.” Isabel walked to the door. “I feel really sorry for you. I’m not the only one who pushes people away.”

  She ran out of her room and down the stairs. She needed to get out of this house. She couldn’t think, she couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t even see straight anymore because of the angry tears filling her eyes.

  Fool me once, shame on you, she thought. Fool me twice, shame on me.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  The sun was setting when Isabel reached the unpaved back road that led to Mike’s house. Her stomach growled. Hopefully Mike had some food. And hopefully, he still lived there. She hadn’t asked the guy at the surf shop if Mike had moved, since she didn’t want to look like too much of a stalker. But she had a strange feeling that he hadn’t. She slowed down as she came upon his driveway, then turned in, shading her eyes from the fading sun.

  When she saw the house, she wondered if she’d guessed wrong. Mike couldn’t still live here, she thought. It looked too good. Someone had given it a fresh coat of white paint and fixed the screen door. The sloppy pile of mail and circulars had been replaced by a bright, colorful mat. The Christmas lights were gone. Even the lawn looked greener and less overgrown with weeds. But one look at the Xterra in the driveway let her know that she’d been right. Mike still lived here, and he was home.

  She stuck her feet in her flip-flops, then bravely got out of the car. The anger she’d felt earlier had faded, but the adrenaline was still there, pushing her forward. She had no planned speech. No opening line. Just simple, bare need.

  She walked up the steps, pulled open the screen door, and knocked on the wooden door. Nothing. No sound. She knocked again, louder this time. Finally she heard someone turn the knob from inside the house. The door creaked open, and Mike stood on the steps, looking sleepy and relaxed, as if she’d just woken him up.

  “Hey,” he said.

  “Hi,” she said.

  He rubbed his eyes. “What are you doing here?”

  “I came to say sorry about that text,” she said. “And storming out of the shop. I know that was rude. And lame. I was just angry.”

  “It’s okay,” he said. “Is that why you came all this way? Just to say that?”

  She shook her head and took a step toward him. He pulled her into his arms. The kiss was explosive, unleashing something long pent-up in both of them. He pulled her inside the house, pushing the door shut behind her with his free hand. She yanked his T-shirt up and over his head, feeling his warm skin, his six-pack, the hard, smooth surface of his chest that she’d thought about so many times. He held her tightly, his back
against the wall, and kissed her all over her face and her neck, then pulled the tunic up over her head to continue kissing her all the way down her chest. His hand cradled the back of her head as he returned to her lips, kissing her hungrily, so hard that she felt his teeth bite into her lips, and then it traveled down her back, to the knot of her bikini top that he slowly untied.

  Together they moved, still kissing, down the hall, just as they had so many times last summer, back to the same room that she remembered so well.

  “I missed you,” he whispered in her ear, and all she could do was smile, close her eyes, and know that she was exactly where she belonged.

  Hours, or maybe days, later—she didn’t know—she opened her eyes. The only light in the room was from a lone votive candle on the bedside. It flickered in the breeze coming through the open window. Mike lay beside her, sleeping deeply, turned toward her on his side so that his face rested on her shoulder and his arm hooked around hers. There wasn’t a sound, except for the pulse of crickets in the dark outside.

  There was no clock in the room, and she’d taken off her watch back at home. For a moment she wondered if Rory had left the house already and where she’d gone, but this wasn’t the time to think about that. She could think about it later. For now, she wanted to enjoy this moment.

  Mike stirred next to her, moaning softly, and she turned to him, pressing her lips into his hair. God, he’s beautiful, she thought, looking at his tan arms and chest. How much she’d missed him. How overdue this had all been. How good it felt to be back in his arms, in his bed, in this house.

  She turned even more onto her side, and Mike opened his eyes. Delicately, she stroked his arm with her fingers. He smiled, looking into her eyes. “What time is it?” he asked.

  “No clue. And I don’t really care.” She kissed his forehead and then the tip of his nose.

  “You’ve gotten even more beautiful,” he said, touching her cheek. “I didn’t think that was possible.”

  “Enough with the flattery,” she said. “I might start to believe it.”

  Mike propped his head up and looked around the room. Then he grabbed his watch from the windowsill. “It’s almost nine,” he said. “I’m supposed to meet some people right now.”