The Summer I Saved You (The Summer #2)(49)

No, actually, I’m angrier. If he doesn’t want me, that’s fine. If he wants me but refuses to go for it, that’s okay too. But it’s not okay for him to stand in my way simply because it bothers him.

“Of course you should have said yes,” Molly says, signaling to the waiter for our check.

I reach for my credit card. “That’s funny because I don’t see you saying yes to anyone. Those guys who offered to buy us a round, for instance.”

She flicks a hand in the air, dismissing the idea. “I’m offended by the suggestion that I need a man to buy my drinks. I make more money than either of those assholes. But anyway, Caleb, as ridiculously hot as he is, is a dead end. And when you reach a dead end, it won’t do you any good to just sit there, honking your horn.”

I smile. “Is that what you’re doing with Michael? Sitting there honking your horn? Because it seems to me you’re simply idling one street away, hidden from view.”

She narrows her eyes at me. “I’m still working out how best to honk my horn, and Michael is not a dead end. He’s simply a superhot multimillionaire who doesn’t yet realize he’s meant to settle down with me.”

“I can’t believe you’ve been there for two years and I’ve never even seen this guy.”

“Picture Christian Grey, but smarter and better looking.”

I bite my lip. “Guys like Christian Grey only settle down in books, Molly. Real-life Christian Greys marry a model and cheat on her until they’re ready to marry a new model.”

“I believe you’re describing your father,” she says, “and Michael isn’t like that.”

I worry that he’s just a story she tells herself because it’s easier than risking something in real life, but there’s not much I can say. Especially when Caleb may just be a story I’m telling myself too.

We leave the bar in our sexy dresses without having said much to anyone but our waiter.

It’s pouring rain outside, lightning flashing through the sky so close that we both scream as we run to the car.

“This was stupid,” Molly says, cranking the heat once we’re inside.

“Going out in this weather?”

She shakes her head. “Going out at all. You’re in as deep as I am. Neither of us wanted to meet anyone.”

Yeah. And I’m not sure how we move past it.

I navigate around broken tree limbs the whole way to Molly’s condo and wait until she’s safely inside before I turn back toward the lake—where every light in the neighborhood is out. I want a hot shower in the worst way, but I’m not taking one by candlelight in an otherwise empty house.

I run inside, using my phone’s flashlight to make my way to the kitchen. I’ve just located a candle and matches when a knock on the door makes me jump.

That knock is so much creepier with the power out than it would be otherwise.

I struggle to get the candle lit and the knocking starts up again, louder and more impatient.

When I reach the door and look through the peephole, I discover Caleb standing in the pouring rain with his arms folded across his chest. He isn’t forgiven, but I’m also not going to leave him out there getting soaked. I open the door and move aside to let him in.

“I saw your car pull up,” he says, pushing his hair off his forehead. His eyes fall to my dress. “I was just checking to make sure you guys didn’t need anything.”

It was sweet of him to check. I’m already softening against my will.

“The kids are gone,” I reply.

His eyes go back to the dress. “Were you on a date?”

Scratch that. I am no longer softening.

“Instead of asking about dates, you should be apologizing for this afternoon.”

His eyes narrow. “Apologizing? Why the fuck would I apologize? I’m doing my best to let you go after your fairy tale and you’re...throwing it in my face.”

I let my head fall to the wall behind me. “I was walking back from the deli, for God’s sake. How is that throwing anything in your face?”

His jaw locks. His eyes drift over me again. “Was it a date or not? Based on the dress, I assume you’ve got the garter thing on under there.”

“Don’t you wish you knew?” I ask bitterly.

“Yeah,” he says, stepping close. “I do.”

He’s so near that all I can see without craning my neck is the uneven rise and fall of his chest. I want—more than I’ve ever wanted anything—to simply ignore how fucked up and pointless this is. I want to pull him upstairs and pretend that it will somehow be okay. But it won’t. I’ve been miserable, barely hanging on, and I’ve got two children who need all of me and not some sad shell feigning happiness.

“Caleb, I can’t do this,” I whisper. “It’s too hard to get over you and I don’t want to start back where I was a week ago.”

“I don’t want you to get over me.” He moves closer, until his body is pressed to mine, his breath rustling my hair. His skin is damp from the rain, but he is warm and solid and the smell of his soap makes it hard to focus. “Because I already know I can’t get over you. Believe me—I’ve tried.”

I swallow hard and shake my head. “I—”

“I want this. I want it too much not to ask you to give me a chance. I don’t know that I’ll ever be what you guys need, but...please let me fucking try.”