Till Summer Do Us Part(52)

Mika said she needs a nice guy. Well, I’m going to make sure I’m that guy for her.





Scottie walks out of the bathroom in a matching green spandex short and shirt set, her hair wrapped up in a towel and her lotion in hand.

When she spots me sitting in the chair under the nipple picture, she offers me a soft smile.

“I grabbed a quick snack for you and a water,” I say, pointing to the table. “I thought you might want to eat something in case dinner comes with a sideshow again.”

“Thank you,” she says softly as she moves to the seat next to mine. She sets her lotion on the table and then turns toward me.

When she looks up, her walls seem lowered, like she’s allowing herself to be vulnerable—it’s the first time I’ve seen that—and she’s exposed rather than guarded.

“Um, I just want to, uh, I want to apologize about earlier.”

“Apologize for what?” I ask her.

Her eyes meet mine, her blue to my gray, and she says, “About, um, about crying by the lake.”

“Why the hell are you apologizing for that?”

“Because,” she says, raising her chin. “This is…this is a mutual relationship where we are trying to—”

“I’m sorry, Scottie, but I’m going to cut off whatever you’re about to say, because I’m telling you right now, I’m not going to agree with it.” I turn toward her and say, “You don’t need to put on a brave face for me. You don’t need to act like everything is okay. You don’t need to act like you don’t have feelings or emotions. Hell, you don’t need to cry by yourself. I’m here for you. Do you understand that? For you, Scottie. No one else. I’m at this camp, in this cabin, for you. I’m here for no other reason. So you can try to act like this is all business, but I refuse to let you go through what’s clouding your mind by yourself.”

She shakes her head. “Wilder, you don’t have to do that. I’m Mika’s friend—”

“Which means, by extension, you’re my friend.”

She exhales, and I can see her wanting to push me away, but I’m not going to let her. “Please, I don’t want you thinking you need to treat me differently.”

“Treat you differently. How the hell would I treat you differently?”

Her eyes meet mine. “Pity, Wilder. I don’t want your pity.”

“Good, because I’m not offering pity. But I am offering understanding. I’m offering a shoulder to cry on when you need it. I’m offering a listening ear. I’m offering you an opportunity for escapism. I’m offering a reliable friendship.”

Her lips tilt to the side, and she looks away, not saying a damn thing until she sucks in a deep breath and then mouths, “Damn it,” as she starts to cry again.

She dabs at her eyes with the back of her hand, clearly not wanting me to see her cry. But I don’t give a shit. I take her hand in mine, tugging her closer to me, and wrap my arm around her shoulders, bringing her into my side.

And we stay like that for I don’t know how long, her quietly crying and me holding on to her, making sure she knows she’s not alone.

I’ve never been through a hard breakup, or a divorce for that matter, but I’ve seen the toll it takes on a human when they see their loved one slowly slip away. I watched my mom go through it with my dad. Sure, it wasn’t a divorce, but as my dad became weaker, I saw the light dim in my mom’s eyes. I saw her come to the realization that the man she once loved, the man she married, was no longer the same person.

And just like I was there for my mom, I’ll be there for Scottie.

“You okay?” I ask after a few minutes.

“No,” she says, answering honestly, giving me hope that she’s going to open up.

“Want to talk about it?”

“Not really,” she says.

“I understand.” I clear my throat. “But I do want to apologize about today. I thought I was feeding off your energy, trying to show Sanders that we’re a couple in trouble. If I’d known about the divorce, I wouldn’t have—”

“Please don’t apologize,” she says, shaking her head. “You didn’t know. There’s nothing to apologize about. We actually did a good job convincing him. Maybe too good of a job.” She lets out a breath and then lifts her head up. “I think the piercings really threw him for a loop.” She chuckles, which gives me hope.

“I’m pretty sure it’s the first time he’s ever seen a couple fight about that.”

“There’s no doubt in my mind,” she replies.

“And I know I said it before, but I really want to reiterate—us bringing it full circle at the end with the piercings, that was poetic.”

She shakes her head in mirth. “I’ve found that I don’t want to play into your ridiculousness, but I’ll admit, that was a nice touch at the end.”

I chuckle. “See! Isn’t improv fun?”

“No. It’s stressful, and I don’t want to be a part of it anymore.”

“Well, it seems like we have a hole we have to dig ourselves out of for the next seven days.”

“Yeah. Any ideas on how to do that?”

“No clue.”