Seducing Mr. Grumpy

18. Denial. [Part 1]

Summer Cooper’s message vault to Dominic Pauls:

Heaven told me you're sick, they even had to hook you up to an IV. Apparently, you work so much you forget to eat.

I can come and be by your side to take care of you, all you have to do is ask.

Sincerely,

A very worried Summer.

---

18. Denial.

Dominic.

"You didn’t have to buy anything for my mother," I say to Summer, driving toward the house I grew up in.

"I wanted to," she smiles, sniffing the white lilies in her hands.

I meet her eyes for a brief moment, but we both look away just as quickly. Even though she’s still the same with me, there’s a strange feeling hanging between us. It’s not discomfort or irritation, more like uncertainty—like sometimes we don’t know how to act around each other. That bothers me, and it’s been putting me in a foul mood these past few days.

Even if it’s just a little, I hate that things have changed between us. What I hate most is this shyness that clings to her now. It’s not obvious, and if I weren’t so observant, I probably wouldn’t even notice. But I do. I see it in the way she holds back on little gestures of affection or the way she gets lost in her thoughts for seconds too long, like she’s weighing something that keeps her up at night.

If I’m honest with myself, it all comes down to this: I hate feeling like I’ve lost a part of her, no matter how small that part might be.

I haven’t even let myself think about what almost happened that night on the couch. I don’t want to. I just want her to go back to being my Summer.

"What if I leave work early tomorrow and help you shoot a new video? Are you still thinking about filming from home?"

Summer instantly lights up. She turns a bit more toward me and nods eagerly.

"I’ve been thinking about a few recipes. What if I start with your dulce de leche muffin?"

"No," I refuse immediately.

"Why not?"

Because no. That’s mine, and she wants to share it with millions of people?

Hell no.

"Try the tartlet you brought me to the office that one time—show off something you’ve learned."

"You’re probably right," she presses her lips together, thinking to herself. "After all, I’ve been making that muffin since I was a kid. It’d be good to try the tartlet again and practice the recipe. It makes more sense, right?"

I grunt in agreement, turning onto another street.

"This is the first time I’ve seen you drive a car," she says.

"It’s Sunday. Dallas’s day off."

"You’re good at it," she looks out the window for a moment, then back at me. "Are you excited to see your parents? When was the last time?"

"Six months ago. As for the excitement…" I grimace.

She laughs.

"You’re not excited?"

"Don’t get me wrong, I love them," I say, reluctantly getting the last word out, "but I’m pretty independent from them. The company takes up a lot of my time, and my mom can be… intense."

"I understand her. You forget to eat because of work."

"I can take care of myself. But you and her…" I shake my head.

"Love takes care, Nic. You know that?"

Her words hit me hard—not just because of how true they are, but because of how naturally she says them. Like admitting she loves me is the easiest thing in the world. Like it’s always been there, a feeling so normal for her because she’s known it all her life… and that’s it. I understand now.

Summer has loved me since she was a little girl.

I swallow the lump in my throat.

"And you?"

"If I’m excited to see my parents?" she clarifies.

"Yeah."

"I saw them just over two months ago. They came to visit after what happened with…" she doesn’t need to finish. I understand.

"But I thought they didn’t know everything. If they were with you, wouldn’t they have found out too?"

"Oh no, I told them part of what happened a week later, once everything was settled and that man was in jail. As soon as all the police stuff was done, I went to stay with Nela in Norway. When I got settled there, I told them. Mom and Dad came right away. They stayed with me a few days, but went back to Wolverhampton when the deal to sell my dad’s company sped up. Also, I had to meet with my agent to talk about the break I was taking..."

She keeps talking, but I get stuck on what she said—she told them a week later.

A week later?

I feel my hands gripping the steering wheel tighter, a growing discomfort beginning to roar through my veins. Because everything she just told me comes down to this: she dealt with the police, the questioning, and all the legal matters on her own. And not only was she alone—she had just been assaulted, carrying fresh trauma.

I can’t even begin to imagine the emotional state she must’ve been in back then.

I can’t wrap my head around the fact that she…

"I can’t believe you," I cut her off.

"Hmm?"

"Jesus, Summer, I can’t believe you’re still so damn set on doing everything by yourself."

"Nic…"

"A week!" I explode because I have to. "A whole f*****g week!"

And because there’s still a shred of common sense left in me, I pull over to the side of the road, hoping to calm myself down— but I can’t.

I just can’t.

"Why are we stopping on the side of the road?"

I close my eyes and lean back in my seat. I can’t even look at her.

"You dealt with the police by yourself in a foreign country?"

"Who else was going to if not me?"

She did. She dealt with the police on her own. She dealt with everything on her own.

"A week?"

"Dominic, you’re repeating yourself."

“I just can’t believe it.” I turn to face her, the rage still burning hot inside me.

“I bet your parents went back home because you pretended to be fine the entire time. Because I know them— they wouldn’t have left you alone, not even for a single day, if they had known how wrecked you were after everything that bastard did to you. And it’s not okay, what you do. Hiding your pain. Thinking you don’t need anyone. Dealing with it all on your own like that! You should’ve asked for help! You should’ve leaned on someone, Summer!”

By the end of it, I’m breathing hard, my chest rising and falling erratically with how wound up I am. And she’s just sitting there, silent, tears in her eyes—tears I don’t understand until she whispers, barely audible:

"But I did."

Like a bucket of ice water, all the heat drains from my body, leaving me cold.

Something really bad happened, can you call me?

Please, Nic.

She did look for help. She came to me.

And I didn’t answer. I never did.

Has anyone ever hated themselves more than I do right now?

Suddenly, I can’t breathe the same air as her—it doesn’t feel right. I open the door and get out. I move to the back of the car, crouching slightly to get some air and trying to steady my racing heart…

And it hurts. Goddamn it, it actually hurts. I’ve never felt pain in my heart before, but this… this is pain.

What is she doing to me?

It takes me a long while to calm down. I glance back at the car where Summer waits and try to pull myself together. I’m grateful she stayed inside, I needed this space to calm down, and having her close only makes this feeling of… something worse.

I run a hand over my mouth a couple of times, take a deep breath, and get back in the car.

Summer discreetly wipes away a tear, hiding it from me, which makes me feel infinitely worse. The silence that settles once I get behind the wheel is… painful, f**k.

"Summer, I—"

"Just drive, Nic. We’re already late."

I swallow hard at the softness in her voice—no resentment, no hatred, no reproach, just her… and meanwhile, I feel like I can’t live with myself.

"Summer…"

"Please, Nic."

I have to suppress a shudder at the way those words gut me. My eyes close, and my face contorts in pain—because that’s all I feel now.

Goddamn it.

I start the car again. I do as she says, and drive us away.

[...]

My mother’s arms around me feel soft. Her sweet scent makes me close my eyes for a second, and I find myself hugging her back, holding on just a little longer than usual.

"Oh, Dom," she says, cupping my cheek.

"Mother," I reply.

"Did you eat well while I was gone?"

Of course, that’s the first thing she says.

"Summer can answer that."

She laughs beside me.

"He ate well, Mrs. Pauls."

"Faith," my mom corrects her. She hates being called that.

"Faith," Summer yields.

"That’s better," she smiles. "So, you’ve been taking care of my boy?"

"Mom…" I groan.

"He’s not easy to take care of," Summer says playfully.

"Tell me about it—twenty-five years out and nine months in the womb. I thought Heaven would be the troublemaker, but it turned out to be him."

"Are you talking about me?"

My sister appears, hugging my dad around the waist.

"I was saying you didn’t turn out to be the hurricane I expected," my mom tells her.

"Don’t celebrate too soon—she’s only twenty-five," my dad chimes in.

"Oh God, Dad, I’m a saint. I never cause trouble."

"Mmm," Dad doesn’t look too convinced. "Don’t make me remember things from the past—we swore your mother would never find out."

"And what exactly are you two talking about now?"

"Mom, he was just joking," Heaven tries to cover it with a laugh.

But he wasn’t. My dad and I have saved her from a lot. It’s a long list: drunk driving, getting stuck at a frat house, investing in shady businesses, even stealing someone else’s dog. Keeping all that from our mom has been a challenge—we’ve always tried to shield her from stress… but yeah, my sister is a category-five hurricane.

"What’s your father talking about, Heaven?" Mom narrows her eyes.

My sister glares at my dad, who just shrugs innocently.

"You're the worst, Dad!" She storms off, and my mom rushes after her.

"Heaven! Come back here and tell me what the hell your father was talking about!"

[1/3]