Seducing Mr. Grumpy

11. She can’t. [Part 1]

Summer Cooper’s message vault to Dominic Pauls:

Heaven posted pictures from the family gathering. Since you weren’t in any of them, I asked my mom about you. She said you’re still as handsome as ever. My dad got upset when I asked about you. I wish I’d been there.

I just miss you,

Summer.

---

11. She can’t.

Dominic.

Summer’s already ahead, biting into the stuffed bagel I bought her. It was supposed to be for when we reached the top of the hill, but no, she was so hungry she couldn’t wait. She’s as impatient as a little kid, and right now, just as happy.

“Walk faster, old man!” she yells over her shoulder.

“I’m only two years older than you!”

“Could’ve been two decades!”

I’d honestly forgotten we were supposed to climb this hill. If I’d remembered, I would’ve chosen a different place—or better yet, kept my mouth shut. But when she was about to leave with that sad look on her face, it was like something took over me. Next thing I knew, I was stopping her. I wonder if I’m getting sick again.

Suddenly, Summer stops, plants her hand on her hip, and looks around with a peaceful expression. I mimic her and am surprised to find this... pleasant. A moment of calm, outside the chaos of the city. The air is cold but clean, and the nature surrounding us brings a sense of peace I haven’t felt in a long time.

I don’t know how long I get lost looking at the surroundings, but when I return to the present, I find Summer’s gaze full of sweetness. And she’s looking at me, not at the landscape around us.

“Come on,” she whispers, holding out her hand to me.

I stare at her outstretched hand for several long seconds, then meet her gaze, unsure of what to do... because I don’t want her to get the wrong idea. This isn’t a date, not even a hangout between friends. It’s just a short lapse in which I threw reason out the window.

Summer seems to read my mind. She rolls her eyes and walks back to grab the sleeve of my coat, pulling me forward. She doesn’t touch me—just the fabric. For someone so small, she’s surprisingly strong. She actually manages to make me move and follow her.

Once our steps are in sync, walking side by side, she lets go of my coat and slides one hand into her cardigan pocket, still munching on her bagel with the other. She glances at me and smiles, quickly looking away when I catch her. I feel the corner of my mouth twitch into a smile, so I turn my face in the opposite direction, looking at the path around us.

“How long has it been since you came here?” she asks, breaking the comfortable silence.

I think about it for a moment, trying to recall.

“I think the last time was with you and your parents,” I say with a laugh. “I remember your dad brought a football, we split into teams, and in the end, my dad and yours got into an argument... again.”

“They’re still the same?”

“The usual,” I reply, kicking a small rock out of the way.

Our fathers are friends, but they’ve always had this rivalry that, as far as I know, started long before we were even born. I don’t know exactly why, but I think it’s just their competitive streaks.

“I miss those weekends, you know?”

“When we all got together?” I ask, and she nods. “Mmm... not much to miss, really.”

Those gatherings aren’t as frequent anymore, but they still happen. I know Summer’s missed a lot of them, but I don’t see what’s worth missing. They always end in chaos. Yelling, laughter, games, people prying into your life. If I had a coin for every time someone’s asked me when I’m getting married, I’d be richer than I already am.

“I was so jealous when my parents sent me pictures of everyone together,” she says wistfully. “You weren’t in any of them.”

Yeah, I usually find a corner at those events, open my laptop, and avoid anyone trying to start a conversation.

When we reach the top of the hill, I head for one of the wooden benches, but Summer walks straight to the grass and drops down happily. I stare at her for a second and wonder why I didn’t see that coming.

She looks over her shoulder and gestures for me to join her, like, What are you waiting for?

Fine.

I drop down beside her and squint toward the horizon until I spot it—the London Eye in the distance. It’s a nice view. I admit that again to myself.

“I don’t get why you never came back,” I say, this time breaking the silence myself.

“What do you mean?”

“Exactly that—I don’t get why you never came back. I get that your job takes you all over, but not coming home for five years? That seems extreme.”

I glance at her when she doesn’t answer. Her expression is a little wistful as she stares at the sky, as if searching for stars.

“Want the truth?” she asks.

“Of course,” I reply.

“I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to leave again,” she says, looking at me briefly before turning her gaze back up to the stars hidden by clouds. “I don’t know if you know, but my parents visited me a lot. They’d stay with me for a whole month sometimes, join me while I worked and traveled. It was amazing. But every time they left, I’d cry for days, and it took me a while to get back on my feet. So I didn’t know what coming home would do to me... if I’d even have the strength to leave again.”

“Then why?” I ask, trying to understand.

“Hmm?”

“Why did you stay away for so long if it made you so sad?”

“I wasn’t sad,” she says softly.

“But you missed being home.”

“I can miss being home and still not want to leave where I am, Nic.” She smiles at me with the same softness she uses in her voice, like she’s explaining something she knows is hard for me to grasp. “Humans are complicated. It’s not all black and white—there’s a whole range of colors in between. So yes, I missed Mom, I missed Dad, I missed being home... but I was also happy. I was doing what I loved, building something for myself, filling my photo album with memories, shaping my own life... I was exactly where I needed to be. I could feel it in my bones. You get that?”

“I’m trying,” I assure her.

And I am. I really am. But it’s hard for me to understand. I don’t get Summer’s need to fly, especially when she seems so attached to her family. But I believe her when she says she was happy... which just makes it harder for me to understand.

Usually, when I want something, I go for it—no regrets, no extra feelings in the way. Everything’s very simple for me. There’s no room or time for anything beyond the goal. Once I reach it, I move on to the next one.

I guess, in the end, it all comes down to this:

Summer is all heart.

And that makes me her opposite.

[1/2]