16. Supporting Summer. [Part 2]
1167 Words
“You guys sold almost everything,” I say.
“A bunch of Summer’s fans showed up,” George, the nosy one, tells me. “Most of it was thanks to her.”
“Don’t exaggerate,” she blushes.
“You posed for like a thousand photos today, Sum.”
Sum?
“You’ll pose for one more,” I tell her, because I have no interest in talking to him. “Stand over there—we need to remember this.”
“Seriously, Nic?” she whispers, stunned.
I wonder what in my words hit her so hard. I just asked for a picture, what’s so special about that? Why is she suddenly looking at me like I offered her the moon?
I swallow hard, scratching at my chest when a strange ache hits me.
“Go on and smile, baby.”
Summer eagerly does what I ask, and I gesture for George and Maggie to step out of the frame. They’re not thrilled about it, but I couldn’t care less—I don’t want them on my phone. I take a few pictures of Summer, focusing especially on her smile and her happiness.
“Done,” I whisper, staring at the final photo. In my opinion, she looks happier than she did in that Coachella pic—her eyes brighter now than when they sparkled for Harry Styles.
“One more,” she says, coming to my side. She grabs my phone, presses her lips to my cheek, and the shutter clicks—capturing the moment.
I watch silently as Summer sends the pictures to herself, then sets our photo as my phone’s wallpaper. She smiles at the result and gives me those puppy eyes, begging me not to change it.
I start to shake my head because that’s a pretty cheesy move—not my style at all—but then she says, “Please, Nic.”
And then… I give in to her.
|...|
I eat my trifle while I wait for her to finish selling the last few things. It’s fun watching her interact with people, especially her fans. They’re sweet with her—several give her small gifts, like bracelets, necklaces, even a pair of sneakers—and she gives them her love in return. Summer seems to have enough love for everyone. It’s like she carries an unlimited supply of it, which is frankly disconcerting.
“Did you guys have a good time in Dubai?” Maggie asks, standing beside me.
“It was fine,” I nod.
“She came back different, you know?”
“Hmm?”
“Summer came back… happier.”
I nod, not knowing what to say.
“That’s a powerful thing you’ve got there, Dominic.”
The woman looks at me with such seriousness, and I have no idea what she means.
“I don’t think I understand you.”
“To have that much influence over someone’s mood—it’s something with immense value and weight,” she says, her eyes turning to Summer with a motherly smile. “It’s a power that can bring great joy… but it can also destroy like nothing else.”
She speaks with the kind of wisdom only a woman her age could have, but I still don’t get it.
“I don’t understand your riddles.”
She smiles at me, pats my shoulder affectionately, and walks over to her grandson, who is doing calculations at the register.
I frown, distracted by her words, so I jump slightly when Summer sneaks up behind me, wrapping her arms around my neck, burying her face in my hair. She’s so affectionate, she always surprises me with what she does, I still can’t get used to it. She seems so comfortable with me, and I don’t understand why.
“I’m so tired,” she rests her head on my back.
“Want to go home?”
“Yes, please.”
I nod, set my empty trifle container aside, and take advantage of our position to slip my arms behind her knees and lift her onto my back. I stand up, and the way she’s clinging to my neck tightens a bit too much, but she senses it and adjusts herself, until her cheek is practically resting against mine.
She’s light—her soft body warm against mine and easy to carry. Summer is small in every way… except in bravery and inner strength. That, she has in spades.
Maggie hands me the bags with Summer’s gifts and waves us off, which I return with a nod. I don’t even glance at George—I don’t care whether he says goodbye or not.
Dallas opens the car door when he sees me approaching. He takes the bags from my hand, and I gently place Summer in the back seat. As soon as I slide in next to her, she rests her head on my thighs and drifts back to sleep.
I witnessed how she barely slept while preparing the trifles, and I’m sure the excitement over the event kept her up for the rest of the night. I’m not surprised she’s exhausted—what surprises me is her hard work and dedication. Summer is passionate about everything she does. She’s anything but lazy, which is the complete opposite of what I used to assume about her.
I lift my hand, hesitating, unsure what to do with it, until I finally decide to brush her hair back, moving the soft strands away from her face.
Her hair is long and chestnut brown, lighter in some spots—not from dye, but from the sun. I guess she’s been to a lot of warm places… places as warm as she is.
“Nic, I think today you’ll actually be able to work in peace at your desk. I’m too tired, so this butterfly won’t be fluttering around you,” she says, her voice hoarse with sleep.
“Thank God,” I pretend to sigh with relief.
She pinches my side.
“You’ll miss me when I’m gone.”
“I’ll throw a party to celebrate your departure,” I trace her eyebrow with my finger, watching her smile spread.
“You’ll call me every day to make sure I’m okay.”
“I won’t even remember your name.”
“Liar. You’ll wonder every five seconds what I’m doing.”
“Every five years, maybe.”
She opens her eyes, grabs my hand, and kisses the inside of it. Instinctively, I cradle her face, and she leans into my touch with a contented sigh. Her lips are warm and damp against my skin—especially when she gives me another soft kiss.
“You’ll miss your life with me, I know it.”
“I’ll miss your dulce de leche muffin, that’s all.”
“Liar.”
I laugh. Her eyes drift closed again, and she keeps clinging to my hand like her life depends on it.
And I… I just let her.
[2/2]
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