Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
I t didn’t take too long to find a parking space, since most weren’t exploring this side of Bayview on a weekday morning. I parallel parked on the street and Sumner practically stumbled out onto the sidewalk, leaning a hand against the roof of my car. I slid from the driver’s seat and dusted a hand down my dress shirt, smoothing out the wrinkles from the drive over.
“I guess we know who’s going to be driving from now on,” Sumner said as I rounded the car. “And it isn’t going to be you.”
“Poor little thing,” I said without affection, chuffing him on the shoulder. With my key fob, I locked the car with a beep. “Come on. Let’s see if I can bribe the staff of Pierre’s to let you in.” It was a doubtful longshot, but my craving for their avocado toast was enough to make me desperate. At the very least, I might’ve even been willing to risk my parents’ wrath and ditch Sumner at the entrance for it.
With my gesture, Sumner began walking down the sidewalk first. Just a half step behind him, I let my eyes travel down to the back of his pants, at the slight curve that stretched the denim material. I wasn’t about to pull my phone out and take a photo, but I could report back to Nancy: he did have a nice tush .
At that exact moment, Sumner looked over his shoulder and found me staring. “Are—are you checking out my butt?”
“Would you be offended if I said yes?”
He immediately fell back the half-step to match my pace, refusing to be a step ahead anymore. He put his hands behind his back. “I’m not sure this is going to work if you’re going to look at my butt.”
“You can look at mine if you’d like.”
Sumner choked a little on the breath he drew in, the tips of his ears growing red. He seemed to blush quite easily.
“If you must know, I’m not looking for me.” I blinked at him, trying to convey my lack of interest—trying to feign my lack of interest. “Someone even asked me to send a picture. Be grateful I’m just looking.”
“ Someone .” He didn’t ask who it was, but just kept his hands behind his back. We walked side by side on the cracked sidewalk. His shoulder brushed the edge of my jacket with each movement. “So, you do have friends?”
“She’s more of a frenemy.” Nancy would’ve concurred with the term.
The tall building Pierre’s sat atop of came into view, and my heart warmed at the sight.
Sumner halted in the middle of the sidewalk. “Can we eat here?” He looked through a window set into a brick building at our left.
I didn’t even look at the restaurant’s sign. “No. ”
“Let’s go to your fancy place when I’m dressed right for it,” he pressed, eyes light as he looked at me. Now that I thought it once, I couldn’t get it out of my head—the only term that came to mind was that it was very much so puppy-like . “Come on, doesn’t diner food sound really good right about now?”
It absolutely did not. Did diner food ever sound good ? Now I did look up at the signage, and O’Hare’s greeted me in lettering that was barely legible. Sumner didn’t know how much of a downgrade it was, ditching Pierre’s in favor of a dingy hole-in-the-wall diner where everything probably tasted of grease.
Being alone is a choice , Nancy had said.
Clearly, because if I’d been alone, I would’ve gone to the rooftop restaurant and enjoyed my avocado toast.
Apparently, though, being alone wasn’t a choice, because before I could refuse a second time, Sumner snagged my wrist and tugged my unwilling feet toward the diner’s door.
“It’ll be good,” Sumner tried to assure as he wrenched the fingerprinted glass door open.
And I wasn’t buying it. “It’ll taste like heartburn.”
While people would’ve stared at Sumner as he entered at Pierre’s wondering if he was the help, this crowd of people gawked at me as we walked in. Some patrons even stopped mid-bite to gape at the overdressed woman who sauntered into the space.
“Sit wherever,” came a disembodied voice from somewhere in the diner, but I was too distracted with the actual prospect. Sit… where? Some tables weren’t even bussed free of dishes, while others had crumbs from leftover customers dotting the surface.
“Let’s take the booth,” Sumner said as he walked toward the table near the window, leaving me to stare with mild horror after him.
My two decades of pushing through to do something when I didn’t want to kicked in, forcing my steps toward him. I stared at the cracked red booth seat for a long moment, ultimately pulling the handkerchief out of my pocket to drape on its surface before sitting. Sumner watched in a way that appeared as if he were fighting a smile.
“Note to self,” I said, staring at a splatter of what looked like gravy dried to the table’s surface. “Do not let Sumner Pennington pick eating establishments.”
“I’ll admit, the atmosphere’s probably different from what you’re used to.” Sumner laughed as he reached for the menus tucked at the end of the table, and he pried them apart with a sticking sound. “But it’s cool to try new places sometimes.”
“Nice? I wouldn’t be surprised to find a cockroach underneath the table.”
A woman in jeans came over to take our drink order. Sumner laid his menu on the table and looked it over while I looked at him. I’d long since grown used to my own company, enjoying meals in solitude. Sumner must’ve felt my eyes on him and looked up, doing a double take at my stare. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking that if I end up with food poisoning, it’s your fault. ”
“Well, I’m thinking about eggs. And bacon—lots of bacon.”
“And I’m thinking about my avocado toast with smoked salmon.” I gave him a flat stare. “If I can’t have what I want, neither can you.”
He took my stubbornness in stride. “Fine, pick the worst item on the menu, and I’ll have that for breakfast.”
“ Brunch .”
“Right. Brunch.”
I doubted this was a place that recognized brunch as a meal, though. Pierre’s had a special menu for brunch, served specifically between eleven and noon. My avocado toast was only available on that menu.
I closed my eyes to will myself to stop thinking about it. Yes, I’d pick the worst meal for him possible from this place—or just let him go hungry.
“Why did you take this job?” I asked him while the waitress took her sweet time coming over, attempting to nonchalantly sit back into the booth. It gave a wheezing creak as I did so. “What was the selling factor that made you put your life on hold for a rich girl who can’t keep herself out of trouble? Was it the fact that they’re letting you live in the hotel?”
“I worked as a secretary at a different company back home,” he said, jumping into my interrogation. “I figured it was a good use of my skills.”
“And my kiss didn’t run you off?”
I didn’t think Sumner would take the question as seriously as he did. The fingers holding onto his menu tensed a little, but I noticed it. Years of training to pick up every minor detail had my mind focusing in on it all. “At the event Saturday. You were standing alone in the corner of the room, looking up at the chandelier, and in a room filled with people, it was like you were the only one in the world.”
A small smirk tugged at my lips. “You fell in love with me at first sight, didn’t you? One kiss and it was over for you?”
Sumner didn’t look amused, and this time, he did not blush at my teasing. “No. I felt sorry for you.”
I felt the traces of my smile disappear from my face.
He redirected his attention to his menu. “I told you that I couldn’t help but think how lonely you looked. That’s why I’m being nice.”
It was strange to hear, because while, in that moment, I’d felt alone, I hadn’t realized it’d been so obvious to anyone who bothered to look. To a complete stranger. Which meant that either no one ever looked closely, or no one cared enough to do anything about it.
Underneath the table, my hand twitched into a loose fist. “So, you’re being nice out of pity?”
“You’re trying to spin it into a negative.”
“No positive is without its negative.”
“That’s a sad thought process, isn’t it?”
It didn’t feel sad. It was right, justified given what environment I’d grown up around in. Even Nancy, with how refreshing she was, wasn’t without her negativity. No positive without a negative. No give without a take.
Being alone is a choice , Nancy had said. It isn’t forced upon you like you think it is .
“It’s easier,” I said, answering his sentence and Nancy’s aloud. “To always assume there’s a negative. ”
Sumner didn’t argue the fact. He looked as if he genuinely thought about it. That was another thing about him that was so different from anyone else around here—he listened when I spoke, digested it. He didn’t give a fake laugh and empty assurances. Even just from seeing him twice, that was one thing about his character I was sure about.
“It doesn’t have to be that way with me,” he said at last. “As your friend, you don’t have to worry about any negatives with my positives.”
“We aren’t friends.”
Sumner held my gaze evenly, unwaveringly, not intimidated in the slightest. “We could be.”
The waitress dropped off our waters, giving us a few more minutes to look over the menu. I hadn’t glanced at the array of foods they offered yet; I hadn’t even picked up the menu. It even looked sticky, as if it hadn’t been wiped down in days. Maybe I could get Sumner to recite some dishes for me so I wouldn’t have to touch it.
“Why…” I began, but trailed to a pause, unable to decipher his answer on my own. “Why do you want to be my friend? Why do you want to be more than just my secretary?”
“It’s like I said.” Sumner reached for his water. “When I first saw you, I couldn’t help but think how lonely you looked. You deserve to have someone around you who isn’t a shadow. Because… because I know what it’s like to feel alone in a room full of people. And no one should feel that way.”
Time, for a moment, seemed to slow as his words wound around in my head. I stared at him from across the booth, my pulse thudding loudly in my ears. If it were anyone else, I would’ve thought he was mocking me in some way, but Sumner seemed so… earnest. And I didn’t know how to feel. I needed to say something, to scoff at his words, but he’d rendered me speechless.
Sumner’s phone gave a little chime, which prompted him to pull it out and check the screen. I watched him while he did so, and took that moment to appraise him in this different—albeit grubbier—light. Although his clothes hinted at a former frat boy, he, admittedly, looked good in the loose shirt that’d been tucked into the band of his jeans. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been around someone who’d worn jeans, at least a pair that wasn’t designer. It gave him a very causal, normal air.
We probably looked funny sitting across from each other like this. I found myself enjoying the juxtaposition. Not that I’d ever admit it aloud.
Sumner pocketed his phone without texting. “If we’re going to be around each other, we might as well know a bit about each other, yeah?” Sumner folded his hands over his menu. “So… tell me something about yourself.”
It was a clear, horrible attempt at a segue, but I allowed him the pass for now, raising an eyebrow. “What do you know about me?” Meaning: what have my parents told you about me?
“You just graduated college a week ago,” he said. “Business administration major. You’re a bit of a social outcast. You have an affinity for suits. You’re engaged—or, well, is that right? I don’t see a ring on your finger.”
I glanced down at my hand as if one would magically appear. “I’m sure I’ll be given some ugly rock, eventually. ”
“But you are engaged?”
“Not technically .” Underneath the table, I began bouncing my foot, and it took me a second to realize I was unconsciously tapping it to the country song’s beat. “That’s why my parents enlisted your babysitting services, because they don’t want me scaring off the world’s best match.”
“What’s he like?” Sumer picked up his water and tucked the straw between his teeth. “Your fiancé?”
I wouldn’t know , I almost said. It wasn’t wholly true, though. I knew bits and pieces about him, things here and there that’d trickled down the gossip mine. “The mysterious sort.”
“Mysterious?”
“I don’t know what he looks like.”
I expected Sumner to have more of a response to this—more surprise, confusion, at the very least, asking more questions—but he just tilted his head to the side. “So, you’ve never met him.”
“A point to Sumner Pennington for his deductive reasoning.” Now it was my turn to pick up my water, though the thought of the most likely unfiltered tap deterred my thirst. I tried not to look too closely at it. “I didn’t know it was possible to be completely digital footprint free in this day and age, but Aaron Astor seems to be the exception.”
“I could say the same about you. You don’t have social media.”
A corner of my mouth tipped up. “You tried to dig up information about me?”
His eyes dropped back to his menu. With how quickly they bounced the surface, I doubted he truly absorbed what he was reading. With a nonchalant voice, he murmured, “Out of curiosity.”
It was true, like Aaron, I kept as much as my life possible off the internet. I wasn’t the extreme as Aaron, though. If one typed my name, or at least my parents’ names, my picture would eventually come up in search. For Aaron, though, it was like he was a ghost. His brother’s pictures came up, along with articles about their investments in the company, but Aaron was never in the lineup with them. He was mentioned by name, but always followed with “ not pictured .”
I debated drawing out teasing Sumner, my foot continuing to bounce. Where was the waitress? “Did my mother give you a bonus for hazard pay yesterday? Play your cards right, and you could walk away from this little job a millionaire yourself.”
“Does that happen often? Your mom paying people off?”
“So, she did pay you.”
“She tried to.” Sumner met my eyes again. “Does she do that a lot?”
“I don’t often go around kissing people, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Just me?”
“Just you.”
Sumner returned to gaze down at his menu, caressing the corner of it with his thumb. I watched his lips press together, but I couldn’t tell with what emotion. Sumner was hard to figure out. There were times that it seemed as if he were laying all of his cards down on the table, and others where it seemed like he held them close. When he seemed transparent, it almost felt as if he were leading me into a false sense of security surety. Or maybe that’s your paranoia talking .
“You have a staring habit, you know,” he said.
“I’m aware.”
Sumner stretched his legs out underneath the table, and my foot, which was mid-bounce, brushed against his pantleg. He yanked his leg away, jerking back into his seat, as if the slight touch had been scandalous. My eyes followed his movement as amusement bubbled within me, and I half-debated on stretching my leg out to find his again, if only to torture him further with the game of footsie.
I finally turned my attention to the sticky menus, scanning. There were no pictures to provide me any insight, though that was most likely a good thing—it could’ve ruined my appetite altogether. The list of items was mostly normal, run-of-the-mill diner food, save for— “Beans on toast.”
“ What ?”
“Beans on toast,” I repeated. “It’s a popular British dish, and exactly how it sounds. Baked beans in tomato sauce on toasted bread.”
The visual in my mind brought about instant revulsion, and it must’ve been the same for Sumner. A line formed between his brows as he frowned—the first time I’d ever seen him do so. “Margot,” he all but whispered. “Not that.”
I couldn’t pinpoint what was strange about him saying my name until I realized he dropped the miss . It solidified my decision more, and I fought off a smile. “If you want to be friends, that’s what you have to order.”
Whether he intentionally gave his puppy dog pleading gaze, I wasn’t sure, but I didn’t budge underneath it. Instead, it just made me smile, though it was small. Sumner’s eyes, much like they had Saturday night, dropped to my mouth. And, much like Saturday night, something in my stomach tightened in response. “Fine.”
I let him order it with a side of bacon strips and hashbrowns—I wasn’t that torturous. I ended up ordering a Belgian waffle, though I’m sure it would taste nothing like the waffles from the country of origin. Anything had to be better than what he got, though.
“I have another question,” I said when the waitress went to relay our order, once more leaving us alone. “When I kissed you, why did you just stand there? Why didn’t you push me away?”
Sumner pressed his lips together again, in a way that looked like he tucked them into his mouth as he did so. “We should…” He cleared his throat. “We should probably forget that happened, okay?”
“And why is that?”
“For plenty of reasons. I’m technically your employee now, for one. We can’t really be friends if we’ve kissed, for two. And for three…” Sumner couldn’t quite look me in the eye; instead, it looked as if he focused on my forehead. “It’s never going to happen again.”
“Ooh.” I leaned back further in my seat, and this time, I did stretch my legs out further. I couldn’t find his underneath the table. “That sounds like a challenge, doesn’t it?”
He didn’t appear amused. “I don’t want to upset Aaron.”
Any of my own amusement vanished. It was funny how a simple name could do that, as if pulling a drain on a sink and letting all the water out.
“I’d hate for it to create a problem for things,” Sumner went on. “Especially when you only did it to prove a point about something.”
I looked out the window at the street, where a car would pass by here and there. If I leaned closer to the glass, I would’ve been able to see Pierre’s from here, or at least the top of the building it resided in. I wished I had gone there instead. Sumner could eat his beans and toast himself. “Why did you do it?” I repeated as if he hadn’t spoken, my voice flatter than before. “Why didn’t you push me away?”
I half expected him to ignore the question a second time, but, reluctantly, he said, “You act like I had time to. It was like you’d been a little kid stealing a kiss behind a slide or something—I barely had any time to react before you were pulling away. Besides… it wasn’t that much of a hardship. A pretty girl kissing me?—”
“You think I’m pretty?”
I’d let far too much surprise seep into my tone than I intended. Sumner’s word choice just didn’t make sense to me, and I didn’t think it’d been a joke either. Pretty . It wasn’t a word anyone had used to describe me, ever. I didn’t wear enough makeup to be pretty, didn’t wear the right clothes to be pretty. I didn’t style my hair or smile enough. I wore men’s clothes and had a poor personality. I wasn’t pretty .
At first, Sumner almost seemed embarrassed, as if he hadn’t meant for the words to slip through, but that morphed into something different the longer we stared at each other. His gaze bounced over my expression, as if gauging the sincerity of my bewilderment. I wondered if he was taking me in—my suit, my hair, my stature—and was changing his mind. Mmm, she’s right , he probably thought. Pretty isn’t the right word .
“God,” Sumner murmured, something in his eyes shifting. “They ate you right up, didn’t they?”
I frowned, because the words were so quiet that it was almost as if he hadn’t meant for them to come out.
Before I had a chance to say anything, though, the waitress returned and laid down our plates, and all thought of our conversation sprinted away in fear. Sumner’s features matched what my face felt like. “No way .”
The plate she’d laid in front of him had to be something they scraped up from the floor. Surely it wasn’t something edible. Surely it wasn’t something people paid to eat. There was a piece of bread buried by reddish-tan colored beans, swimming in some sort of red base. It oozed off the sides of the toasted bread, pooling on the plate. She laid the hashbrowns and bacon down beside it, but I couldn’t look away from his main plate.
A part of me wondered if I’d gone too far, but the other part of me was too entertained.
“How’s everything looking for you?” the waitress asked good-naturedly, ignoring Sumner’s outburst.
“Fantastic,” I answered before Sumner could, picking up my silverware. “Thank you so much.”
“It’s supposed to look like that?” he demanded. The stench of it hit him then, and he jerked back in his seat, squeezing his nose between his finger and thumb. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
I drew my attention away long enough to look at my waffle, which didn’t look as bad as whatever monstrosity donned his plate. At least mine appeared edible. I’d been to England on multiple occasions, though had never experienced the trauma that was beans on toast.
“The price of our friendship isn’t very appetizing, is it?” I murmured as I applied the butter to my waffle, waiting for the mild nausea from the sight of his plate to pass. “You might be better off remaining my secretary.”
Sumner regarded the plate as if it were stewed garbage, no doubt agreeing with me.
I found myself waiting for him to move before taking a bite myself. He’d picked up his own silverware, but didn’t make any move toward the oozing beans. Disappointment trickled in at his hesitation, but I forced it down. “Order something else,” I said, my tone flattening. “And next time, we’ll go to the place I want?—”
In one sharp movement, Sumner stabbed into the beans on toast, scooped it up onto his fork, and shoved the bite into his mouth. I gasped on instinct, bracing myself for him to choke or gag on the taste that no doubt had to mimic its scent. Sumner chewed fearfully, but slowly the grimace on his face blended into a neutral expression.
With a shocked sort of reluctance, he admitted, “It’s actually not bad.”
“Liar.”
“No, truly. It’s weird—the texture is… interesting—bu t it’s not bad.” Sumner cut into another forkful, this time offering the bread and beans to me. “Try it.”
I leaned as far back into my seat as I could. The booth wheezed pitifully. “I’d rather die.”
He popped the forkful into his mouth, lips quirking. “My friend,” he said after he swallowed, covering his mouth with his hand. “His mom would make him beans on toast all the time. I never believed him when he said they were good.”
I felt a little miffed; I didn’t realize he’d heard of it before. “Why do you want to be my friend so badly if you already have one?”
“People can have more than one friend,” he replied patiently. “Besides, he’s on the other side of the country right now. He’s not exactly competing for my time.”
“The other side of the country?”
“I lived in California before coming here.” He scooped up another bite of toast, and before he ate it, he added, “He’s there now.”
“California,” I echoed. It made sense that I knew nothing about Sumner, given we’d only met last night, but the easy way he’d just jumped into being friendly with me had made me forget it hadn’t even been twenty-four hours yet. “How’d you end up on the east coast, then?”
“Short, condensed version? I went to college, double majored in business communications and business finance, worked in that field for a few years, then wanted to try something new.”
“I thought you said you were someone’s secretary before this.”
I hadn’t said it with tact, conditioned to never using it, but Sumner nodded good-naturedly. “I was. I graduated college about… two years ago? Three? I worked as a secretary for a company until I moved here. But it’s funny. Choosing a path just because everyone tells you—it’s never as fulfilling as one you choose for yourself, is it?” He gave his head a little shake, taking another bite. “Not funny ha-ha.”
“Someone chose your path as a secretary for you?”
“In a way.”
I studied him, silent. Unsettled. Attending college, following that path because people had told him to, disliking it in the end. Was he just regurgitating my own life back to me, trying to get on my good side to show that we were so similar? Was he telling the truth? “Being a secretary in California wasn’t fulfilling, so you decided to be a secretary here?”
“It wasn’t the job itself that I didn’t like, I just…” He shrugged. “I just wanted something different.”
“Why here? Why Addison?”
“My friend—the one whose mom makes beans on toast—suggested it,” he answered without missing a beat. “When I talked about wanting a change of pace, he said he knew some people in this area, and directed me here.”
Even as I listened, I couldn’t find a trace of a lie in his words. It didn’t cause me to lower my guard, though. “And that’s how you ended up in Addison.”
Sumner nodded, chewing through his bite. “Working here isn’t a bad gig to help get my feet under me. Gives me time to… find myself, I guess.”
Sumner’s backstory had more meat to it than I’d given him credit for. Going to college, double majoring, getting a job only to abandon it because he wanted something new . Some might’ve said it was reckless, idiotic—my mother would’ve. But I understood him almost as plain as day. If I could’ve abandoned my major, I would’ve. In a heartbeat. Knowing Sumner did… it made me look at him differently.
Sumner spoke of his similar experience with all the self-assurance I’d wanted. I wanted to tell him I was envious that he was trying to find his dream, since I’d let mine be taken from me.
“My fiancé,” I began slowly. “You don’t want to upset him by talking about our kiss, but you think he’d be fine with us being friends?”
“I’m sure he’d be okay with it.”
“How are you so sure?”
“No one would want their fiancé to feel like they’re the last person on earth.” His blue gaze was serious as he watched me, dark lashes sweeping down against his cheekbones in a slow blink. “I wouldn’t want you to feel that way, if I were him.”
Again, it was as if he knew exactly what to say to drain all the thoughts from my mind. He didn’t speak as if he were flirting, but warmth skated over my skin, as if I’d stepped outside into the summer air. To hear him say that he didn’t want me to be alone—to hear someone say that—left me off-kilter. I almost questioned if they were the words he’d truly spoken, or the words I just longed for someone to say. And here he was, not even hesitating before speaking them to me.
No one in the world lowered my guard, not even Nancy. And yet the person across the table from me, with his beans and toast and boyish grin, had me wondering if maybe there was one person in the world I could relax around. One person I could let my guard down for.
Interesting , I decided then. My initial gut feeling had been right. Sumner Pennington was interesting.
Sumner picked up a slice of bacon, but before he brought it to his lips, he paused. “You’re staring again.”
Because I can’t decide if you’re a breath of fresh air or something terrifying .
“You have toast crumbs on the corner of your mouth,” I said to him, returning my attention to my soggy waffle. When I began cutting into it while Sumner wiped at his nonexistent crumbs.