19. Show, Don’t Tell
19
SHOW, DON’T TELL
SUMMER
S ix months after we had sex, we moved in together.
I didn’t want to leave Fremont, but my apartment was too small—it had only one bedroom—and Basil needed a home office. I also didn’t want to live in a luxury high-rise because that wasn’t who I was.
So, we compromised.
We found a charming craftsman-style bungalow nestled on a quiet, tree-lined street in Fremont, just a few blocks from Sage & Sunflower. It had everything we needed—a spacious home office for Basil, a space for me to make candles and other crafts, and a nice little backyard where I was determined to start an herb garden, which I was very excited about.
The front porch had a swing, perfect for lazy Sunday mornings with coffee. Inside, the house had exposed beams, a fireplace, and just enough quirks to make it feel homey. It wasn’t flashy or pretentious—it was us or rather who we’d become, growing together .
We were still close enough to Meadow, Bodhi, Ocean, and Rain for drop-in visits, last-minute dinners, and impromptu gatherings on our porch. Close enough that my life didn’t feel uprooted—just expanded.
And when Basil and I sat on that porch swing, wrapped in each other, swaying, I knew—we hadn’t compromised at all, instead we had built a life we were happy about.
If I had any doubts about Basil’s commitment to not go back to toxicity, I got it very clearly during a work dinner with his leadership team and a potential investor.
I still hesitated when I had to do anything pertaining to his work. I knew that his colleagues didn’t hate me—it was something Drew had imagined. Felix had assured me that most people didn’t know who I was, which was comforting, but I was still anxious. In the past, dinners like this one included Drew, and she managed to always make me feel inadequate. But I knew this was part of living in Basil’s life, so I was going to woman up and get it done.
I had to remind myself that things were different now. Basil wasn’t dragging me into his world expecting me to adjust, instead, he was inviting me as an equal, as his significant other.
The first half of the dinner was fine. It was a sit-down affair and I had Basil on one side and Felix on the other. The potential investor who I didn’t like on sight—he had terrible juju —sat on the other side of Basil, which was a relief because I didn’t want to deal with him.
We were having coffee after dinner when the asshole investor decided to go corporate on my hippie ass. We were talking about how people at the table had taken different paths in their career to reach where they were.
“So, Summer, what do you do? Are you in software too?” Randy Thatcher, a big-time VC firm CEO, asked me, leaning so he could look at me past Basil.
“I own a holistic wellness store in Fremont,” I told him.
“What do you sell there?” he asked.
I kept my smile polite. “The store specializes in oils, incense, and aromatherapy products, as well as handmade scarves and other goods crafted by local artists.”
His smirk was slow, condescending. “How charming.”
Here we go .
“Basil, you must love that,” Randy continued. “Nice to have someone who doesn’t bring work stress home. My wife runs a hedge fund, and I wish she’d just be a housewife so I could keep her barefoot and pregnant and let the man make the money. You know what I mean?”
Apparently, no one knew what he meant, and I couldn’t believe he used the term barefoot and pregnant in twenty freaking twenty-five.
He laughed uncomfortably. No one joined him.
There was only silence. Ominous. Stuffy.
I was about to tell him off when my man leaned back in his chair, fixing his company’s potential investor with a look that I recognized well—the one that said he was about to make someone regret their life choices.
“You know, Randy, Summer runs one of the most successful small businesses in the area. She built it from the ground up. No investors, no handouts—just hard work, intelligence, and a talent for what she does.”
Randy’s smirk faltered. “I didn’t mean?—”
“Of course, you didn’t.” Basil took a sip of his drink, then set it down carefully. “You know, we from Stratos are here to prove our worth and the company’s so you’ll invest in us. Summer’s got nothing to prove, she’s already a success in every way I can define it.”
Silence fell again , but this time it was empowering.
The conversation meandered after that, and Randy stayed the hell away from me.
“Is this going to mess things up?” I asked Felix, who was grinning from ear to ear.
“There are other VCs—we don’t need Randy Thatcher’s misogynistic ass.”
I had to say I was liking this new and improved Felix… a lot .
I was also liking how Basil shut Randy down publicly… a lot .
Basil didn’t make excuses like he used to. He didn’t tell me to suck it up or make it work or tell me I imagined it—he told the motherfucker to shut the fuck up about me. It was beautiful.
I let out a slow breath, my fingers curling around my glass as I fought back a smile.
“Basil Masters,” I whispered in his ear. “You’re getting so lucky tonight.”
He threw his head back and laughed. “Sunshine, I’m lucky every night because you’re with me.”