Chapter 6 Summer
Denny kisses me that first night on the beach, with the shore at our toes and the sunset drawing pinks and purples above us.
The next morning, and every morning since, he surprises me by moving his surf session from Pine Point—the toughest of the three Surf’s Up event locations—to where I surf at Crystal Cove. It’s the first time I’m not surfing alone since my dad left town.
That next Friday, just over a week in, he’s genuinely understanding when I turn down a date and tell him Friday nights are for me and Parker and our weekly tradition called Summer Friday—born last year, when I resolved to no longer spend my Friday nights on disappointing dates—where we sit in our booth at Oakley’s, people watching over my romance book du jour and whichever autobiography Parker is on.
But Denny comes over afterward, arms laden with grocery bags, and cooks me a late-night dinner that has me stuffed for several days.
On the weekend, he makes the three-hour drive back to his hometown to relieve the neighbor who watches his dog while he trains for Surf’s Up. I resolve to play it cool, determined to let him do the chasing.
My phone pings not a minute after he makes it home.
DENNY: Is it crazy that I miss you?
SUMMER: After knowing me just a week? I’d call you a liar if you didn’t.
DENNY: Best week of my life.
He sleeps over that next Monday. And Tuesday.
On Thursday, when he leaves my text unanswered all day and I brace myself for disappointment, he picks me up from work with his back seat loaded with takeout and our surfboards strapped to his roof. We eat on the beach, watch the sun set on our boards, and he sleeps over that night, too.
And that’s how it goes for the week that follows. Denny wishes me a good weekend after this morning’s surf, once again texting me the moment he arrives home to his dog.
DENNY: Best three weeks of my life.
I barely manage to sit still in my seat. To reel back the excited shimmy dying for release, audience be damned, as I swipe away from Denny’s text and back to my four-way video call with the girls.
“She’s back and she’s blushing.” Melody beams at me through the phone. Siena’s and Shy’s excited sounds fill the darkening inside of my car where I’ve parked it outside Oakley’s after tonight’s volunteer meeting.
Friday nights are as lively as it gets in Oakwood, as people pop into Oakley’s early to secure a table before the evening dinner rush.
Tables have been especially in demand lately, with Sheffield’s Diner still shuttered.
Down the street that’s crowded with milling locals, the diner’s lavender-painted bricks are still lined with yellow caution tape, flapping in the breeze.
I’ve been bombarding the group chat about Denny for weeks, but between kids and jobs and honeymoons, it’s the first time I’ve been able to properly connect with my friends since he and I started dating.
It’s also the first time in ages that we’re gushing about my life. After years of being happy for my friends, it’s nice to have my turn.
There’s every chance I’m getting ahead of myself.
After all, I’ve been known to be tragically color-blind to any and all shades of red. But if there’s one person in this world I trust, it’s Parker. And seeing as he was the one to bring me and Denny together…
I’ve got visions of white dresses, beach houses, and water babies in my head. It’s probably delusional. But what’s life without a little delusion?
Siena’s voice snaps me out of my fantasy just as Denny gets down on a knee, ring in hand. “Of course she’s blushing. You’ve seen the pictures, girls. The guy’s got an ass on him—must be all that surfing.”
“Oh my God, Cee.” Shy shakes her head with a laugh. Her bright blond three-year-old daughter, Rosie, waves obliviously at the camera, smiling in her mom’s lap. “Do you ever not say whatever pops into your head?”
“Pretty sure you know the answer to that.” Melody’s dirty blond hair shudders with her laughter. I can hear Zac chuckling off-camera.
“What can I say? I’m an ass girl.” Siena twirls her index finger in a turn around motion, presumably to an off-camera Brooks, if her barely contained bedroom eyes are anything to go by.
Whatever his reaction is, it elicits a nod of appreciation from Siena.
“I’ve always believed you can tell a lot about a man by the firmness of his behind.
Brooks’s says Meet me upstairs for a very important meeting in five. ”
“Okay, so in five minutes or less, tell us about Denny, Summer.” Mel shifts on her couch and half of Zac’s body appears, apparently a willing participant in the gossip session.
Behind them is a window with a view of a busy, town house–lined street, definitely not in Oakwood.
They’ve been sticking around their place in the city since the honeymoon.
“By the way,” Zac cuts in. “My mother-in-law heard about your new guy and asked when you and Parker opened up your relationship.”
I cough. “Pardon?”
Brooks’s frowning face materializes over Siena’s shoulder. Melody shakes her head. “My mom, from the bottom of her heart, thinks that you and Parker have been dating since high school, and that you’ve now added a third to the mix.”
“Caroline Woods.” I press my face into my hands. “I know your mom’s been out to lunch since…”
“Since she was born, probably.”
“But shouldn’t she know who her son is dating? They only just lived in his apartment for two weeks. Without even asking if they could.”
Four out of six faces on the screen stare back, amused by the whole thing. And while Rosie grins at someone off-screen—her dad, maybe—I notice that Shy’s gone suspiciously quiet.
I know exactly what her smirk’s about. Parker admitted she’s been grilling him about our friendship since they met, convinced that it’s something… else. That smirk tells me she hasn’t taken his denial to heart.
And it’s making me grateful for the lack of light inside my car, as a flush blossoms in my cheeks. Maybe it’s obvious to her how often my mind drifts to that godforsaken rumor. I might hate it more than Parker does.
“Where is Parker tonight, Sum?” asks Shy.
“Holding our table at Oakley’s. It’s… Summer Friday.
” I clear my throat, knowing I’m doing very little to dissuade her suspicions by bringing up the Friday ritual.
Date night, she likes to call it. “Well, now that we’ve wasted precious seconds on Caroline Woods’s nonsense…
I know it’s crazy, but I’ve never felt this good about a guy before.
We have so much in common. And he cooks.
Cooks well, which you know is crucial for me, seeing as I can’t toast bread without catastrophe. ”
“He’s already cooked for you? Three weeks in?” Mel asks.
“Try three days in.” I bask in the rosy glow that descends upon me whenever I think about it. “I mean, that’s a good sign, right? I’m not just blowing that out of proportion?”
“Amazing sign. Brooks won me over with his baking.” Siena gathers her mane of dark hair and twists it into a messy bun on top of her head, which Brooks watches with an inordinate amount of concentration.
Mel nods enthusiastically. “Zac’s made me breakfast every morning since the first time I stayed over at his place.”
“Well, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. There’s no need to book the wedding caterers just yet,” I say. The girls sober up. “Just kidding! I’m thinking French cuisine.”
“Summer’s getting married!” Siena shimmies her shoulders. Melody starts humming the bridal march. I pretend to clasp a bouquet to my chest, bouncing in my seat as though I’m traipsing down a petaled aisle. The boys shake their heads… and Shy stays uncharacteristically silent, damn her.
“Well, when do we get to meet the future Mr. Prescott?” Mel asks.
“We’re home next weekend to visit my mom, if you want to set something up, Sum?” Siena adds.
I gasp. “Why didn’t you say anything? Could you squeeze us in on Sunday night, maybe?”
“Done deal!”
“Consider us there,” Mel adds.
“Shy?” I prompt, raising a don’t fuck with me eyebrow.
“I’ll be there.” She gives an innocent shrug.
With a satisfied sigh, I jab at the ignition on my car, killing the engine and the AC already badly needed this early in May. “Well, I’m off! Summer Friday awaits.”
I hurry into Oakley’s after a round of goodbyes. While Parker is plenty used to my tardiness, I really do look forward to our solo nights. It’s nice being able to fully unwind—to sit in easy, comfortable silence without constant pressure to engage the people I’m with.
Parker perks up the moment I slide into our booth in the lively bar.
“You’ll never guess what happened.” He sets down his half-finished book, swings his legs underneath the table, and leans over.
“Check it out. Don’s here.” He tips his head toward the rest of the pub, and a quick scan shows our boss sitting solo at a table near the hall leading to the washrooms. “And… so is Kendra. Sitting at the bar.”
I spot our coworker Kendra with her friends, wearing a frilly dress so unlike the casual attire I always see her in.
Parker’s fingers curl around his book. “I’ve been thinking about what you saw a few weeks ago, about Kendra leaving a full container of homemade muffins in Don’s office?
And the next day, Don chose her to pick up Harley Deangelo’s training program, when his own schedule got too busy for it?
” Harley Deangelo, a minor league baseball player, had been working with Don to rehabilitate a knee injury.
“I assumed Kendra won Don over with the muffins, because, well…”
“She’s blatantly incompetent and a total suck-up?”
“Yes—you were onto something, but I don’t think…” Parker wrestles with a smirk. “I mean, I do think she’s been enticing him with muffins. But… of a different variety.”
I gasp. “No.”
“Yes,” he hisses. “They keep shooting looks at each other, and— Oh, shit. Here we go.”