Chapter 28
chapter twenty-eight
Dayton
My typical Sunday routine when I’m not traveling to Coconut Beach involves waking up later than usual—around six—a workout in the gym with heavy weights, followed by a five-mile run and an ice-cold shower.
I spend some time watching Summer on the security cameras while I make myself a protein rich meal of egg whites, vegetables, and steak.
Then I check my emails and my top clients’ stock numbers and read the news.
Before going to bed by eight p.m. so I can wake up at four, I check the security cameras again.
So, I know that she typically sleeps in until nine thirty before doing some beach yoga, going for a walk, and leaving to get matcha or an acai bowl or both.
She spends some time either fiddling with her camera or throwing pottery on the back porch. Sometimes, she talks to Savannah on the phone and eats garlic shrimp. Other times, she’s inside the studio, and I have to guess if she’s watching a TV show, reading a book, or texting a man.
I’m curious to see how she spends her full day.
After my shower, I saw that she was already outside, doing her beach yoga practice. After admiring her for a few minutes, I left to get us some breakfast.
When I pull back up, she’s walking out of the studio. I set the to-go bags down on the patio table, along with the drink carrier, holding my Americano and her matcha latte.
She stares at the items before her eyes meet mine. She’s wearing her usual Sunday attire—tan biker shorts and an oversize Sea Life Conservation Society T-shirt. This is a new one that says Iguanas are better than people.
“Come eat,” I tell her, pulling out her chair before sitting down at the table.
She hesitates for a moment before finally giving in and joining me. She blinks at me as I hand her the green matcha latte. When I hand her the breakfast sandwich and she unwraps it, she blinks down at it with the same bewildered expression.
“Tania knew your order. Matcha latte with coconut milk and a croissant sandwich with bacon, egg, avocado, and spicy mayo.”
I pull out my identical sandwich. “It sounded good, so I got one too.”
I bite into it. It tastes delicious. Summer hesitates before finally sipping her latte and biting into her sandwich.
“So, I was thinking we should take out Penelope and have a sunset dinner. Or we could hike to Hidden Cove. I also wouldn’t mind doing some surfing on the north side of the island. Unless you’re tired and just want to have a chill beach day.”
Penelope was my dad’s catamaran that I inherited when he passed. We used to take her out fishing every weekend before Summer and Clara moved in.
Her chewing stops. Her eyebrows pinch together before she shakes her head, swallows her bite, and washes it down with a sip of her drink.
“I’m sorry, but who are you, and what have you done with Dayton Copeland? And why did I have to meet the evil twin first?”
I bark out a laugh and shake my head. “You’ve always been funny, Cupcake.”
“Aren’t you flying back to New York today?”
“No. I planned to sleep in and relax today because I figured the wedding festivities would go late and there might be people I wanted to spend time with before leaving.”
I hold off on adding the part about hoping she was the one I would be spending today with.
“Oh, well, you should do that. You don’t have to stick around with me the whole day.”
“But we have so much fun together, bonding and shit.”
“I think our bonding should remain … where it is. We’ve bonded plenty.”
“I can think of a few more positions we could bond in.”
“Oh, I’m sure you could.”
“Have you not enjoyed bonding with me? Because if you say no, I’ll have to spend the rest of the day proving how big of a liar you are with more bonding exercises and documenting your vocal, enthusiastic participation.”
Her cheeks tinge bright red.
“Yoo-hoo, neighbors! Anybody home?” January comes up around the corner from the beach side.
She waves cheerfully, a dish of some kind in her hands. “I made you an upside-down cake because, well, I just had some milk that was about to go bad. I had to use it because you know how, sometimes, on this island, we can’t get things in time, and the stores run out, and yada yada.”
I stand up to meet her, grabbing the cake from her before she gets to the stairs leading up to the porch.
“Oh, thank you, sugar. You sure look so much like your father. Sometimes I see you, and I think it’s him for a minute.” She smiles, the wrinkles around her eyes creasing with the movement.
Instead of turning around to head back to her house, she starts walking up the steps. I guess she wants to stay and talk for a bit.
I extend a hand to help her, but she sticks with the railing. We make our way over to where Summer is dutifully eating her breakfast sandwich and sipping on her matcha. She smiles warmly at January, warmer than she’s ever smiled at me.
“Hello. How are you? Thanks for bringing the cake! This one is my favorite.”
January doesn’t need an invitation to take a seat. I follow suit.
“Better than Mary Beth’s, I assume? How’s the house coming along?”
Summer gestures toward the back door. “Would you like to see? The painters have some plastic taped up, but we can get into most of the rooms.”
January nods. “In a minute. How are you two doing? I know it’s been a while since the accident, but I just wanted to check in and see if you needed anything.”
Summer smiles warmly at her. “I’m doing … it almost feels wrong to say it, but I’m doing okay. I guess the only thing I’m struggling with now is feeling like a disappointment. Like if she was still here, I don’t think she would be proud of me.”
Her eyes drift over to me, guilt swirling in them.
Not now. Don’t feel this way now, right when you’re starting to actually forgive me.
January scoffs. “What are you talking about? She’d be so happy you’re fixing up this house and putting so much work into it every day to make it perfect.
She would love how far you’ve come! And you two both being back here in Coconut Beach, actually getting along like a family should?
They would have been over the moon about that. ”
Summer and I stare at each other, the seconds crawling by. Her eyes grow sadder with each passing moment. A cramp starts forming in my stomach.
Finally, I stand. “Well, thanks for stopping by with the cake. I can’t wait to dig into it.”
“Sure, sure. Let’s go see the house then!” January stands, smiling warmly at me as she makes her way toward the back door.
Summer crosses her arms over her stomach, and we follow behind our neighbor into the home.
Through the back door, there’s plastic tarp taped up over all the new windows.
The walls have been painted a warm white in the living room.
Summer chose all the colors, and I’m truly amazed at how sharp her eye for design is.
She loves warmth and natural elements, and already, the house feels inviting.
The hewn wood beams are partially covered by painter’s tape and paper, but they stretch across the tall ceiling. The large, brand-new sliding glass door offers an incredible view of Sunrise Beach and the lighthouse down the beach.
“Wow, these cabinets are incredible,” January remarks, brushing her fingers over the carved wooden handle of one.
Summer beams. “Aren’t they? It’s my favorite detail in the kitchen.”
The kitchen has soft cream marble countertops with light gray veins. The dark wood-stained cabinets have a vintage feel to them with the unique patterns of palm trees, hydrangeas, suns, waves, and surfboards carved along each handle.
There are two open shelves stretching across one wall in the same color wood, and the upper cabinets are painted pale yellow with frosted glass on the front of the doors.
The large white farmhouse sink has a champagne bronze faucet and a window partially overlooking what will be the side walkway and a flower garden.
January does her own exploring with Summer trailing behind as they go look through the office, the two bedrooms downstairs, and the two bathrooms. January goes on and on about how much she loves the terra-cotta tiles in the laundry room before we all make our way upstairs.
“There are four bedrooms up here and a loft area. Originally, there was no balcony, but thankfully, my mom insisted on it with the new building permit, and they added it on. The view is incredible, and it’s attached to both of the master suites.”
“Two master suites? That’s perfect! One for each of you.”
January is a sweet old lady, but I wish she’d stop making comments like that. Summer nods but avoids making eye contact with me.
We look through the rest of the rooms, which are only half painted. The biggest bathroom is my favorite since it has a claw-foot tub overlooking the ocean and a scalloped-tile shower with a full glass door. I keep picturing myself watching Summer rinse off after a day on the beach.
Judging by her reaction today, she’s never letting that happen.
January gasps when she steps out onto the brand-new upper deck and sees the turquoise ocean out the back door. We have an incredible view of the lighthouse, miles down Sunrise Beach, and we can even see the pier in the distance. The view itself is worth millions.
“So, what’s the plan? I can only imagine how much profit this place will bring in. You could rent it out half the year.”
Summer sighs, looking out over the water. “We’re selling it.”
I stare at her profile, but she doesn’t look at me.
January smirks. “If you say so. Lots of the billionaires who vacation here would jump on this one. You kids have done a great job.” She pats Summer’s arm. “And your mother would be proud of you—don’t forget it. She wants you to be happy.”
She smiles warmly at me before walking toward the stairs. I’m not sure why she’s talking about Clara in present tense.
I take her elbow, guiding her down the stairs. She lets me help her until we reach the bottom step. She looks up at me, craning her neck back because of our height difference.
“You know, that girl is a lot like Clara. She overthinks things, but at the end of the day, she just needs time to process. Then she usually comes to her senses and realizes it’s all gonna be okay.”
She smiles as we both walk toward the back porch. She throws her hand up in a wave. “Later, handsome.”
I watch her until she’s out of sight. When I make it back up the stairs, I see that Summer is still out on the second-story deck, looking out at the ocean. She sighs when I come up to stand beside her, keeping a modest distance of about six inches between us.
“Do you think she’s right?” she asks.
“About?”
“About my mom just wanting me to be happy.”
“Of course.”
“I don’t want to repeat it. Okay? It was a one—two-time thing. We can’t keep doing it. We can try to be friends, if you want.”
I grip the railing, knuckles whitening as I stare down at the patio table below us.
Friends will never be enough for me, not with her.