Chapter 32
chapter thirty-two
Dayton
“Mr. Copeland,” Ava says, poking her head into my morning meeting with the executive branch manager. “You have a guest waiting in your office.”
It’s the quarterly meeting for our Miami branch, and we’re on Zoom with the New York office.
“Let’s take lunch,” Jim, the branch manager, says.
I stand, stretching my legs. I asked Summer to have lunch with me before her flight this afternoon. She wouldn’t stay another night, so I guess I’m heading to Coconut Beach after my Friday meeting.
I’m ready to start working more remotely and meeting clients on Zoom so I can spend more time with her. The problem is, I don’t have an office in Coconut Beach, and since I’ve been working out of Miami, I set up client meetings here with the ones I don’t normally see in person.
I had a moment of clarity last night when she was describing her plans for the outdoor deck on the house.
I imagined sitting out there and grilling burgers while our kids ran around on the beach at sunset.
I pictured her laughing with one of our babies on her hip, walking over to me to give me a kiss.
I saw myself wrap my arm around her shoulders, and later on, we’d slow dance under the string lights.
I saw it as if it were really happening, like a memory from the future.
If only I can convince her that it should be us.
Financially, it definitely makes more sense to sell.
The tourists who vacation in Coconut Beach are in the top three percent of the world.
Celebrities and billionaires frequent the island, oftentimes purchasing homes they’ll come to three to four times a year.
We could sell it for a number up in the double-digit millions, which would give me a lot of capital to invest in my company.
I’d be that much closer to my goal of becoming a billionaire by thirty-five.
Truthfully, all Summer needs to do is smile and bat her eyelashes at me, and I’d fold like a napkin.
When I stride into my office, for a brief moment, I smile at her back before realizing my mistake. Noelle turns to face me, a coy smile on her lips.
“Hi, you.” She tosses her honey hair over her shoulder.
She knows I love her hair. She just doesn’t know why.
She’s wearing a tan trench coat and red lipstick. What she’s doing here starts registering in my brain a few seconds too late. The next ten seconds float by in slow motion.
The trench coat opens, revealing the red lingerie underneath at the exact same time that the door to my office opens again.
“Yes, he told me you would be joining him for lunch—oh my.” Ava is speaking behind me.
I flip around to see the wide-eyed expressions of my secretary and Summer. Summer’s cheeks drain of color. Her lips part, a gasp filling the silence.
My stomach sinks into my toes.
I step toward her. “Summer.”
She shakes her head, stepping back. “Sorry to interrupt.” She spins, darting back out into the hallway.
“Fuck,” I say under my breath, pushing past Ava, who looks ready to vomit, probably thinking she may get fired for this. She’s right.
“Summer! Wait.”
She’s already at the elevator, pushing the button over and over. She’s dressed in a floral tube top and a flowy yellow skirt and sandals. She looks every bit the sunshine-loving girl I’ve been unable to stop falling for.
I reach her as soon as the doors open. She rushes inside, and I follow her.
“Hey.” I grab her chin, seeing the tears pool in her eyes. “I didn’t invite her here. She just showed up.”
My nerves are frayed. I need her to listen and understand this. I won’t be able to take it if she doesn’t.
She nods, attempting a smile. “I don’t care. I—you don’t owe me an explanation.”
“I do though. I need you to hear me.” I reach for her hand, but she slides out of my grasp. My heart feels like it’s fracturing inside my chest. I make a fist by my side. “I haven’t spoken to her in close to a year. She just showed up,” I repeat, wondering why I have such shitty luck.
The elevator reaches the street level, and Summer darts out, speed-walking toward the street. “Dayton, I don’t care. You and I are—we’re nothing. She’s gorgeous. She makes sense for you. I understand.”
I grab her arm, pulling her back. She stops, and I see her shoulders shaking from the tears she’s trying to hide from me.
“Listen to me! Please, please just listen.” I’m talking to the back of her head, my lips brushing her hair.
“Noelle wants a relationship with me. I never did. I told her that. She didn’t accept it.
She came here, probably thinking I’d cave if she did some cliché trench-coat midday office visit.
Even if you hadn’t walked in, I would’ve sent her away.
I’ve never viewed her as relationship material—ever.
I’m sorry you had to see that.” My voice is breaking.
The Miami summer sun beats down on us.
She finally turns back to face me. Tears are streaming down her cheeks. My stomach muscles clench, and I wish more than anything that I could crack open my mind and let her read my inner thoughts concerning her.
“Cupcake, you know you’re it for me. It’s only you. I—”
“I’m not your girlfriend!” she nearly shouts, drawing the attention of the people walking by. She lowers her voice. “I’m just … I have trauma, Dayton. I get triggered by things. I thought we were on the same page, and it’s totally fine that we’re not. I’m just glad I know what the deal is now.”
I run my hand through my hair, tension radiating through my shoulders. “So, you don’t believe me? You think I invited her here at the same time that I invited you to, what, rub it in your face?”
She throws her hands up. “I don’t know. Maybe! You’ve played games with me before. It’s kind of your thing.”
“You think last night was a game to me? You actually believe that?” I’m gaping at her in disbelief, wondering what I can possibly do to convince her I’m telling the truth.
She lifts her chin, pulling out her phone and tapping on the Uber app. “I don’t presume to know what last night meant to you.” Her voice has turned cold and distant.
I grab my phone out of my pocket, tapping on Ava’s office line.
I put it up to my ear right as the Uber pulls to the curb.
Summer moves to get into the car. I open her door for her, slamming it shut before walking around the front of the car to the other side so she can’t tell the driver to take off without me.
She ignores me when I get into the car, turning to look out her window.
“C.B. Investments. How may I direct your call?” Ava answers with a shrill voice.
“I want Noelle out of my office, and I want her banned from all C.B. Investments locations. And I need you to clear my schedule for the rest of today and reschedule all my in-person meetings for the week to virtual.”
“Y-yes, sir. Do you—”
I end the call, turning toward Summer. Her arms are folded over her stomach as the driver pulls up to my apartment a couple miles down the road.
In nice weather, it would be a pleasant twenty-minute stroll.
But in the Miami heat, it’s a sweaty trek in the grueling sun.
As soon as we get to the front door, Summer opens the door before slamming it in my face.
I follow her to the elevator. When it opens, she punches the button for my floor hard and leans back against the stainless steel wall, eyes laser-focused on the blank space across from her.
Her tears have dried on her cheeks. My mind is whirling with ways that I can prove to her that I’m telling the truth, that she’s the only one I want.
I start pacing the elevator, rubbing my hand over the back of my neck and stealing glances at her.
She doesn’t break, doesn’t spare me a look.
When the doors open, she bolts out, stomping up to my apartment. Thankfully, there’s a keypad with a code entry because I left my keys at the office.
I key in the code before pushing open the door for her. She heads straight for the bedroom, slamming the door shut behind her.
“Shit,” I curse under my breath, rubbing my eyes.
I’d give anything to be able to talk to my dad right now.
I had everything I’d ever wanted right in my grasp twelve hours ago.
Now it’s slipping away, and I don’t know how the fuck to stop it.
A painful crushing sensation echoes through my chest. Nausea has been slowly building in my gut, and it’s only gotten worse with each passing minute that she’s refused to accept my explanation or my apology.
My hands shake as I walk over to the kitchen sink and fill a glass with water. I bring it to my lips to take a drink when I hear the bedroom door open. I look up at her.
Her eyes are wide, her bottom lip trembling. I look down to see the remote in her shaking hands.
“Have you been … watching me?” She blinks, almost like she’s afraid she sounds crazy.
I swallow over the lump in my throat before taking a step toward her. She remains perfectly still, her brow furrowed. She looks more confused than angry.
I take that as a shriveled sign of hope. When I make it to her, I grab the remote, nodding for her to step into the bedroom. She does, standing at the foot of the bed, wrapping the ends of her hair around her finger nervously.
The security camera feed at the beach house is on the screen.
Javier and his crew are on the back porch, working on replacing all the warped, splintered old boards with new ones.
In the corner, I can make out January and Lucille, Mia’s grandmother, planted in beach chairs down on the sand, but instead of facing out toward the water, they’re watching the shirtless men working.
They have drinks with little umbrellas in them, and they seem to be enjoying the view.
Summer is still waiting for my answer.
Finally, I look down at her. “Yes.”
“Why?”
“You never answer my calls.”
She blinks at me. “You stalk me on a daily basis because I won’t answer your calls?”
“You knew there were cameras there.”