Page 55 of Beyond the Stroke

“As my date.”

“To show your parents you’ve moved on?”

“Yeah, but also because I’m ninety-percent sure they’ve invited my ex to dinner.”

“I could probably take this chick. Does she work out?”

“I don’t need you to get into a fight, although that would be hot to see you fighting for me.”

She waves her wrist. “You’re right. I can’t afford any more injuries.”

“So will you come to dinner?” I prod.

She’s quiet a moment, contemplating, and just when I think she might do it, she shakes her head. “Can’t. I have to work.”

“Sure. I get it.”

My response comes quickly. I’m used to smiling my way through whatever expectations people throw at me. Easygoing and flexible.

If I don’t hold my own against my parents, I’ll end up married to Daphne out of guilt.

“Goodnight, Flipper,” she says on a sigh. Under the dim glow of the fairy lights we hung earlier, I watch her eyelids softly close.

“Goodnight, Wildflower.”

A stubborn weight settles in my chest, and I try to shake it loose.

I can’t be mad that Summer said no. She doesn’t owe me anything. I’m the one pushing for this friendship.

But just once, it would be nice if someone showed up for me.

fourteen

. . .

SUMMER

When Rory showed up last night, my instinct was to turn him away. I’d even rehearsed it in my head a dozen times, but when I’d seen him standing there, hopeful, and sincere, all my practiced words scattered. Because pushing Rory away is exhausting. He’s got too much resolve.

So, I’m trying a new tactic: let Rory have his way so he thinks he doesn’t have to try so hard. Maybe then this odd acquaintance of ours will quietly fizzle.

But damn those pickles he brought me were good. So good that I ate a couple with my breakfast burrito this morning.

Will you come to dinner with my parents?

In the moment, it had been an easy answer, so it’s confusing to me while I’ve been stewing over it all day.

While I walked the dogs this morning.

As I painted alone on the beach with my paints from Scarlett that Rory had recovered after the break in.

Even when I helped Cal bring his fishing equipment to the bench where he sits on the boardwalk.

The situation with Rory’s parents sounds eerily like the one I’ve experienced myself.

I recall the out-of-body experience of watching my parents and Tripp gathered around the dining table, talking about my life like I wasn’t an active participant. My mom was practically planning our wedding. My dad all grins and hearty laughter as he and Tripp discussed Tripp’s promotion in the company. My family’s company. The one my grandfather started, but that had no place for me because Tripp was the man and he’d be taking care of me.

“Let Tripp take care of you. It’s better that way. And then you can do your little paintings.”My mom had smiled so unaffectedly, like what she was offering me was all I could ever hope and dream for.

---