Page 33 of Summer's Echo
Her gaze lingered for a moment longer, but she said nothing else, retreating into her room. As soon as her door clicked shut, I exhaled, finally releasing the breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. Once in the safety of my room, I dropped my purse on the floor and collapsed onto my bed, tracing the edges of my lips. Echo’s words, his touch, his kiss… They replayed over and over in my head, and no amount of rubbing or distraction could erase the way they made me feel.
Chapter Fifteen
Echo
October 2019, The Day After the Wedding that Wasn’t
7:17 a.m.
Summer finally fell back to sleep, her breathing soft, but laden. I stared at her, any hope of comfort escaping me. The room was still covered in darkness, except for the sliver of light casting from the sun. It illuminated her pretty face, highlighting my favorite features, but the weariness in her body was undeniable. Exhaustion had left her disoriented; muddling her words and thoughts after we kissed. She said she wanted me, but it wasn’t the right time. I released a bitter laugh because it never seemed to be the right time for me and Summer. She said she had her reasons for calling off her wedding, but she didn’t share them with me. After living fifteen years in a fog of confusion when it came to Summer Knight, I needed answers.
“Summer. Wake up,” I said, my voice indicating the early hour.
She glanced around the room, slowly focusing on her surroundings. “What time is it?” she murmured.
“A little after seven. Wake up. I need to talk to you,” I replied, leaving no room for argument.
Her features clouded with thought, her blank expression momentarily darkening as she searched for the right words. Her face shifted into a knowing scowl, the kind that told me she realized her time for vague answers and conflicting behavior had run out. It was time for her to come clean.
She sat up slowly, reaching to grab a bottle of water from the nightstand before leaning against the headboard. She tossed the water back with a few gulps. “What’s up, E?”
I snickered, though shit wasn’t funny. “Talk, Summer. Now. And I’m not playing.” Her scowl deepened, and I didn’t give a damn. I continued to stare unflinching because I didn’t care about her irritation; I cared about the truth.
“I met Deshawn at homecoming a few years ago,” she began. “He was handsome and sweet and smart. He checked every box on my ‘list’.” She lifted her hands, making air quotes when she saidlist,before continuing. “It was a whirlwind. I went from dating myself for almost two years after a nasty break-up to suddenly traveling with a man who loved food, wine, and culture just as much as I did. He was climbing the corporate ladder, just like I thought I wanted to, but…” Her words faltered. She slightly shook her head. “When the honeymoon phase ended, and the dust settled, it became obvious we didn’t have much in common beyond traveling, food, and wine. My heart never skipped a beat when I was with him… There were no butterflies.”
“So why agree to marry him?” I asked, keeping my tone even as I leaned slightly closer.
She shrugged, her teeth catching the corner of her bottom lip as tears brimmed in her eyes. “Because I want a husband. I want a family. And being in love wasn’t at the top of that list I mentioned,” she admitted, swiping quickly at the tears spilling onto her cheeks. “I thought that giddy, delightful, bubbly feeling would come with time. But life moved so fast, and one day, I looked up, and I was engaged. I was planning a wedding, but I was caught up in the frills of it all, not the love.”
“Hmm,”I said, joining her against the headboard, giving her space but staying close enough for her to know I was there.
“I thought about ending it. God, I wanted to end it so many times, but then I woke up, and it was my wedding day. And I felt sick to my stomach.” She paused, her voice trembling as she stared down at her hands. “I thought about going to Shawn, telling him everything. I thought maybe we could tell everyone together. Or Trin and Brooke—they’d help me. But nothing felt right yesterday morning. Nothing except going to our spot.”
Her words lingered in the room like a confession, raw and unpolished. I didn’t say anything right away, allowing the heft of it all to settle. When I finally looked at her, I saw the vulnerability in her eyes—the fear, the relief, the guilt—all beautifully woven together in a way only Summer could carry.
“When did things change?” I asked, trying to keep my voice steady, but the need to know hammered like rain pelting the pavement.
“Some months ago,” she admitted. “But I guess, if I’m being honest, I always knew that I shouldn’t have accepted his proposal.” Her gaze dropped to her lap.
Her admission hit me harder than I expected, and my interest piqued at the timing. Some months ago? Could it have been five months ago at Brooke and Seth’s wedding? Something shifted on that patio. I felt it then, and I had a gut feeling now… Summer called off her wedding for the same reasons I broke up with Kourtni. Because deep down, we both knew we were supposed to be together.
“Did you have dreams about what your wedding would be like?” I asked.
She nodded, her expression pensive. “Of course. I think every girl dreams about her wedding day.”
“And what did you see?”
Summer leaned her head back against the headboard, closing her eyes as she let the vision wash over her. “An outdoor wedding, right as the sun is setting, surrounded by large trees and colorful roses. Maybe seventy-five guests—only the closet family and friends. Great food, lots of wine, and good music.”
“And who do you see, Summer?” I asked, my tenor soft yet probing.
Her mouth parted, confusion flickering across her face. “What do you mean?”
“Who’s standing there, waiting to receive you as his wife?” I clarified.
Her eyes widened, like I’d reached into the most intimate, private corners of her mind and unveiled something she’d been hiding, even from herself. I trailed my eyes over her face, down the slope of her neck, watching as her breaths grew shallow and labored. The truth—her reality—hovered on her lips, but she fought to let it out.
“Close your eyes,” I urged, “and tell me who you see.”
