I slowly exhale, debating my answer. I honestly didn’t expect him to ask me to take photos of him for his social media this weekend. I thought maybe he would try to show me that he’s been missing me and wanting quality time with me that isn’t focused around his online presence. I was hoping he’d do something that would make me question breaking up with him and giving the relationship another chance. The tiny bubble of wishful thinking bursts and dissipates.
“Um,” I start to answer before I see Dayton shaking his head in my peripheral vision. I turn to look at him.
We’re stuck in Marg Fest traffic, so he turns to face me. He’s glaring, as usual, but I’m strangely able to interpret it as him telling me I can do better.
I know I deserve better, but that’s rich, coming from you.
He smirks before looking forward again.
Sav saves me from having to answer. “Can we stop for a burger at Iggy’s? I’m starving!”
Iggy’s Grill is our favorite burger joint on the island, and it’s been around for years. They put fried pickles and homemade ranch on their juicy burgers, and the garlic aioli dip is the best I’ve ever had.
Dayton takes the next exit and turns into the parking lot. We all step out of the car and walk toward the entrance.
Sav loops her arm through mine and leans down to whisper in my ear, “Jeez, this is so awkward! When are you going to pull the trigger and break up with him? Also, Dayton is hotter than I remember. I can’t believe you sent him those pictures!”
I squeeze her arm and shake my head. He’s a few steps ahead of us, but I’ll die if he knows I told her about it.
“I’m trying to pretend it never happened,” I whisper back. “And I don’t know when. The sooner, the better. I just need to get alone with him.”
She raises her brows as we keep walking. Once we get up to Iggy’s to-go order window, I order the fried pickle burger on a brioche bun with truffle fries. After everyone gets their food, we walk back to the car.
I look up at Dayton as he opens my car door. “Thank you.”
Axel chatters on about how excited he is for the competition and to see what musicians and influencers will be there. I think he’s been looking forward to this weekend more for the concert than for me.
Once we pull up to the house, Sav goes to the back of the car to unload her bags. Dayton’s brows scrunch together. He moves to help her, clearly confused. The studio is only big enough for two people.
I let him think about it, not offering an explanation about the sleeping arrangements. I hesitantly told Axel I wanted Sav to stay with me, and he casually told me he had already planned to sleep at a campground with some other surfer friends so they could get up early and catch some waves.
Maybe he wants to break up. He certainly doesn’t seem interested in having sex with me or spending an evening cuddling in bed with me.
In the eight months we’ve spent apart, I haven’t missed him much either.
My fragile self-esteem shrivels down further. I’ve done a lot of healing work since my ex-husband effectively destroyed my confidence and our marriage. The way my first marriage ended was annoyingly cliché. He started sleeping with his secretary on work trips.Snooze-fest. She was also married, and she had a child. His phone was connected to his computer, and when I saw the disgusting texts they were sending back and forth, I was stunned and embarrassed.
I had known Andrew wasn’t perfect. I knew we didn’t have a fairy-tale type of love, but it was a passionate relationship. We had gotten married when I was twenty-two—which I now know was far too young—and divorced two years later. I’d always been impressed by his work ethic and drive.
Now that I’m nearing thirty, I’ve learned the ego is an unfortunate symptom that most successful men have. They think because they have money and they’re respected at work that their wives should just stick around and put up with whatever bullshit treatment they dish out.
Hence Dayton’s success in business being more of a red flag than appealing.
If I cared, which I don’t.
“Earth to Summer!” I hear Sav saying.
I blink, clearing the fog of my unpleasant thoughts to focus on her. I somehow walked through the yard and out onto the back deck of the bungalow while my mind was on memory lane.
“Do you want to eat on the beach?” she says.
I nod. “Sure, a beach picnic sounds fun. Let me grab us some towels.”
Dayton is already in the studio, depositing Sav’s bag on thefloor. His father was always the perfect gentleman, and he certainly inherited some of those traits.
He grabs a few of the rolled-up striped yellow beach towels I have in a basket in the corner. He’s wearing a pale blue pinstripe linen shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, with khaki slacks. His wavy ebony hair has grown out a bit, and the five-o’clock shadow is more than attractive; it’s hot as fuck.
“Just do it already,” he grits out.