Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 97073 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97073 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 485(@200wpm)___ 388(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
A year.
Two years.
Inspiration didn’t strike, work only became harder, and it now seems utterly impossible to keep up pretenses. My writer’s block has been corrosive, affecting my mood, chiseling away at my life. I’ve become more and more insular, depressed and quiet. I’ll still meet Alice and the group out every now and again, but at home, here, it’s just been me, alone with my anger for a long time now.
My isolation hit home a few months ago, during the holidays. I didn’t get back to the States for Christmas this year. My mom passed away from ovarian cancer a long time ago, but my dad lives in Washington State near my brother and his family. In the past, I usually make it over there for a visit in spring and again around Thanksgiving or Christmas. This year, that didn’t happen. I can still remember the sadness in my dad’s voice when I told him I wouldn’t be there. It’s better though. I don’t want to cast my dark cloud over my family, taint them with everything I’m dealing with. It’s been a personal, difficult journey for a while now. No one truly understands it, not even Patrick, not completely.
Summer’s the only reason anything has changed. She’s too bright and loud and annoying and irresistible.
Another dressing gets made and tossed out.
“Oh my god, how is it getting worse?!” she asks herself.
I don’t realize I’m smiling until it’s too late. There’s no escaping it—this feeling of summer.
And as that thought springs to mind, I do an about-face, mumble about needing a shower, and head up the stairs as fast as I can. I’m surprised I hit every stair.
Before, with Summer, there was attraction. Right from the beginning, I noticed that, but it was simple. I could categorize her in my head and file her beauty away as an afterthought.
But this? My chest tightening to the point of pain? Me locking the bathroom door behind me like I’m scared of what I might do if I don’t? This is more than I anticipated, more than I’ve felt in years.
Oh god, I hate it. I feel like everything is suddenly tender and raw, like my heart is living outside my body. I lean over the sink and look in the mirror. A bear stares back at me. If not a bear, a scraggly man who could have used a decent shave three months ago. I’m surprised she hasn’t run out of this cottage screaming.
I turn on the shower, and while I wait for the water to get hot, I pull my shaving cream and razor out of the cabinet.
CHAPTER 16
NATE
Well this is turning out horribly. The dinner party started an hour ago. Everyone showed up, just like I expected, except Oliver brought a friend, some kid—well, I guess he’s Summer’s age, but he seems younger than her. He’s enamored, cornering her in the kitchen and commandeering most of her time while the rest of us hang out in the living room.
When I ask, Mike tells me he’s a new hire on the farm, a relative of so-and-so, I don’t know, I’m only half listening as I try to pick up what the guy is telling Summer to make her smile.
This is my cottage and those are my smiles!
Suddenly, I’ve decided I don’t feel like sharing. I’m greedy and annoyed. I push up off my couch, walk over to her while they’re talking, and wrap my hand around her arm, lightly enough that I won’t hurt her as I tug her away.
“Come pick out another bottle of wine you want me to open. The others are almost empty.”
“Nate.” She laughs, looking back at Oliver’s friend. “We were having a conversation.”
“Who?”
“Me and…”
She doesn’t even know his name, which tells me everything I need to know.
The guy sulks into the living room to join the others, and Summer scowls at me, lowering her voice when she says, “That was rude. He and I were talking. He was telling me about a variety of carrot that only grows… Why are you smiling like that?”
“Like what?”
She pushes my chest. “Like you’re making fun of me.”
I capture her hand and keep her palm flat against my shirt. One second passes, then another. Her expression changes, her eyes growing soft and contemplative. I look away and drop her hand, clear my throat, and point to the various wine options we have. There are a dozen bottles spread out. Everyone brought some to share, and I bought a bunch at the store earlier. We could survive here for weeks if we needed to. It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been snowed in. Last year, around this time, we got a really heavy snowstorm that made it impossible to drive on the streets. It was three days before most of it melted off.