That doesn’t sound as right as it did a week ago, but the logistics of our future is something Summer and I will have to figure out later, on our own. Her sister doesn’t get a say.
Winter has a different opinion on the matter. “Unbelievable. What are you, bridesmaid-and-best-man-with-benefits?”
“If you had to put a label on it, sure.”
“My sister doesn’t do casual sex.”
I’m about to say she does it pretty damn well, when Logan’s, “Don’t you dare,” silent warning stops me, and I purse my lips.
“Why are you so mad, exactly?” I ask.
“Because you’re taking advantage of my sister.”
“I’ve been clear from the start what this was—”
“Please, don’t give me any of that crap. You knew she was lonely and vulnerable and you used it to get laid. How long has it been going on?” Winter points an accusing finger at me. “I told you that first morning at breakfast my sister was off-limits.”
I shrug. “Well, sorry, you were exactly one night too late.”
Her jaw drops. “What? How? You were late on Monday; when did you find the time? You… you what? Walked into the lobby and, five minutes later, my sister was warming your bed?”
“We had dinner at the same bar and we bonded over a game of hockey.”
“You mean you seduced her.”
I don’t answer.
“Oh my gosh! So, you’ve been sneaking around behind everyone’s backs since we got here?”
Still, I don’t speak.
“Every night?”
And a few afternoons, too. I muse while keeping my mouth firmly shut.
Now she turns to Logan. “Say something. He’s your best man!”
My friend shrugs. “I can’t control what he does, and neither can you.”
“Of course you’d be on his side,” Winter snaps.
I’d hardly call that having my back, but I can see why Logan needs to keep neutral.
“Listen, Snowflake, I promise no one is getting hurt here.”
“Don’t you dare Snowflake me. And are you really so dumb to think Summer won’t be crushed when you ride away into the sunset alone on Sunday night?”
“That was the initial plan, but nothing has to end on Sunday. Not that it’s any of your business.”
“Great! So, you’re ready to have a girlfriend? A relationship? With my sister?” She walks toward me, stopping a mere foot away. Winter is shorter than me, but somehow manages to look down her nose at me. “Care to know where Summer was just a few weeks ago?”
“Uh?”
“She was in New York, freezing her eggs. Comprende?”
I squint. What is she talking about?
The rant continues. “You know why? Because Summer is the kind of woman who wants to get married and to have a family so bad, she was willing to put herself through weeks of medical exams and hormone shots to secure that future. And not just any family. She wants a big one. A soccer team of cute, chubby babies squealing around the house. So, tell me, how many kids do you want?”
Honestly, I don’t know if I see myself as a father. And definitely not in the immediate future.
Winter must read the answer on my silent features, because next she says, “That’s what I thought.” She comes an inch closer and hisses, “Do me a favor next time you’re”—she makes air quotes—“having fun with my sister. Take a good look at how she stares at you, and then tell me again how no one is going to get hurt.”
***
Winter’s words stay with me long after I leave her room. Does she have a point? Are Summer and I not right for each other? Our chemistry is amazing, and I always have fun when I’m with her, but it’s true we haven’t discussed any of the more serious topics. Because that’s not what people who plan to have a week-long fling do. But I won’t lie: being with her hasn’t felt like a casual fling past that first night together.
Let’s take a look at the hard facts.
I don’t want to say goodbye to Summer come Sunday. But I also don’t want to get married or have kids.
Are we as incompatible as Winter claims? We can’t be, not when we fit so well together.
Summer is the first woman who stirred in me something other than lust, something deeper.
But frozen-eggs deep?
Sixteen
Summer
Two hours, and Archie still hasn’t returned. What did my sister say to him? Why is it taking so long? Are our plans for today still on?
I check my phone for the hundredth time; the screen remains black. Like a watched pot, it won’t ring, ping, vibrate… nothing.
To kill time, I’ve showered and tried out at least a million outfits before settling on light-washed jeans and a simple T-shirt, with my comfortable-to-walk-in-but-pretty tie-up wedges.
How long should I wait? Should I call—
A knock on the door puts an end to the self-doubting. I run to open, and then chide myself in a not-cool way, slow down to a walk, and wait a respectable number of heartbeats before I throw the door ajar.
Archie is standing on the other side, gloriously hot in dark jeans and a white T-shirt so tight he could be bare-chested. The hair at his nape is still damp, meaning he must’ve just gotten out of the shower. If I had to assign him a fantasy today, he’d be the sweaty window washer man from that old Diet Coke commercial.
“Hey,” I say. “You’re alive.” I step aside to let him in, and then close the door behind him. “How was it?”
He’s staring out of the window and has avoided meeting my gaze since he walked in.
“Apparently I’m not allowed to date you.”
Date me? I try not to dwell on the label or read too much into it. He’s probably trying to find a classier way to say, “I’m not allowed to have sex with you and then dump you at the end of the week.”
No, that’s not fair. It was mutually agreed this fling would have an expiration date, and I can’t get mad at him for sticking to the plan. I won’t be one of those women who say it’s okay to have a casual relationship and then ask for a ring within a week.
A nervous chuckle croaks up my throat. “I’m an adult, you know. I don’t need my sister’s permission to do anything.”
“Right,” he says. “Sorry I didn’t come to yoga.”
Oh, guess our big, “Where is this going?” talk is over. I recover quickly from the disappointment and follow his lead, saying, “No, don’t worry. I didn’t go either.”
A lie.
I dressed up and waited downstairs at the resort’s entrance to see if he’d show up. When he didn’t, I trekked back to my room, tail between my legs. And not because I couldn’t go to a yoga class on my own; I skipped to do the rest of the class a favor. Those folks have been doing Acro practice in couples for a week, and I didn’t want to ruin the last lesson for everyone else with my odd number status. A pity, since there are no classes on the weekend, and this would’ve been our last Acro Yoga class together… forever?