That day, Wyatt had panicked. His father hadn’t been there, but his clothes had been. At ten years old, Wyatt hadn’t completely understood that someone could leave without their clothes. Then he’d found the note—the Tell the kid I’m sorry note—and even his ten-year-old brain had been able to comprehend that. It had even linked his father’s behaviour the weeks before to his father leaving.
The coolness; the distance. Almost exactly how Summer had begun to act before she’d left, too.
Then there was the hurt about his mother. That was darker. More complicated. More...
More.
He couldn’t think through it, or over it, as easily he did with his father. For some reason, it stuck in his head in the same way the hurt he felt about Summer leaving did.
Or perhaps, all the hurt had meshed together and now he couldn’t figure out what was what.
He stepped back at the unexpectedness of it, the arms he hadn’t realised were still around Summer’s waist dropping to his sides as his hands clenched into fists. Suddenly it wasn’t a summer’s night at a lodge next to the beach. He wasn’t holding his ex-wife under the stars with the sound of the sea crashing against the shore somewhere in the distance.
There was only the hurt.
It stiffened his body, had him straightening his spine. He gave a slight shake of his head when Summer sent him a questioning look. Her expression instantly went blank—the mask had returned.
They both took a step away from one another. He nodded his head now, and she turned, correctly interpreting his signal and moving ahead of him.
He swallowed, trying to ignore how it felt as if he’d been turned inside out.
It didn’t work.
CHAPTER FIVE
IT TOOK SUMMER a full hour to get out of bed.
She’d struggled to fall asleep, and at some point during the night she’d opened her curtains so she could be calmed by the waves splashing against the pillars that held her cabin up. It was gorgeous, her cabin. It had stained oak laminate flooring; white wooden panels that formed the V of its roof; chequered carpets in the middle of each of the floors; and the glass sliding doors that made up the entire wall facing the ocean.
She and Autumn would be sharing for the weekend. Since Autumn was only arriving the next day, Summer had the room to herself. She was lucky. If Autumn saw her now, she’d take one look at—
Her phone rang. Autumn was video calling her.
Great.
Summer sat up, brushed a finger over her eyebrows to straighten them. She didn’t bother with her hair; it was in her silk sleep scarf anyway. Attempts to fix it would be futile. At least if she wanted to avoid Autumn bombarding her with messages about why she wasn’t answering.
‘Hi,’ Summer said when she answered.
‘Hi,’ Autumn replied. Summer recognised her sister’s bakery in the background, which meant Autumn was likely calling during a coffee break. ‘You’ve just woken up?’
‘What makes you think that?’ Summer asked. ‘Is it my amazing outfit?’ She tilted the phone so Autumn could see the nightshirt she wore. She tried to forget Wyatt had seen and held her in it, too. ‘Or is it my fashion-forward headscarf?’ She straightened the phone again.
‘Both are fabulous, but I’m going to go out on a limb here and say you’re not wearing that to Mom and Dad’s fancy breakfast?’
She groaned.
Autumn frowned. ‘You forgot about it?’
‘No,’ she said defensively. A second later she said, ‘I’m avoiding it.’
‘Summer,’ Autumn said in that tone she used when she was annoyed but pretending not to be. ‘You can’t be there and not attend the festivities.’
‘Hmm.’
‘Hey.’ Autumn sat down on the bench outside the bakery. ‘You said you were going to give this a try.’
‘Because it means so much to you.’
‘It doesn’t mean anything to you?’
She didn’t reply.
‘Sun,’ Autumn said after a moment, using her childhood nickname for Summer.
Autumn had come up with it after Summer had started calling her ‘Wind’. It had been a joke because Autumn was a whirlwind of goodness. Successful, perfect. Determined to be the best at everything she did. Besides, it had seemed fitting, considering the season Autumn had been named after.
Her nickname had a similar origin story.
It had been their little joke, until one day Autumn had told Summer she felt as if Summer was the sun for her. Bright. Warm. Autumn was the only one who still described her that way. Sun was more suited to the person Summer had been before her father’s deception. Before she’d been forced to lie to her sister.
‘Mom and Dad are going to renew their vows tomorrow,’ Autumn was saying. ‘They’d really love for it to be a new beginning for our entire family as well. If you—’
‘Wait,’ Summer interrupted. ‘Did you just say they’d really love it? As in, they spoke to you about this?’
Autumn’s eyes widened. ‘I... Well...’ She went quiet for a moment. ‘We were out to dinner—’ this part wasn’t a surprise; Autumn had been honest about seeing their parents for a monthly dinner. Summer had politely declined her sister’s invitation ‘—and they’d mentioned how much they’d missed you. The real you,’ Autumn said when Summer opened her mouth, ‘not whoever you are around them.’
Or around you.
‘Dad, too?’ she asked. Autumn nodded.
There was a pause.
‘It’s been eight years,’ Summer said. ‘Why now?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Do you really not know? Or did they ask you not to tell me?’
The confusion in Autumn’s eyes was genuine. ‘No, they didn’t.’ A beat passed. ‘Why would you ask me that? They’d never expect me to keep something from you.’
Summer didn’t reply.
‘Sun,’ Autumn said slowly, ‘what’s going on?’
‘Nothing,’ Summer said.
But if she needed proof this weekend was messing with her head, Summer now had it. Not once since the affair had she given any indication that she’d known about it before her mother and sister had. Not once in eight years. Within minutes into this phone call though, she had.
‘Is this why you called?’ Summer said, changing the subject. ‘To check on my behaviour?’
Autumn searched Summer’s face, then she shook her head. ‘No, actually. I was wondering if you were okay. About the family stuff and the, um...’ Autumn hesitated. ‘The Wyatt stuff.’
‘What Wyatt stuff?’ Summer asked immediately. Brightly.
Autumn snorted. ‘That’s not going to work on me, sis.’
‘What isn’t going to work on you?’ she asked in the faux bright tone that made her own ears bleed. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about, Autumn. I am perfectly fine. But I must dash because I am terribly late for a fancy breakfast.’
She blew her sister a kiss before Autumn could protest, and ended the call. Seconds later her phone flashed with a message.
You used posh words. And a British accent. You’re not fooling me.
And seconds after that:
I’ll be there in twenty-four hours. Hang on until then?
Summer softened at the question, and typed back.
I can do that.
Autumn replied:
And don’t do anything I wouldn’t do while you do.
Summer smirked, and sent back a laughing emoticon, then a heart one.
Summer knew Autumn had been checking in because she was concerned. It was the same reason she was doing recon—reconciliation, in this case—work for their parents.
Autumn had never been able to understand why Summer couldn’t move on from it as the rest of them had. It was because Summer couldn’t tell her the truth: not only had the
ir father cheated, but he’d asked Summer to keep it a secret for months. Months.
He’d told her it was because of business. He had an important deal to close, and he didn’t want to complicate things by focusing on a personal issue. He’d put business above their family, and he’d had no reservations asking Summer to do the same.
It had made her physically ill. For those two months, Summer’s stomach had twisted and knotted. She hadn’t been able to eat. She hadn’t been able to be in her family’s company either. The affair had been an ominous cloud promising a storm, following her everywhere. And she couldn’t warn the people she cared about to prepare for it. Every time she was with them, she wanted to tell them to check the shelter. To bring an umbrella at the very least.
But she was caught between the business and her family, too. No, not the business and the family; her father, and her mother and sister. At that point, she’d been closer to her father than to her mother. Maybe she’d still been protecting him when she’d agreed to keep the affair a secret. Or maybe she hadn’t wanted to deal with the aftermath of her family finding out about her father’s affair.
All she knew was that it was the worst two months of her life. So when her stomach had begun twisting and knotting again in her marriage—when she hadn’t been able to eat and she’d seen Wyatt put business above his family, too—she’d tried to protect herself. She’d thought she had. But seeing him now didn’t make her feel so sure.
In fact, it brought back all her memories of their marriage. At first, things had been good. They had spent time together, and Wyatt would easily put off work for another hour with her. But then Bishop Enterprises had nearly lost Wyatt’s biggest client and things had changed. Wyatt had spent more time at work. When he’d been home, he was working. Talking to her father. And as Wyatt had worked himself into the ground to prove himself to Trevor—to himself, too, she thought—he’d changed.
She’d withdrawn into herself so she wouldn’t feel how much it hurt. In some ways it had been easy. She’d already perfected the cool, disinterested mask with her family. Convincing herself that she had to be cool and disinterested with her husband, too, had been simple. Painful though, since he’d been the first person since her father’s affair to see behind the mask she’d worn. She’d felt understood for the first time in years.
Until she hadn’t been.
Her concern now was that this little holiday was cracking her mask. Hell, after last night, with Wyatt, she was worried it might have already broken.
But it couldn’t be. She would have to glue any broken pieces back together, paint over any cracks. She couldn’t let her family know the truth. She couldn’t let Wyatt know the truth. She was more worried about that last part, because she’d always been vulnerable around him. Vulnerable Summer told Wyatt things he shouldn’t know. Last night was the perfect example.
If she told Wyatt the truth, the work he’d found his purpose in would look different. And he needed that purpose. He hadn’t had it growing up, and his life had looked dramatically different. He was proud of what he’d achieved now. She wouldn’t tell him he’d achieved it at the expense of their family. She wouldn’t taint that purpose for him.
She thought she did a pretty good job of fixing the mask when she finally joined breakfast. Her mother had arranged it for all their guests on the terrace of their significantly larger cabin.
‘How lovely of you to join us, dear,’ her mother said when Summer arrived.
The words would seem genuine to anyone who was not Lynette Bishop’s daughter. Why would they be familiar with the you’ve embarrassed me in front of people and we shall discuss this later voice?
‘I’m so sorry, Mother,’ Summer said smoothly, pressing a kiss to her mother’s cheek. After a brief moment of hesitation, she did the same with her father. The kiss, the hesitation, felt strange. Hopefully no one would notice. She intentionally avoided Wyatt’s gaze.
‘I struggled to sleep last night so I tried to catch an extra hour this morning.’
‘Did you?’ her mother asked, her voice softening as her eyes swept over Summer’s face.
‘I did,’ Summer answered with a smile. ‘Now, why don’t you catch me up on what the activities for the day are?’
She listened to her mother’s plans, ignoring the interested looks the other guests gave her. Most importantly, she ignored Wyatt’s gaze. She could feel it on her as acutely as she could his arms around her body from the night before. It was almost as if his look at me bet had been issued again.
‘Did you say—Did you say disco, Mom?’ she asked, snapping to attention.
Lynette’s smile brightened. ‘I said some other things, too—’ her eyebrow lifted, informing Summer she knew her daughter hadn’t been paying attention ‘—but yes, we end tonight off with a disco.’
Summer wrinkled her nose. ‘Can’t we call it a dance?’
A chuckle went through the guests, and Lynette’s expression turned into genuine amusement. Summer didn’t even look at her father. Partly because she knew his reaction wouldn’t be genuine, and partly because she was still angry about what Autumn had told her. How dared he tell Autumn he missed the real Summer? He was the reason that Summer no longer existed.
Sometimes she’d find herself staring at him, wondering if the man who’d so patiently taught her the ins and outs of the Bishop business was still there. That man had been honest. He wouldn’t have lied. He wouldn’t have asked her to lie.
She shook it off.
‘You won’t understand this, I’m sure, but discos were popular in my day.’
‘Your day is right now, Mother,’ Summer said sweetly. ‘I’ve never met another woman as on top of current events as you are.’
‘Oh, you’re sucking up.’ Lynette winked at her. ‘I like it.’
There was another round of laughter before someone asked her mother about where the disco would be held. Summer let a breath out through her lips when the question distracted her mother, then made the mistake of looking at Wyatt. He was frowning at her. She immediately lowered her gaze, knowing what he must be thinking.
She was trying hard to make their family seem normal. She’d done it before. And she was sure that to most of her parents’ guests, she was succeeding. But she could still feel Wyatt’s gaze on her. He’d seen her let out that breath after joking with her mother, as if the joking hadn’t come naturally. She was sure he’d noticed her hesitation before kissing her father, as if it was something she didn’t do on a regular basis.
He’d already picked up on something between her and her father the day before. He was definitely looking. She thought he might be seeing, too...
It instantly had her wondering if she’d fixed the mask as well as she’d thought she had. But a deeper, more destructive part of her wondered if the old Wyatt was back. The man who’d seen through her façade. The one she’d fallen for in the first place...
Summer.
She had to up her game.
There was a break between breakfast and the lake cruise her mother had arranged. Summer used it to take a walk on the beach. She hoped it would give her back her steadiness. But when she heard footsteps behind her on the wooden path that led down to the beach, she gritted her teeth.
‘Summer,’ a voice said, and her feet stopped of their own accord. Then her father was next to her, and Summer didn’t know what to do.
‘Do you mind if I take a walk with you?’
Summer swallowed. ‘I was hoping to have some alone time.’
‘I won’t keep you long, I promise.’
Unable to say no, she nodded, and they continued the walk down in silence. She wondered what he wanted, and, if it was nothing, why he’d come at all. She felt the tension grow in her shoulders with each step down; she could have done without that. In fact, she could have done without all of it, which was probably why she was hoping for something unreali
stic like her father joining her without wanting to talk.
It hadn’t always been unrealistic. She could remember instances when she and Trevor would walk together. Mostly during summer vacations. Largely to talk about the business. But it had been bonding time. And it had been enough for her.
She missed it.
Her heart ached at the surprise of it. At the longing of it.
She angled a look to the side. When she saw Trevor was looking out at the ocean and not at her, she allowed herself to look at him more freely. He’d grown older quickly. Or perhaps she thought that because she didn’t dare study him if she could help it.
His grey hair was stark against his brown skin, his tall frame slowly hunkering over itself with age. He was still a handsome man, and one of those annoying kinds whose age made them more attractive somehow. She wondered if he’d be more or less likely to cheat because of it.
The thought caused a lump in her throat to grow, which, of course, was part of the problem with her relationship with her father. She’d found insidious little things like that creeping into her thoughts all the time. Even when she wasn’t anywhere close to thinking about what her father had done. It made her feel as though she couldn’t trust herself. Or him.
She rubbed absently at an ache in her chest.
‘I wanted to talk to you about this weekend,’ her father said finally. She made a non-committal sound. ‘I know it’s hard for you to be here.’
She still didn’t respond; she knew this was a trick. No matter what she said, it would open her up to this line of conversation. The one about her feelings about what had happened.
Too little, too late.
‘I’ve let this sit much longer than I should have,’ Trevor said. ‘I think a part of me hoped that we’d move past it like the rest of the family has.’
‘Not a part,’ Summer corrected. ‘The whole of you, or it would have taken a lot less time than it has for you to mention this to me.’
Second Chance with Her Billionaire Page 5
