A Summer to Remember

by Victoria Cooke

  ‘Goodnight, Sam.’

  ‘Goodnight,’ I mutter before turning around and speed-walking into the hotel lobby. I don’t look back and I don’t stop until I’m in the safety of my room. Ethan’s kiss lingers on my cheek.

  When I’m in the comfort of my hotel bed I can’t help but play snippets of our conversation over. ‘It’s a work hard, play hard thing.’ ‘I’m sure I’ll be back again’. ‘It’s different with you.’ I flip over, burying my head in my pillow. I’ve always been fine with the way I live my life. Thinking about Ethan is disrespectful to Kev and that notion sits at the bottom of my stomach like an out-of-date cheesecake. I give my head a shake, but Ethan won’t fall out of there.

  Why does doing the right thing feel so wrong?

  2008

  I wake up with a start. ‘What is it?’

  I realise Kev is shaking me. My heart pounds in my chest as my eyes dart around the room. Slowly, they adjust to the navy light.

  ‘Kev? What is it?’ I clutch the covers tight to my chest as I sit up to look at him.

  ‘Shh, relax.’ He strokes my arm. ‘I’ve been awake all night, thinking about stuff and I couldn’t wait until morning.’

  ‘Jesus, you scared the crap out of me! I thought we were being robbed.’ I shuffle backwards to lean against the headboard. He does the same.

  ‘We are.’

  Panic rises again. ‘What?’

  ‘We’re being robbed of our happiness.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘You’re not happy at the printer’s and this isn’t the life we signed up for. When I married you, I promised you I’d make you happy and you’re not happy.’

  ‘Kev, I am happy.’ I yawn. ‘I’m tired but I’m happy.’

  ‘You’re not, you’re miserable, I can tell.’

  ‘It’s not my dream job, but it’s fine, we don’t need to talk about this now, it’s two in the morning and I will be miserable come 7 a.m. when I have to drag myself out of bed.’

  ‘Things are going well at the brewery, I’ve managed to get our craft beers line into loads of bars in Gloucester and Cheltenham and we’re already a recognised brand in the Cotswolds. I think you could give up work and focus on finding something you really want to do.’

  ‘My boss asked my opinion on a font style the other day,’ I say with as much optimism as I can force at this time.

  ‘Sam.’ He turns me to face him and places both hands on my shoulders. ‘Don’t go back there. The world is our oyster, we can live off my wage for a bit until you find something you enjoy. Take some time to put a portfolio together and show off what you can do and put yourself out there.’

  I think about what he’s saying. The printing company I work for mostly designs logos and prints branded workwear for the building industry – it isn’t exactly going to propel my career in the way I want but the money is handy. On the other hand, I could spend some time putting some dummy campaigns together and try to get in at some local businesses.

  ‘We’d have to cut back, it wouldn’t be fair to you.’

  ‘Sam, you supported us when I was just the delivery driver. Let me support us for a bit now.’ He runs his hand up the inside of my thigh and it tinges beneath his touch. ‘You never know, we might start a family in the future and it will be financially impossible then.’

  The thought of quitting the printer’s fizzes through me, igniting little sparks of passion that I’d long forgotten about. ‘You really don’t mind?’

  ‘Mind? No! Sam, you’re wasted there.’

  ‘Jimmy doesn’t really need me there anymore anyway and his dog Mabel could probably fill in for me if he got a bit behind.’ I look Kev in the eye. ‘Okay, I’ll do it. I’ll quit my job.’

  He cups my face with his hands and I get a shiver down my spine. ‘You’re going to shine.’

  I pull him close and press my lips against his as his hands run down my back and under my nightshirt. ‘Kev, it’s like half two,’ I say, breaking off for air.

  His kissing becomes more passionate and breathy before he pulls away. ‘It’s not like you have to be up for work.’

  Chapter 16

  The next morning, I stay by the hotel pool to be sure not to bump into anyone. It’s for the best to not come back to Provincetown for a while. I need to give these feelings a chance to simmer down. There are loads of other places with beaches I can go where I can relax by myself without drama.

  ‘It’s self-preservation,’ I say to Bridget when she calls me whilst I’m on the ferry back to Boston.

  ‘From what?’ she demands.

  ‘I know you don’t understand, but the way I live my life works for me. It keeps the memory of Kev alive, and it keeps me sane.’

  ‘But what you’re saying is insane. It’s normal to like someone. It’s normal to move on’

  ‘You know what, the signal is really bad. I’ll call you back.’ I make a crackling sound from the back of my throat and hang up on her. I know people don’t understand me, and that’s okay because I don’t know how to explain it to them.

  Later that night when I’m in my bed back at the apartment, I take out a photo of Kev and study it. The man who made me smile, who never said a cross word to me, the man whose face could lift my spirits in an instant, the man who made me feel invincible. Nobody knew him like I did. Nobody knows what they’re asking me to replace when they make flippant remarks about my single status.

  The rest of the week passes fine. At work we’re in the throes of progress. The planning is done, and we’re overseeing different ads as they materialise. The guys from Rocks are happy with everything so far and it now feels as though the campaign is coming together.

  ‘There’s my star player,’ Patrick says as he enters the boardroom on Wednesday. I still can’t quite get used to the complete personality transplant he appears to have had and one day I will tell him how his initial rudeness was unacceptable. Right now, I’m just enjoying the job and loving the headway we’re making, and I still have my heart set on attending showbiz parties with Karma and Peace. ‘Fancy a working dinner tonight? Sushi?’ Patrick asks, barely lifting his eyes from the new mock-ups which just came in. I agree before I have a chance to mull over any potential awkwardness.

  ***

  ‘Am I early?’ I ask, sitting down at the bar next to Patrick. I’d told him to go on ahead whilst I freshened up at the office.

  ‘You’re right on time.’ He smiles and there’s a lazy warmth to it that I don’t understand.

  I glance around to see if there’s any sign of Tony or the others, but there isn’t and they left work when Patrick did.

  ‘Is everything okay?’ Patrick notices I’m distracted.

  ‘Yes. Sorry. I was just wondering where the others were.’

  Patrick fiddles with the cuff of a shirt in a way that makes him seem vulnerable. ‘Actually, I only invited you.’

  ‘Oh.’ A million questions race around my head but not one of them presents themselves coherently.

  He glances at the cuff he’s still fiddling with before looking me in the eye. ‘I just felt like we were starting to get somewhere at work and thought it would be good to get to know each other a little better.’

  ‘Of course, that makes sense.’ I let out a little sigh of relief as the waitress approaches us to let us know our table is ready.

  I let Patrick lead the way and when I’m behind him, let the air in my lungs puff out my cheeks until it’s all expelled. By the time I sit down in the small booth opposite him, I feel reset and ready.

  ‘You mentioned a working dinner. Have you brought something along you’d like to focus on?’ I ask, but unless he has some paperwork and an iPad stuffed down his pants, I can’t see how.

  He bats his hand through the air. ‘Oh, yeah. I just meant chatting through the ideas and building our relationship a little more.’

  This is a new side to Patrick. The question I’ve been dying to ask is bubbling to the surface, but I swallow it down. At
least let’s get through the appetisers.

  Patrick and I discuss the campaign as the waitress brings us two steaming bowls of miso soup and a couple of Sapporo beers.

  ‘Okay, enough about work,’ Patrick says, after we’ve chatted non-stop for a good half an hour and we’ve munched through several tempura rolls. ‘Tell me about you.’

  ‘There’s not much to tell, I suppose I’m one of those types who lives to work. I go out with my close friends when I’m in London and I have a cat, Coco.’

  ‘Oh, come on.’ He gives me a playful nudge. ‘I’m sure there’s more to you than that.’

  He’s grinning and for the first time, I notice that he’s actually quite attractive when he’s not belittling me in front of the team. He smells quite good too and I can’t help but wonder if he’s made some special kind of effort for this dinner.

  ‘I’m serious.’ My voice comes out all high-pitched and it doesn’t sound like mine. ‘I live alone, I’m single—’

  He gasps, in an over-the-top way. ‘You are single?’

  ‘Uh-huh. And …’ I lean in to whisper and I realise I’ve had a beer too many. ‘I’m happy about it.’

  I take a sip of water. ‘Anyway, Mr!’

  His eyebrows shoot upwards.

  ‘I have a bone to pick with you.’

  He groans and throws his face into his hands. ‘I know.’

  ‘You know! So why were you so rude to me when I first arrived?’

  He sighs. ‘I misjudged you. For years the same guys came over from the UK and we had a rhythm, then you waltzed in like some power-dressed super-bitch with new ideas and I thought you were there to ruffle feathers.’

  I splutter my beer. ‘What? I was trying to make a good impression and if you didn’t assume everyone was up-to-date with your abbreviations and wrote the dress code out properly, you could have saved me some embarrassment.’

  ‘I know. I’m sorry, I really am. I shouldn’t have said that, nor should I have put you on coffee duty. I guess us dinosaurs just don’t like change. You’ve certainly showed me what you can do now and I’ll eat my words, all of them. Just not right now because I’m going in for another salmon tempura roll.’

  ‘I forgive you. But only if you promise not to judge a book by its cover in future.’

  He holds his hand to his heart. ‘I do solemnly promise.’

  The waitress places two sake shots down with the bill.

  ‘Oh, come on. This calls for a selfie. Take out your phone and we’ll mark our fresh start,’ Patrick says, pulling me into the crevice of his armpit. Without the capacity to protest, I do as he says and snap a picture.

  ‘See, now I’m your fun boss and not your asshat boss.’ He laughs and I smile a little uneasily. This new side of Patrick is a little hard to get used to.

  The waitress comes over and begins clearing our plates away. ‘If you post that picture on your Instagram account and use the hashtag “Harborsushi” we’ll give you a free cocktail of your choice,’ she says cheerfully.

  ‘Post it,’ Patrick says and being a sucker for a free cocktail, I oblige.

  ‘Okay. Done,’ I say before glancing at the cocktail list. ‘Two Boston Sidecars please.’

  The waitress nods and disappears.

  ‘I’m having a really good time with you tonight,’ Patrick says.

  ‘Me too,’ I say, realising I haven’t thought about Ethan once.

  ‘Here you go.’ The waitress grins as she places two rather potent looking brown cocktails down in front of us and two more shots of sake. ‘These are on the house too.’

  I have a niggling feeling that I shouldn’t drink any more.

  ‘Cheers,’ Patrick says holding up his shot glass.

  ‘Cheers.’ I down my shot. ‘Yuck!’

  ‘So,’ Patrick says after his shot, ‘we make a great team huh?’

  ‘Yes.’ I smile politely. The room is dark and some kind of jazz singer has set up in the corner and started playing. It seems strangely out of context but I like it.

  ‘Two potatoes in a pie,’ he says. I glance at him sideways, unsure as to whether he means something different to the original saying or whether he does that muddling up thing on purpose. He’s watching the singer and there’s no hint of humour there.

  He shuffles closer to me in the booth for a better view of the singer. He’s so close that I can feel the heat radiating from his body. In the woozy haze of brandy and rum, I’m surprised at how comfortable I feel and so I watch the singer without shuffling away. I sip a bit more of my cocktail and start to feel an exciting electricity in the air. Patrick turns to face me. His profile is illuminated by the candle on the table. He looks warm and appealing. He glances at my lips and for a moment, I wonder what it would be like to kiss someone who wasn’t Kev. My feelings are all confused with the buzz of alcohol and when he leans forward and his lips meet mine, I don’t stop him. The reflex that normally kicks in doesn’t, and for a second I kiss him back, out of curiosity not attraction. A second or two later, I pull away.

  ‘I need to go.’ I feel sick. It could be the alcohol but it could be the fact I kissed someone. I did something I vowed never to do again and my heart is pounding. I feel clammy.

  ‘Sorry,’ Patrick says, ‘I don’t know what happened.’

  ‘It’s fine. It’s those free cocktails. I’ll see you on Monday.’ I grab my bag and bolt for the door.

  ***

  On Saturday I take the ferry to the Boston islands and explore. During our bonding evening, Patrick recommended some places to visit, so I decide to see more of the areas around Boston. He texted me after the night at the sushi place and apologised. He said he won’t mention it again and it won’t affect our working together which I’m grateful for. I’m still riddled with guilt but it cements the fact that I’m better off alone. In some ways, I’m glad I kissed Patrick and not Ethan. Kissing Ethan feels messier somehow and it might have meant the end of our friendship.

  On Sunday I head to Revere Beach, a vast sandy beach north of the city. I walk the boardwalk past the hotels and restaurants before setting up camp on the golden sand. There’s an old-fashioned ‘seaside’ feel about the resort, and I love it. I snuggle into my towel and take out a book when my phone buzzes. I glance at the screen.

  Where are you? BnH xx

  My chest tightens. Part of me wants to ignore it because I don’t want to have to explain myself, but that would be rude, so I tap out a quick reply.

  Stayed in Boston this weekend. Hope you guys are well xx

  I roll over and open my book, and my phone buzzes again.

  We miss you. Are you coming next weekend? xx

  I’m really not sure how to break it to them.

  I think I already have plans. Sorry xx

  Chapter One, I read. My phone buzzes again. This time I huff.

  Is everything okay?

  Since I got back from Provincetown, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about Ethan. He’s got under my skin and ever since the night he walked me home, I haven’t been thinking of Kev in the same way. I’ve not felt comfort in my memories and it’s almost like I’ve had to force them. The brain can only hold so much I suppose. I need to hit reset and get things back to normal because that’s the way I know how to carry on. It pains me to do this, especially since they’ve been so good to me, but there’s no other option. I have to tell them.

  Guys, I don’t think I’m going to come over for a while. You’ve both been great and I love spending time with you, but I have so much on at work and I want to see a little bit more around Boston before I go back to the UK. You should come for a night out in the city before I leave, and I’d love you to come over to London when I’m back there – it will be so much fun. xx

  My phone goes quiet and, tentatively, I start reading again.

  Chapter 17

  ‘As project leader, you need to sort this out now.’ Patrick’s words are stern and final and the fact he’s the same guy who kissed me just a few days ago is har
d to believe. He marches out of the boardroom, leaving everyone gawping at me. Apparently, the people from Rocks don’t think we’ve expanded the campaign enough. We’ve based everything around the footage I shot on the beach, only we used a range of models instead of Kayla, and professional film crews and photographers. We even hired some local skateboarders for the out-of-focus shots, and it was all done at one of the local beaches. We had, or so I thought, plenty of material. Patrick is right to be cross. This entire project has my name on it and if it fails and Pink Apple lose this contract, my career could be over and then what will I have? The thought gives me palpitations.

  ‘What are you looking at? Get brainstorming,’ I yell to the seven sets of eyes still on me.

  Carl raises his hand. ‘I’m not sure where we go from here. Do we look at other sports? These people are hard to read.’

  I shake my head. ‘I think we need to branch out further than that. We’re covering the teen age-range. The material we have so far is still at the lower end of that. I say we think about incorporating some older models and have a wider range of activities. Let’s take the afternoon to get some ideas down and report back tomorrow.’

  It’s a miserable week and by Friday, we have some ideas but nothing mind-blowing, and what the internet has taught me about the men who own Rocks, is that anything less than mind-blowing simply won’t do. We’ve added basketball, track, cheerleading and dancing to the original mix and Patrick thinks a big gig scene might crank the campaign up a notch. With a few older models, it could work, but I’m hardly feeling excited about it. There really is only one thing I can do if I’m going to save this project. I need to go back to the place that inspired me the first time and talk to the person who inspired me.

  ***

  It’s been two weeks since I last spoke to Harry and Barney. I didn’t hear back after I texted them from the beach but they have liked a few of my Instagram posts and things since. I can’t wait to see them but I’m a little worried that they might feel like I ditched them when I stayed in Boston for the last couple of weekends, so as I stand here on the doorstep with my hand hovering over the knocker, my apprehension is palpable.