Summer’s Cove

by Aurora Rey

  The silent treatment was probably preferable to another fight. Even knowing that, Emerson had to stop herself from calling her. Just to hear her voice.

  She was in no condition to fight or make up. Maybe after some sleep. Things would work themselves out. They had to. Darcy was mad and Emerson was, too. Or, at least, she had been. They needed some space. She was enough of an adult to give it to them. She wouldn’t be one of those obnoxious and pushy women, making demands and forcing Darcy to push back.

  But telling herself that didn’t make her miss Darcy any less. Or Liam, for that matter. They’d started out as buddies, but her feelings for him had grown into so much more. Maybe not full on parental, but Emerson felt protective of him—she wanted to be his friend, but also his champion. One of the people who would help him grow into a young man.

  Clearly, lack of sleep was making her soppy. Emerson shook her head as she walked around her apartment, pulling the blackout shades down. She returned to the painting one last time, switching off her work lights. Then she crawled into bed, pulling the covers over her head. It didn’t take long for the fatigue of her body to overcome the swirling of her mind and Emerson gladly gave herself over to sleep.

  She woke with a start, only to realize through the fog in her brain that her phone was ringing. She reached for it, only it wasn’t on her nightstand. The sound seemed to be coming from somewhere in her bed. By the time she riffled through the sheet and duvet and located it, the call had gone to voice mail. She saw with disappointment that it was Will calling, not Darcy.

  Emerson chided herself. She was never disappointed to hear from Will. She waited a moment for the voice mail to register, but it didn’t. She swiped her finger across the screen and called her back.

  “Hey.” Will’s voice registered surprise.

  “You didn’t leave a message.”

  “I didn’t have anything important to say. I was just checking in.”

  Emerson rubbed a hand over her face. She’d talked to Will after the paddleboarding debacle, but not since. “Checking in because you miss me or because you’re worried about me?”

  “Can’t it be both?”

  Emerson sighed. “Yeah.”

  “So, how are you?”

  Instead of saying “fine,” Emerson thought for a moment. “Out of sorts, exhausted from work, but okay. You?”

  “Better than you, I think. Are you still avoiding Darcy?”

  Emerson sighed again, but this time out of exasperation. “I’m not avoiding her. She’s avoiding me.”

  “God, I don’t know which of you is more stubborn.”

  “She is.”

  “Easy there, glass house.”

  Emerson scowled. “I thought you called to check on me, not harass me.”

  “I did. Sorry. I’m off today. Want to grab a late lunch?”

  Emerson pulled the phone back to check the time. Just after two. “Sure. When? Where?”

  “Burger Queen. Three o’clock.”

  “Great. I’ll see you there.”

  Emerson sat up and looked around. Bright light outlined her shades. Everything was just as she’d left it, including the painting of Darcy. Emerson shook her head. She’d slept for six hours, not gone away for a month, even if she felt detached and disoriented. She stretched her neck and tried to shake off the rest of the haze. She crawled out of bed, contemplated another shower, but decided to just get dressed instead. It’s not like she was trying to impress anyone.

  She walked out of her building twenty minutes later. Even with her sunglasses on, the brightness of the sunshine made her wince. Between her weird sleep schedule and the fact that she hadn’t been out in a few days, she felt like a bit of a vampire. She laughed as she walked, grateful that Will had called and pulled her out of her cocoon.

  They ordered burgers and milkshakes and squeezed into an opening at one of the picnic tables. Emerson took a huge bite of her burger and sighed, realizing she hadn’t had a real meal in days. Will pointed a fry at her. “You don’t look so good.”

  Despite the insult, Emerson smiled. “Thanks. I’m okay, really. I get like this before a show. It’s always a scramble to finish one more piece, you know? Add that wow factor.”

  “I hear you. I remember the panic you were in the entire month before your first show.”

  Emerson smiled at the memory. “I don’t panic anymore. Mostly. But I do tend to work in a frenzy. I think I might be getting too old for that.”

  “I know what you mean. How about Darcy? No change?”

  Emerson rolled her eyes. “Giant. Fucking. Mess.”

  “You need to talk to her.” Will’s eyes held concern, but Emerson detected a hint of bossy older sister as well.

  “I thought I made it clear. She’s avoiding me.”

  “So, you’ve tried calling her?”

  “No.” Emerson had thought about it plenty, but didn’t know what she would say.

  “Texted?”

  Again, she couldn’t decide whether she was supposed to apologize or demand that Darcy did. “I reached out to check on Liam and she replied with like two words.”

  Will nodded. “And then what?”

  “Nothing.”

  Will sucked on her straw, a look of complete exasperation on her face. “What do you mean nothing?”

  “She didn’t elaborate, apologize, or anything. She basically told me I don’t matter. I’m not going to grovel for crumbs.” Even as she said the words, Emerson knew she would if it came to it.

  “Asking to talk isn’t groveling. And I know you’re saying it’s the show, but you’re miserable and work has nothing to do with it.”

  Emerson glared. She hated it when Will was right. “Okay, fine.” She picked up her phone and texted Darcy. “I asked her if we could talk.”

  Will nodded. “Good.”

  “You think I should grovel, don’t you?”

  Will lifted her hands. “Not at all. As the poster child for sticking it out in shitty relationships, I’ve learned my lesson.”

  Emerson frowned. “I’m sorry. I’m sure my problems seem ridiculous compared to what you’ve been through.”

  Will reached over and grabbed her hand. “It’s not a competition. And the reason I’m nagging you is that your relationship with Darcy has seemed like the exact opposite of shitty.”

  “Yeah.” It was the best relationship she’d ever had, especially after Darcy took away some of the rules and the boxes. That’s what made their last fight so bad. It felt like all the boundaries and walls were back. Or, worse, that they’d never really left.

  “You’re in love with her, aren’t you?”

  Emerson sighed. “Yeah.”

  Will nodded. “In that case, a little groveling might be okay.”

  *****

  Darcy looked at her phone. Seeing Emerson’s name filled her with equal parts elation and dread. The text didn’t reveal much, just a simple request to talk. It made her feel childish that she’d not reached out first, but she couldn’t change that now. What mattered was being able to apologize for overreacting.

  Darcy went in search of Alex and found her rearranging things in the pastry case. “Hey, would it be okay if I snuck out half an hour early today?”

  Alex looked up, a muffin suspended midair in a pair of tongs. “Of course. Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah.” She almost left it at that, but then added, “Emerson wants to talk and I’d rather do it in neutral territory.”

  Alex nodded. “Neutral territory is good. That’s how Lia and I hashed through our first fight.”

  Darcy cringed. Did being compared to Lia and Alex make her feel better or worse? “Well, I don’t know how much hashing we’ll do, but whatever it is, I don’t want Liam around for it.”

  “Take all the time you need. And you’re welcome to use our place if you’d like.”

  “Thanks. I may borrow your chairs out back if that’s okay.”

  “Any time. Are you…” Alex trailed off and Darcy wondered i
f she was wishing Lia were around. “Do you need anything?”

  The fact that she offered meant so much to Darcy. “I’m good, but thanks.”

  Darcy returned to the kitchen and replied to Emerson, asking to meet at the café. Emerson confirmed immediately. Darcy nodded at no one in particular. That was a good sign. Probably. She gave instructions to the kitchen staff, then spent a few minutes touching up her makeup and trying to get rid of her hat hair. When eating crow, it never hurt to look good.

  She walked out the back door five minutes before their scheduled meeting time, but Emerson was already waiting. “Hi.”

  “Hi.” Emerson offered her a half smile that said, if not apology, at least not more fighting.

  “Look, I—” Darcy said, but Emerson spoke at the same time. Darcy didn’t catch what she said.

  “You first.” Emerson waved her hand in deference.

  “No, you go ahead. You asked to talk.” That might help her gauge how much groveling would be called for.

  “I’m sorry I took Liam paddleboarding without your permission. And I’m really sorry he got hurt. You have to know I wouldn’t have if I’d even thought for a minute it might be dangerous.”

  “Yeah, but you didn’t think.” The words were out of Darcy’s mouth before she could contain herself. “I’m sorry, that’s not what I meant.”

  Emerson raised a brow.

  “I mean, it is what I meant, but that’s not what I wanted to say.”

  Emerson waited silently. She was prepared to hear Darcy out, or perhaps give her enough rope to hang herself.

  Darcy plowed on. “I was upset that you did it without telling me, but I would have said yes. You went in shallow water, you wore life vests, you did all the things I would have insisted on. I don’t blame you for Liam falling.”

  Emerson sighed, relief visible not only on her face, but in her whole body. “Thank you.”

  “And I’m sorry I flipped out. It was definitely a moment of maternal panic.” Emerson smiled and Darcy wondered if it might be as easy as that.

  “So, that just leaves the fact that you are shutting me out.” Emerson’s tone wasn’t angry, but the words stung.

  “I’m not.”

  “You are.”

  She was. She knew she was. But owning it meant admitting how much she’d let Emerson into her life in the first place. Darcy wasn’t ready for Emerson to see how much her heart—and Liam’s—were in Emerson’s hands. “I’m recalibrating. I’m just trying to get things back to the way they were.”

  “You mean when we were just sleeping together? When Liam and I were just friends?”

  “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

  Emerson took a breath and tried to slow her pulse. Was it a bad thing? That’s what she’d wanted going in. Darcy had been the one obsessed with labels and rules and boundaries. Emerson went with the flow. But somewhere along the way, it all started to matter. Really matter. She’d said it more crassly than she would have liked, but she’d meant what she said about feeling like Liam’s friend and Darcy’s fuck buddy. “It might not be bad, but it’s not what I want.”

  Darcy folded her arms and locked eyes with Emerson. “What exactly do you want?”

  “I don’t know, exactly, but I know I don’t want to be compartmentalized, allowed into little parts of your life as you see fit.”

  Darcy shook her head. “Don’t you get it? The reason you don’t know is exactly the reason I have to keep things compartmentalized.”

  “Would you feel better if I made you a million promises? That doesn’t guarantee anything either, you know.”

  “I do know. But it doesn’t mean I won’t do whatever it takes to spare Liam unnecessary heartbreak.”

  It was such a narrow, literalist way of looking at things. Emerson shook her head. “Is that what you think you’re doing?”

  Darcy lifted her chin. “I know I can’t do it perfectly, but I’m still going to try.”

  “And you think that’s what I am, a heartbreak waiting to happen.”

  Darcy didn’t respond.

  Emerson’s chest ached, but she didn’t know what would bring Darcy around. She contemplated flinging herself at Darcy’s feet, but had a feeling that would make things even worse. “Look, I have a lot of work to do to get ready for my show next week. Why don’t we take a breather until then? I want to be part of your life, and Liam’s. I don’t know what it will take to convince you of that, or if we can come to some sort of compromise.” She took a breath, then added, “But I’m not ready to throw in the towel.”

  Darcy nodded, her face impassive. “Okay.”

  “Tell Liam I’m super busy with work.” Emerson hated even saying that, because no matter how busy she was, she’d make time for him. “I mean, I’m not too busy for him, but it’s okay if you say it. For a little while at least.”

  “I will.” Darcy looked away, then down at her watch. “I need to go.”

  “Okay.” Emerson wanted to ask Darcy if she’d see her at her show, but she was afraid of what the answer might be. “Take care.”

  Emerson thought about giving Darcy a hug, or maybe a kiss on the cheek, but before she could decide, Darcy turned and walked back into the café. She stood there a long moment, trying to decide if the conversation had started to mend things or end them all together. Loitering wouldn’t give her any answers. And since she did have a lot of work to do, she headed home.

  Chapter Thirty-one

  Emerson kept her promise and didn’t reach out to Darcy in the days leading up to her show. She had plenty to keep her busy—finishing another small painting, transporting everything, deciding the layout of her work in the space—but that didn’t stop her from thinking about Darcy. Liam, too. She fell asleep thinking about them and woke up thinking about them. And just when her mind seemed to be consumed by something else entirely, they’d pop up, unbidden. It didn’t help that the painting of Darcy, nearly life-size, was a constant presence.

  The morning of the show, the gallery was closed and she was able to do a final walk-through. Although she’d signed the contract six months prior, before she’d met Darcy or even considered doing a large-scale piece as a focal point, the space was perfectly suited to it. The large square room had a single dividing wall in the center. She’d initially considered four smaller paintings on a single theme, but now she couldn’t imagine anything but the painting of Darcy anchoring the space and commanding attention from every angle.

  She wondered if Darcy would come. They hadn’t discussed it, nor had they discussed that Darcy would be featured in it. Had things not taken a turn, she would have invited Darcy to her studio, given her a private viewing before anyone else saw it. But those plans, and so many others, had changed.

  She did her best to stay focused. Will took the day off to help and, by some unspoken agreement, kept her attention where it needed to be. They chatted with Peter, the gallery manager, walking around and making sure everything was set. Emerson had decided to arrange things by theme, so she had a wall of landscapes, another with paintings of women, and one with men. She used the back of the focal wall to display three animal paintings she’d done—the turtle from her time with Liam, the tail of a whale from a photo she took on the whale watch, and a bird she found nesting near the beach. She liked that the works inspired by her time with Liam were the flip side of Darcy.

  Satisfied she was ready, she went home to change. Will followed. She’d even brought her change of clothes so Emerson wouldn’t have the chance to mope or fret or do any of the other things a moody artist with relationship problems might be prone to do.

  She put on the charcoal pants and vest she’d bought herself when she booked the show, gray shirt, and a purple tie. She indulged in a little extra time on her hair, using just enough wax to give it the intentionally disheveled look. By the time she laced up her boots, Will was ready and waiting. “You look great.”

  Emerson took a deep breath, blew it out in a huff. “Thanks.”


  “Ready?”

  “As I’ll ever be.”

  They walked the short distance back to the gallery and found Alex and Lia already there, arranging snacks and setting out the case of wine Emerson had bought. “This isn’t your first Gallery Night, is it?” Lia asked.

  Emerson shook her head. “No, but it’s my first time having a Gallery Night opening with a whole show to myself.”

  Lia beamed. “So exciting. I know it might be cheesy to say, but we’re so proud of you.”

  Alex nodded and Will slung her arm around Emerson’s shoulders. “We all are.”

  Despite telling herself a hundred times she was cool, Emerson found herself choked up. Partly because she’d never get to have her parents at a show and, even now, the desire to make them proud stuck with her. But if she was being honest with herself, part of it was Darcy. She’d really hoped to share this night with Darcy. She’d taken for granted that Darcy would be there and now that she wasn’t, something about the celebration felt hollow. Emerson shook her head. Now was not the time to wallow. She cleared her throat. “Your support means the world to me.”

  Not long after, people began to arrive. Emerson recognized a few former clients, some friends. Most were strangers—a few collectors, maybe, and tourists wandering the East End for Gallery Night. Emerson worked the room, chatting and trying to be a good host. Even with that effort, she remained distracted. Every movement near the door got her attention; each time it wasn’t Darcy, her heart sank.

  She lasted almost two hours. Long enough to see the people who’d come specifically for her, to thank them for their support. She did okay finding the right balance of soaking in and deflecting their praise. By all accounts, her opening was a success. But all she could think about was Darcy. That fact, and all its implications, hit her as she shook hands with a couple who’d just purchased the man in the yellow Speedo.