Perhaps it was the feeling of being held in her friend’s arms, or maybe it was because of Mayte’s obvious distress, but now Summer felt her own tears forming.
Mayte had seen her fair share of violent acts.She had fled Cuba as a refugee with her mother and older sister when she was only eleven, and they had many harrowing tales to tell of their life in Cuba and their eventual escape to America.So, for her friend to be this shocked by the shambles that was Summer’s apartment showed how bad it must be.Summer had met Mayte at university when they both completed the same photography course, and they’d become firm friends ever since.But she rarely hugged her friends.And while Mayte was a very touchy-feely sort of person, she usually respected Summer’s need for personal space.Today was different.Today, she must realize Summer’s innate need for human contact.
“Come, sit down,” her friend directed Summer, tugging one of the kitchen stools upright and placing it next to the island bench.“It’s okay,” Mayte murmured.“It’s okay for you to cry.”And even though Summer tried to hold back the tears, that was exactly what happened.She hadn’t cried in years, and it was shocking to her that she could be this vulnerable.At least she hadn’t cried in front of Mårten.Her tears turned into sobs as Mayte handed her a tissue.Her sobs became louder, until she was sucking in great heaving breaths, the weeping taking on a life of its own.
Somewhere in the middle of her crying jag, Trent arrived, putting his arms around both her and Mayte’s shoulders and weeping right along with them.The three of them huddled together next to the island bench, consoling each other for Summer knew not how long.But in the end, she was the first one to pull back from the brink, blowing her nose like a snotty toddler.
“Oh, honey,” Trent said, dabbing at his own eyes carefully with a tissue that Mayte passed to him.“When did this happen?Please tell me you didn’t spend all night alone in this tragedy.It would be too much for me to bear if I knew I was out having fun while you suffered through this alone.”His expressive mouth turned down at the corners, and he looked like he was about to burst into tears all over again.
“No, no,” she replied, wanting to allay his fears, not needing another bout of weeping.“I wasn’t alone.I was with Mårten.”The words were out before she could stop them.
Oh, blast!But it was already too late.Trent’s teary gaze sharpened, his bright blue eyes now filled with interest.
“Mårten, hmm?Pray tell, who is Mårten?”
“He’s a cop.He helped me when I first discovered someone had broken into my apartment.He chased the guy down the street,” she answered quickly, wiping at her own tears, then throwing the tissue in the bin.
“Hmm,” Trent hummed theatrically again.“Ooh, I like the sound of that.And what does this Mårten look like?If he’s a lawman who isn’t afraid to chase criminals, then he sounds pretty hunky to me.”Trent moved away from the bench top so he could tilt his head, then caught Mayte’s eye and gave an exaggerated wink.“And you say you stayed the night with him?”
“No.Well, yes, but it’s not how it sounds.Summer rose from the bench seat, pretending to straighten her hair back into a neat ponytail, hoping to hide the flush of red that she knew was climbing her neck.
“Well, honey, don’t keep us in suspense.Tell us how it really was, then,” Trent crowed.Even Mayte was staring at her with undisguised intrigue, all tears for her trashed apartment now forgotten.How had this turned so quickly from her friends comforting her to an interrogation of the ninth degree?
“He lives in Sweden,” Summer snapped.“So you can both stop thinking what you’re thinking, because even if he is extremely good-looking, he’s going home in three days.”She gave a triumphant little huff, as if that solved everything.
Trent lifted his gaze to Mayte and, ignoring Summer, said, “Did you hear that?He’s extremely good-looking.”Trent was purring with satisfaction.
“Oh, yes, yes, I did,” Mayte replied with an expectant look on her pretty face.
“We need to meet this mysterious Mårten.”Trent turned to Summer and raised both his manicured eyebrows in a question.
“Oh, you two are incorrigible.Are you going to lend a hand to clean this up?Or are you going to hijack my love life?”Summer was tired of this conversation.
“Well, admit it, you don’t have any love life to speak of, so there is nothing to hijack.”Trent pouted his luscious lips.“And you know we’re only trying to help.Because we care about you, Summer.We want you to be happy.”
“I know.Thank you.”Summer demurred, consciously easing her hands open from where she’d been rubbing at her scarred palm again.She was overreacting.This wasn’t the first time her friends had played matchmaker.Try as she might, she couldn’t seem to get them to understand why she was better off alone.Bianca was the sole person in Seattle who knew the whole truth about Marco, because Summer only had the strength to tell the full story once.And today certainly wasn’t the day to discuss how Marco had left an enormous hole in her life, and how handsome strangers were something to be avoided at all costs.So, she changed the subject.“But we have more important things to do, don’t you think?”She waved her hand around the room to indicate the mess.
“Yes, sure, honey.We can talk about this later,” Trent said, not at all contrite, his smug look telling her he would not leave this alone.But for now, he seemed content to change the subject.“Look, I brought coveralls.”He dug into his large shoulder bag and pulled out a pair of blue denim dungarees that looked like they’d never been worn.Trust Trent to always look stylish no matter what he was doing.“Let’s do this thing,” he said with a flick of his wrist as he cocked his head in Mayte’s direction.
Summer smiled at her friends, watching as Trent pointed out Mayte’s mis-buttoned shirt, helping her to straighten it up.It was nice to have them here.Nice not to have to do this all on her own.And much as she hated to confess, she had Mårten to thank for pushing her to call them.
“Right, ladies, why don’t we start with your poor ruined couch.Once we get rid of all the stuffing, we might be able to see what else is going on underneath there.”Trent took command as he pulled his coveralls over his clothes.And so they got to it.
Serena arrived soon afterward, but this time Summer didn’t burst into tears, instead handing her another of Trent’s seemingly endless pairs of coveralls, and they got to work, talking as they cleaned.Trent told them about his first date with the scrumptious Zane, and how they’d shared a sizzling kiss goodnight on the front doorstep of Trent’s apartment block.He was taking it slow with Zane, which was why he hadn’t invited him upstairs, he explained.He was determined not to sleep with his new beau—even though the chemistry between them was insane—until they’d been on at least four dates.The girls all exchanged silent looks.Trent had a reputation for falling hard and fast, then regretting it when it turned out not to be true love.They knew he wouldn’t be able to hold back much past the second date.
Mayte told them about her evening she’d spent with a group of Cuban refugees.They’d invited her into their home, preparing a meal for her and allowing her to take photos of their daily lives.Of their daily struggles just to make ends meet.It was a sobering conversation, but an important one.Summer respected Mayte so much for what she was trying to do.
Serena told them about her date with the man she’d been using as the male model in her latest photo shoot.She was just as shocked as they were; she had a bit of a rule about not dating anyone she worked with, but this guy had been so charismatic and charming that she couldn’t resist.Serena had also been a model in her teenage years, but now she made a good living from the other side of the camera.
Summer plied everyone with hot coffee and some sweet biscuits she foraged from the pantry—which was decidedly empty; she needed to do some shopping.The locksmith came around mid-morning and replaced her broken lock on her front door, which made her feel much more secure.The cleanup took less time than she imagined.By lunchtime, they had most of the mess tidied up.Books and unbroken trinkets back on the shelves, plants repotted.Two of the couch cushions were still intact, but the rest had to be thrown out, and her couch sat in the corner looking lopsided and sad.Summer wondered if she could get replacements or whether she should just buy a whole new lounge.But the decision was too big to be made today.She straightened her bedroom, remade her bed with fresh sheets, and placed the clothes back in the wardrobe.Anything that was broken was loaded into a large plastic bag, which Trent carried downstairs to the dumpsters around the back.The only thing left to clean was her darkroom, but Summer wanted to tackle that alone.It’d take time and patience to get everything back to rights, check to see if any of the equipment was damaged, and only she knew where all the items lived.
Summer’s stomach rumbled loudly; the coffee and biscuits had not done enough to replace the breakfast she’d missed.Mayte flopped down on the two remaining cushions on the couch, while Trent groaned dramatically as he lowered himself into the single armchair, which thankfully was still intact.A surge of gratitude filled Summer, making her chest ache as she went to stand next to Serena, who’d taken a seat at the island bench.
“Thank you,” she said, leaning her hip against the countertop.“I couldn’t have done this without you.”
“No problem, sweetie.”Trent waved a weary hand in the air.
“I owe you all lunch,” Summer said.“Come on, I’ll take you down to Olé on the Ave.”It was a rustic-chic little cafe that specialized in tapas and Spanish sweet pastries, great coffee and even better cocktails, and was one of Mayte’s favorites.
