Page 37 of Summer Sweethearts
Sleep takes me instantly, and I dream of a future where every night is like this. The warm bodies of my lovers snuggling me as we build a life together.
MICHAEL
I’m in the kitchen the next morning, making Jess and Etta eggs and waffles, when someone knocks on the door. I run to answer it so as not to wake up the girls since they’re still passed out in bed. Opening the door, I see it’s Molly. “Morning, Molly. You bringing Bea for her car?”
“Yeah, and I wanted to make sure you were still wanting that house?” She leans against the edge of Etta’s porch railing.
“Sure am. Just tell me what you need me to do,” I respond, excitement creeping through me at the thought of living in that old house.
“I’ll meet you at the bank Tuesday morning if that works. Then you’ll be good to move in immediately. Have you told Loretta yet?”
“No, I’m trying to find a good way to tell her. Things are finally good with us, and I didn’t wanna take away from that with this news,” I tell her, running a hand over my beard.
“This will be good for you, Michael. She’ll be happy for you. I gotta get to Ted’s. See you later,” she responds with a kind smile before turning to walk down the steps.
I shut the door and turn to head back to the kitchen but am surprised by Etta standing by the couch staring at me, anger written all over her face, and her eyes filled with unshed tears.
“Morning, baby.” I take a step toward her to give her a kiss. But she backs away from me.
“You’re just going to leave again?” she hisses, and I look at her with confusion.
“What? No, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t lie to me, Michael. I heard you and Molly talking. You’re moving, and it’s gonna be good for you blah, blah, blah. You haven’t told me, that much was true.” A tear escapes her eye and trails down her cheek.
“You don’t understand, babe. I’m mo—”
“Get out,” she whispers, interrupting me.
“Etta, listen to me. It’s not what you think.” I move toward her again.
“Get out! Get the fuck out of my house, Michael. Now!” she yells, taking a step toward me and pushing me backward.
“Loretta, you nee–” I start again, but she cuts me off once more.
“I needed to not be an idiot and fall in love with you again. Of course, you’re leaving, it’s what you do. Leave Michael, or I’ll call the cops!” she screams, which brings Jessica out of the bedroom.
“What’s going on?” she asks as she rubs sleep from her eyes.
“Michael is leaving. We’re done. It’s over. I’m such a fucking idiot.” She leaves the room, heads down the hall, and slams what I assume is her bedroom door.
“I don’t know what the hell just happened, but you should go,” Jessica demands, her eyes shooting daggers at me. “Maybe when she calms down, I’ll call you,” she offers, sighing heavily before turning to follow after Loretta.
I nod, not really knowing what else to do. Slowly, I slip my shoes on, grab my keys, and head out the front door to my truck. Getting in, I start it up and pull out onto the road, the whole time wondering what the ever-loving fuck just happened. I know she overheard our conversation, but why she thought I’m leaving town, I don’t know.Shit, I’m moving just to the outskirts of the town to a house Etta has always fucking loved.
The plan was to get everything officially in my name and surprise her with it. I wanted to ask her and Jessica to move there, help me update it, and make it our home… together. Now my girl is mad as hell at me and won’t even let me explain what she overheard.
Pulling up to the warehouse, I park my truck and pull my phone from my pocket.
I decide to text Etta and try to get her to listen to me, at the very least, in a text.
Me:
Babe if you’d let me explain I promise it’s not what you think. I swear I’m not leaving. I fucked up years ago and I won’t be making that mistake again.
I hit send and wait for her to respond. My phone beeps almost instantly, and my heart skips a beat in the excitement that she saw and believes me. She just had a moment of panic and lost her shit. No big deal. I deserve that for leaving her in the past. She doesn’t trust I’m staying. I can work with that. It’s an easy thing to prove to her. Looking at my phone, I’m ready to turn around and straighten this all out, but when I hit the message button, my stomach drops, and I feel like I’m going to puke.
Your message was not delivered.
