Summer in the City

by Alex Aster

It’s interesting how love colors things I would normally hate into my absolute favorite shade.

I go to bed wondering how I let my life get so boring—and when I started noticing.

2,667.”

And I’m officially fake-dating the Billionaire Bachelor for the summer.

There are moments in life, I think, that make you grateful you didn’t just stay in your room.

“I bought the coffee shop because you love it. I bought it so that you can have your favorite scone, with your favorite latte, at your favorite table, every morning.” He leans forward. “I bought it because it makes you happy, and that, to me, Elle, is priceless.”

Parker’s on the phone. It sounds important. When he looks up at me, it slips out of his hand and cracks against the marble, shattering into pieces.

“You are, though. To me, you are. It’s like your mind and soul and body and everything was made for me. It’s like you’re perfectly mine.” “But I’m not,” I say. I’m not yours. I can’t be. “I know,” he says. “But sometimes, I pretend.”

He was my summer. And now, it’s over.

“Elle, for you, I’ll move the company here, to New York. For you, I’ll hire another CEO. For you, I’ll give all my money away. I don’t care. None of it matters. Not the way you do.” He can’t mean that. Besides, I don’t want that. “I don’t want you to resent me. I don’t want you to do anything just because you think I want you to. I don’t want you to give up all these things you’ve always wanted.” “I don’t do anything I don’t want to do,” he says. “And, Elle, just so we’re clear: I’ve never wanted anything like I’ve wanted you.”

“I know you, and I love you too,”

That’s when Parker slowly, eyes never leaving mine, gets down on one knee.

at the end of the day, the only important thing in life is who you love—and who loves you.”

“There hasn’t been a day, an hour, a minute, where I don’t think about you, Elle. I’ve watched all your movies. I know all the words. I’ve read every script, just to have your voice in my head again. Just to see how you think. I read your interview. I knew you lied about the question about home. I know you came back here to feel a whisper of what our summer was again, to try to find the happiness that hasn’t existed since.”

“I don’t want anyone else. I’ve waited two years for you. I can wait more. Or, forever, if you decide you don’t want me.” He pulls back to look at me. “I’ll be waiting every single day until you’re ready.”

“I didn’t fall in love with a version of you, Elle,” he says. “I fell in love with every you.”

Its diamonds are arranged into the shape of a flower. One that will never die.