Don't Say You Love Me

Chapter TWO

  "Oh, Teegan, we are having a big dinner tonight. Francis is going away tomorrow for a week, for conferences, so we've invited some friends and family over for a big cook out," my mom calls back to me a few minutes later.

  Awesome. A big cook out my first day in Avila.

  "That's great," I say anyway.

  "My parents are coming from Santa Maria and my sister and her husband are coming, and of course, Lola. We told her to invite some friends, too, so you can meet some of the kids you'll likely see around this summer," Francis goes on, like he's doing me a favour.

  "Okay," I say, but it all feels overwhelming.

  Lola is Francis' seventeen year old daughter. She'll be eighteen in the fall and she lives about half an hour away from Avila Beach with her mom, but she spends a ton of time in the summer at my mom and Francis'  house.  I've known Lola for nine years but we've never gotten along. She thinks I'm an intruder, generally. I can only imagine what she thinks about me coming to her town for two months.

  The drive takes under an hour and it's only 1PM when we get to the big beach house. The neighborhood is all mansions on the water and it's pretty crazy to me, still. My mom met Francis when she was in California on vacation, a couple months after her divorce from my dad. She and Francis dated for four months before they got married and she moved in with him. That's when my dad got full custody of me. Francis has owned this mansion on the beach for fifteen years and my mom moved in, just like that. Now, their perfect little family lives here. And I feel like an outsider when I'm around them.

  I have my own room here, even though over all these years I've only been here one week each year. It seems unreal. But they definitely have rooms to space. That is not an issue.

  "Go on up, Teegan. Your room's all ready," my mom tells me, patting my back as we enter the massive kitchen.

  The house smells like vanilla candles and the ocean. It's perfect and clean and even though I know there's a messy play room in the basement, no one would know that by looking around the main floor. It's like it was taken directly out of a magazine.

  In my bedroom upstairs, I find out that my mom changed the sheets and blankets and even painted the room over the last year. Or, more likely, she paid someone to do it. Either way, it doesn't feel like a kid's room anymore. Thankfully.

  I sit on the bed and exhale. This is it. The first day of my whole summer, in this beach town that I've despised for so long. Mostly, I felt like this place took my mom away from me. I know that's not true, but it has always felt that way. Visiting each July was just a reminder that my mom loves this place, her new family and her life, and I'm just a visitor. Feeling like that now, at eighteen, is weird. I have my own life in Seattle, and I'll have a brand new life in New York in a couple months. I don't need to be wanted by my mom anymore. But it doesn't really hurt any less.

  I pull out my phone for the first time in an hour and see that my dad texted to ask if I got to the beach safe. I reply quickly - yes, all good - and then unzip my bag that I carried up here. Looking around the room, I know I should put my clothes into the closet or draws of the dresser. I'm staying for two months. But it doesn't feel right.

  For now I'll keep my stuff where it is. In my duffle bag, on the floor.

  I hear little feet outside the closed door a few minutes later and then some knocking. When I go over and open the door, I see my little half-sister, Josie, who's four. She was pretty much a baby last summer so just seeing her here at my door is strange.

  "Hey," I say to her, confused.

  "Hi." Her little face is so squishy.

  "What's up?" I ask.