23. Jefferson
CHAPTER 23
JEFFERSON
I made a lot of mistakes last night.
I really wish I could remember them all.
I remember a couple of big ones. The first being starting a conversation with Zach Nelson.
But many of them are more a sense that I did something stupid rather than a specific memory.
For instance, there’s no way I actually told Scott Hansen that I wanted to marry his daughter, but I definitely thought about it, and I might’ve said something inappropriate about my feelings for her.
I roll to my back and press my hands to my pounding head.
One of my mistakes was absolutely drinking shots with Zach, determined to prove to him that no matter how drunk I was, my claim that I am madly in love with Harlow was not going to change.
I am absolutely regretting that this morning. I feel like shit. In a few hours, I’m going to have to start getting ready for my brother’s wedding. As one of the groomsmen, I don’t have all of the hair and nail appointments the bridesmaids do, but I need to be available to my family for any last-minute errands or tasks, and this evening I have to stand up in front of the town next to Carver. And not throw up.
At least I get to dance with Harlow. And kiss her. And take her home at the end of the night.
I’m definitely going to have to get over this need to retch.
Harlow won’t kiss me if I’ve been puking all day.
Speaking of… I reach an arm out to the side of my bed where she should be lying, even though I don’t feel her curled up against me.
But it’s empty.
I also don’t hear or feel any cats.
Which means Harlow is up and has fed our furry roommates.
She better still be here though. I want to see her before we go our separate ways for the next several hours.
I frown as I think about her.
Hazy memories of her coming to the police station to pick me up last night filter into my brain.
Oh shit. I’m eighty-five percent sure it’s a memory and not a dream that Scott called Harlow to come get me.
Then I sit up quickly—and immediately regret the motion.
Harlow punched Zach last night. In the jail cell.
After he told her the truth about my broken hand.
Those two things aren’t a dream.
Dammit .
I’ve kept the truth about my injury and missing the championship game because of a fight over Harlow from her and most of the town for years.
I’m not embarrassed by it. I’ve just always known that it would cause additional tension between Harlow and me.
Prior to this week and our fake relationship, the last thing Harlow and I needed was additional messiness between us.
The night I told Zach to stay the fuck away from Harlow and he’d asked why I cared so much was the first time I had admitted to any other human how I really felt about Harlow.
I’ve always hated that Zach Nelson was the first person to know that I was in love with her.
Honestly, until I had blurted it out to him, I hadn’t even admitted it to myself. It had come out of my mouth and I had been as shocked as he was. But the fact that it was true hit me a second later.
And I’d known that he was going to use her against me.
I told her I didn’t have any regrets about hitting him and missing the football game, and that’s true. But I do regret telling Zach how I felt about her. I have always felt guilty about poking at his jealousy and that it pulled Harlow into the stupid tensions between him and me.
I swing my legs over the side of the mattress. I need to get started on a hangover cure and get my ass in gear.
First, I need to find Harlow.
But as I stand and take my first step toward the bathroom, my gaze snags on a collection of items on my bedside table.
There’s water, Gatorade, ibuprofen, and a note.
I’m smiling before I even read it.
You’re so lucky you’re amazing in bed, because before I knew that I would’ve really enjoyed torturing you while you were hungover.
It’s followed by a little heart and a simple H.
I laugh. Not only because I’m sure a couple of weeks ago she would’ve loved torturing me while I was hung over. But also because I am getting a glimpse at my future. I know I’m going to have dozens of notes with little hearts and Hs collected in my bedside table.
I open that drawer now and drop the note inside.
I partake of all of the items left out for me before padding into the bathroom and cleaning up for the day.
After a shower, plus the electrolytes and ibuprofen hitting my system, I’m halfway back to normal twenty minutes later.
In the kitchen, I find bread and peanut butter sitting next to the toaster and another note that says Made you breakfast. Some assembly required .
I laugh and shake my head.
There’s no way I can’t be in love with this woman.
I find my phone on the counter and type out a text to her.
I assume I rocked your world last night and you can’t stop grinning, remembering it. And that you’re walking a little funny.
She answers my text within a few seconds. There’s a sweating faced emoji and then she says, that’s quite a dream you had. I had similar plans for you, but you passed out on me while I was brushing my teeth.
Yeah, that’s what I was afraid of.
Her: I take it you don’t remember the filthy things you said to me on our way up to the bedroom.
Me: Please remind me .
Her: Maybe this will keep you from the tequila shots in the future.
Me: If you come home right now, I can do my best to re-create it.
She sends me a blushing emoji and says, helping my mom with the wedding cake but now I’m thinking about THAT again so thanks for that.
I chuckle. You’re welcome. Want me to add a few things to it?
Her: No, I don’t. Not when I can’t get you alone for several hours.
That’s fair. We both have a lot to do today and the last thing I need is going through all the wedding prep with an erection.
Me: Okay, but all your dances are spoken for tonight.
Her: Ditto .
I grin. I like possessive Harlow.
Her: Also, the charges were dropped.
The charges. Now it comes back to me. Not only did Harlow punch Zach, but he threatened to press charges. That fucker. I would’ve happily gone to talk to him today about that.
Your dad? I ask.
Her: No. He doesn’t like to use his authority that way.
Her: My mom.
I chuckle. Despite his badge and gun, Peyton is much scarier than Scott. And another little bit from last night flickers through my mind.
Did I ask your dad if I can marry you? I ask her. I hesitate before sending, but then push the button.
You did.
Me: What did he say?
Her: That you have to be sober and include my mom next time you ask.
Yeah, that’s what I thought.
Me: I think you’re right about no more tequila.
Her: Regretting asking already? I know my breakfasts need some work, but geez.
I smile. I’m absolutely asking Scott and Peyton that question. And I’m glad Harlow knows that.
Me: Not that. I just cannot be on your mother’s bad side for the rest of my life.
Her: Good call. winky face emoji God knows what she’d teach our kids to get back at us.
My heart almost stops.
She’s just rolling with this planned asking-for-her-hand thing.
And kids.
She just talked about our kids . Just casually. Like it’s a foregone conclusion.
She’s either messing with me—which, honestly, is possible—or she’s practicing writing Harlow Riley on her notebook. Figuratively, anyway.
Then I realize a moment later that she will absolutely insist on being Harlow Hansen-Riley.
I grin. I’m suddenly even more in love, even hornier, and very interested in heading to the jewelry store right fucking now.
Maybe I can pull Peyton aside tonight and ask her for over-the-top proposal ideas.
Knowing her, if Scott told her about last night—and I’m one-thousand percent sure he did—she’s already got several things in mind for me.
I can handle whatever it is as long as the younger Hansen woman says “yes” when I ask the question.
With that in mind, I send Harlow one more text.
By the way, everything I said last night, I completely meant. Despite the tequila.
Even if I can’t remember it all, I’m not too worried. If we were talking about marriage and stuff, I’m good.
Her: So we really can adopt all three?
I freeze.
Adopt? Three?
I mean…
I’m not surprised at all that Harlow wants to adopt. That’s completely who this woman is and her heart is why I love her so much. So… yeah. Of course.
Three is a lot at once but it’s me and Harlow. We’re an amazing team and we’ve got an amazing family and a whole community around us to support us.
I definitely want a family with Harlow and any child would be so fortunate to have her. Us.
Me: We’d be kick ass at being adoptive parents. Three. Twelve. Sure. Of course. Whatever you want, I’m in.
Her: That was so the right answer. *heart emoji*
I look at that text and grin.
Then take a deep breath. Are these three babies? Maybe at least toddlers? Oh, God, what if they’re all teenagers? Actually, it’s more likely they’re a set of siblings she knows from work so…it could be a baby, a toddler, and a teen.
I run a hand over my face.
It’s okay. I’m ready. We’ll be great at this.
It is absolutely appropriate that Harlow Hansen would bring happy chaos into my life.
* * *
I’m feeling human again by the time the wedding set up really kicks into high gear, thank God. And my family’s excitement, and my brother’s calm happiness about this big day, seep into me.
Life is good.
My family is amazing, I love that Carver and Kaelyn are so in love, and I just love this fucking town.
I’m also really glad I have finally convinced Harlow of that fact.
Carver and Kaelyn’s wedding in the gazebo in the center of town, surrounded by any and every citizen who wants to show up, in the midst of the summer festival, is absolute perfection.
When they first suggested the idea, I agreed that it sounded like fun. But now, standing on the steps of the gazebo, watching my brother say his vows to his longtime love, and looking out over the square in the town where I’ve spent my life, and looking into the faces of the people—everyone from our Boy Scout leader, to my third grade teacher, to friends who have been by my side since kindergarten, to my parents and all of their friends, to the woman who I have fallen in love with slowly over probably nearly a decade—I can’t imagine a more perfect place to have the ceremony.
I catch Harlow’s eyes.
She gives me a soft smile.
It’s a just-between-us smile.
My heart clenches in my chest, and I feel a sense of rightness that only occurs when I’m in those rare but perfect moments that are not only just so fucking good, but that I’m tuned in enough to recognize and soak in.
This is how I want our wedding to go.
Right here in this gazebo, at next year’s festival.
“Jefferson,” I hear my brother’s harsh whisper, then Graham elbows me in the side.
I jerk my attention back to the gazebo.
“Do you have the ring?”
Oh crap. I dig in my pocket as the entire audience softly laughs.
I hand the beautiful diamond ring to my brother and he gives me a little wink.
I so appreciate Carver's laid-back personality.
“Quit staring at your girlfriend,” Graham tells me in a whisper. “You’re being obvious as hell.”
I just grin. I really don’t care.