Chapter 31 – Harper
THIRTY-ONE
HARPER
“Hey, Laurel?” I ask, walking into the kitchen and biting my lip as I do. Wes’s assistant turns around from where she’s looking into a cabinet, a notepad in hand, and glares at me.
I was hoping the ice would break with Laurel and me at some point, but that has yet to happen. If anything, it’s gotten worse, her glares more intense and annoyed, seemingly purposely fucking with my shit or conveniently forgetting to get things that are just for me when she goes grocery shopping.
That’s why I’m here right now, though I’d rather be anywhere else. After the first time I told Wes that Laurel forgot to grab my creamer at the store, she continued to do it, no matter how many times I added it to the list. I mentioned it to her once in front of Wes, and the daggers she gave me while sweetly promising to get it next time were almost tangible. And since then, she’s consistently missed every item I ask for, to the point that I don't even bother to ask anymore.
When Wes found out I was going to the store yesterday to grab the essentials Laurel “forgot” to get me, he said he would talk to Laurel about it again since, while the paparazzi are slowing down a bit, it’s not uncommon to get stopped by one trying to get a juicy tidbit to sell.
But as much as I appreciate it, I don’t want Wes fighting my battles, and I think she might see that as my attacking her. Because of this, I told him I’d talk to her myself. Laurel is an important part of Wes’s life, whether or not I’m a big fan, and I want to cause the least amount of waves possible, especially now that we’ve decided we’re in this for the long run.
Today seemed to be the right time, as she’s in the kitchen, an iPad in her hands and surveying the fridge, seeming to make a grocery list for the week.
Perfect. I can just ask if there’s an easier way to add my stuff to her shopping list, and we can move on like adults.
“What?” she asks with a glare at me, and I sigh with the realization she’s not going to make this easier. I’m not exactly sure why the woman hates me so much, though I have my theories.
“Look, I’m not trying to make your job more difficult. I know you’ve been Wes’s assistant for a while—” I start, but she cuts me off.
“Five years,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest. “Longer than you’ve even known of him.”
“That’s so great, really,” I say with a shake of my head, trying to steer this conversation in a more productive direction. “And he really values you and how you help out. He’d told me how you keep everything running so smoothly for him, and I’ve seen it too. You clearly aren’t my biggest fan, and I get it. Really, I do. I’m some stranger coming in and touching everything, another person you have to keep track of, and I know that probably adds a lot to your plate?—”
“I only have to take care of Wes,” she says, her chin tipping up.
“Yeah, got that, but I also know Wes sometimes sends you out on errands for me, like when you had to help with my wedding gift, and, well, some of my stuff is on the shopping list. I just want to check in and see if there’s an easier way for me to add things to that list. I totally get that you forget it sometimes, so I just?—”
“I don’t forget it,” she says, clipped.
“I’m sorry?”
“I don’t forget, Harper.” A small smile spreads on her lips. “I just only get what Wes needs.”
I roll my lips between my teeth and nod, taking a deep breath to center myself.
“Okay, well, maybe it would be easier if I took over the grocery shopping then? Because it seems silly for us both to go to the store, you know? I really don’t mind taking care of it and?—”
“What’s silly is you being here,” she says, firm and annoyed, crossing her arms on her chest and leaning a hip on the counter.
“I’m sorry?”
“I just think it’s silly you’re even here. It’s fake, right? You’re married or whatever, but it’s not real. You aren’t his wife, so you should stop acting like you matter to him. Instead, here you are, trying to weasel your way into his life, changing things, adding more work to my plate, and I don’t even work for you.”
Anger is starting to boil in my veins, but I fight to tamp it down. Wes really values her, Harper. He’s done so much for you, you can endure this dumb bitch.
“I only ask because Wes asked me to.”
“That’s because Wes is nice. He’s doing a friend a favor by dealing with you. We all know it’s just to keep the attention off Riggins and Stella, but that’s not even going to be necessary soon, and then what?” She smiles wide. “Then you’ll be back to being a nobody, but I’ll still be here. You’ll be just like every other girl he’s dated.”
Blood drains from my face as she hits my own insecurities on the head, even if Wes has proven to me time and time again I can trust him. I think no matter what, I’ll always harbor the tiniest bit of fear and worry that I won’t be enough. I’ve worked past my fears, pushing them aside because being with Wes is well worth the risk, but you don’t just get over something like that overnight.
Laurel clearly can see she’s accomplished whatever she wanted and smiles wider. “One day, he’s going to open his eyes and see I’ve always been here for him. Until then, I’m going to have to endure you, but that does not mean I have to cater to you.”
In the corner of my eye, as she rambles on, though, I see the corner of a blue package in a cabinet. Where there used to be one packet of Oreos, there are four stacked neatly, something Wes will randomly come into my design room with—a quick cookie break, he calls it—and I’m reminded that I’m with him. He’s mine.
Clearly, Laurel wants my husband, and really, I can’t blame her, knowing what a catch he is, but I also know for the first time in my life that the man I’m with is mine , completely and totally.
I smile then.
“Don’t you think if he wanted you, you’d have him?” I ask, taking a step closer to her and crossing my arms on my chest.
“What?”
“You’ve worked for him for five years. How many of them have you been in love with him?” She glares at me. “And not once has he even tried anything? Shown any interest?”
“He keeps things professional,” she says, and I smile wider, remembering telling Wes we should keep things professional.
“Except when Wes and I tried to keep things professional since, as you pointed out, this was a fake marriage, he still couldn’t keep his hands off me because he’s crazy for me, same as I am for him. And babe, I’m going to warn you, eventually, he’s going to catch onto your little power trip, and he really doesn’t like people treating his wife poorly.”
The color leaves her face now, and she stutters before speaking. “What are you going to do about it? Tattle on me?”
I shake my head because I won’t be doing anything of the sort because the trash always takes itself out, and I’m happy to let her fuck herself over, but before I can, Wes’s voice echoes through the kitchen.
“You’re fired, Laurel,” he says. Both of our heads swivel to the entrance of the kitchen, my husband prowling in with a look of total anger on his face. “Get your things and get out of our home.”
“I—what?” she asks and even though I am a melting pot of emotions right now, I can’t fight the smile pulling at my lips as he moves closer to me, putting an arm around my waist.
“You’re fired, effective immediately.”
She takes us in, a united front in a way I didn’t know I always wanted, then her face goes from shock to disbelief. “Wes, you’re joking, right? I’ve been your right hand for five years, and this chick comes in and?—”
“She’s my wife,” he says, the words coming out in a growl. Laurel must have a death wish or something, because now she rolls her eyes.
“Your wife? Wes, be real. She’s only here to social climb because her little business is failing.”
Oops, definitely the wrong thing to say.
“Out,” Wes says, letting go and grabbing her bag before moving toward the front door. We both follow as he opens the door and throws the bag on the grass.
“You can’t be serious, Wes,” she says, walking up to him, her face transformed once again to some version of sincerity and friendship. “This is...this is all a miscommunication, a misunderstanding. I didn’t?—“
“You do not come into my house and disrespect my wife. You can come back another time to grab your things from your office. Contact Jaime, and he’ll set up a time when Harper and I won’t be in the house, and he will be here to walk you through. You can keep the car until then, but that is not your property, and I’ll need it returned at your walk-through.”
Her face goes pale, realizing how serious he is.
“Wes, we can—” Laurel starts, but he points out the door, jaw firm.
“If you don’t leave right now, I’m calling the police. I’ll still give you a recommendation due to our long-standing partnership, but if you don’t leave cordially, that will change. You should be happy I’m doing even that, Laurel.”
Her chin quivers, and she opens her mouth to speak once more, but she must see how serious Wes is being because she rolls her lips into her mouth and turns on her heel and leaves, grabbing her bag from the grass as she does before Wes slams and locks the door behind her.
The house is silent as he walks to the kitchen and picks up his phone, sending off a few texts in angry silence before finally, he sets it down and turns to me.
My stomach hurts from the anxiety of knowing I did this . Wes had a long-term employee he really enjoyed working with, and I ruined that. Maybe if I had just kept my mouth shut, he wouldn’t look as angry and hurt as he does right now. That’s the least I could have done, considering all he’s done for me.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper. “Wes, you didn’t have to do that. I could have?—”
“Excuse me?” he asks, and I can feel his ire turn to me.
“You didn’t have to fire her. You should call her, tell her you need some time, but she’s not fired. I’m fine. She’s been working for you for a while and?—”
“And you said from the beginning she was a red flag.”
I did say that.
“Maybe it was just because I thought she was into you, and I was jealous. She’s a friend of yours.”
“No, she’s not,” he says, voice low and firm. “And you’re my wife.” He pulls me in close, and I realize his anger and disappointment is in no way directed at me. “I told you no one talks to you that way, no matter what my relationship is to them. You do not apologize because you were right about someone. I apologize to you for not believing you the second you said it.”
I bit my lip, wanting to argue, but he shakes his head before pressing his lips to mine. I bask in the sweet moment, my mind trying to recenter and catch up.
“So, we need groceries?” he asks when he pulls back, and I smile.
“I guess?”
“Then we’ll do it this morning. I’ve never done a reset,” he says, and I look at him confused.
“What?”
“It’s Sunday,” he whispers against my lips.
“I don’t—” I start, but he keeps talking.
“So it’s reset day.”
My body stills at the small insight I gave him long ago and the way he remembered it now.
“Oh, we don’t have to—” I start, shaking my head.
“Yeah, we do, Harper. This is the perfect opportunity. We’re going to have a lazy Sunday and reset for the week.” He puts a hand to the back of my head, pressing my lips to his. “It’s a busy one. You have that meeting with Willa on Tuesday and two dresses due to clients, I have to go to the city with the guys on Thursday for release shit. We should start the week right.” Warmth fills me, and my eyes begin to water.
“Hey, hey, none of that,” he whispers. “What’s going on?”
“You just…you know me so well. You remember what my week is going to be like and what I once said I like to do on Sundays, and you’re making it happen.”
“I remember everything you tell me, Harper, because you’re important to me.” He smiles wide as my lower lip wobbles again before he kisses me and moves to stand. “You’ll get used to it. But before we do anything, I’m taking you out for breakfast. I have to make sure my wife is fed.”
And in that moment, even if I made a million mistakes and bad decisions, I know I did at least one thing right if it means I get to have this man as mine.