Never Been Worse (Evergreen Park #3)

Chapter 33 – Harper

THIRTY-THREE

HARPER

My blissful little bubble barely lasts two more days. Two days after the most perfect Sunday known to mankind, Wes leaves our bed before the sun rises for his run, pressing a kiss to my lips. When he returns, he drags me out of bed and into the shower, eating me out before fucking me on the bench.

We get dressed together before he heads off to Ashford to meet up with the band at the studio on Riggins’ property. When I finally shuffle down to the kitchen, I stare into the fridge, realizing I am, ironically, out of my creamer. Instead of running to the store, I add it to our grocery list and decide to get a little treat at my favorite coffee shop in Evergreen Park.

That was my first mistake.

My second was standing at the counter, waiting for my coffee and not running the second I heard Jeremy’s voice.

“Harper,” he greets, stepping beside me.

My head snaps toward him, and when I take him in, I realize how terrible he looks. Tired and worn down, his shirt wrinkled. When we were together, he never left the home without looking completely put together. I used to help him with that, making sure his things were taken to the cleaners, laying out his outfits, and ironing his shirts as needed. I doubt Clarissa makes sure he goes to bed at a reasonable hour, lines up the supplements he uses, or makes his lunches.

A bolt of satisfaction rips through me, knowing he’s a mess without me, but it melts away the moment he says, “We need to talk.” I’d forgotten about the letter Jeremy put into my box of things until I was putting away the few items I still cared for. Upon opening it, Jeremy’s familiar writing instructed me to call him so we could talk, but I rolled my eyes at his self-importance and shoved it in a drawer, never thinking of it again.

But now I’m wondering if maybe I should have given the note my full attention.

“Jeremy, I’m not doing this. We have nothing to say to each other. I’m trying to get my coffee, go home, and get on with my day. Please, I’m begging you not to ruin what has already been a pretty great fucking day.” As seems to be his way, Jeremy ignores everything I say.

“I saw the design Holden posted. The centerpiece to Clarissa’s line,” he starts, and my blood goes cold, the breath stalling in my lungs. “And the new one you’re working on.” I turn my head slowly toward him. “I want them.”

“You’re insane,” I whisper, and he tips his head to the side.

“Am I?”

“If you think I’m going to just give you more designs? Yes. You’re out of your mind.”

“I think you’ll find you’re much more amenable than you think,” he says. I roll my eyes at his audacity.

“We have nothing to talk about—” I start, still staring straight ahead as I do, but his next words have my blood going cold, my body turning toward him slowly.

“I know about everything. A sweet little bird told me all about your agreement with Holden. That assistant you got fired?” The breath in my lungs stutters, and I stare at him open-mouthed and watch as a small, vindictive smile spreads on his lips. “Now, if you don’t agree to sit at a table with me and talk, every tabloid and newspaper in the tri-state area is going to know the real reason the band is taking a break.” My blood goes still in my veins as he stares at me. “That’s before it goes national, of course.”

I’m trapped in a corner, once again at Jeremy’s mercy, and I don’t know what I did to deserve this.

“Harper?” The barista calls my name, and stiffly, I move to grab the coffee I know I probably won’t be able to drink, not with the way my stomach is roiling. At the very least, I know I have to play the game, sit with him, and let him spill his bullshit.

I turn on my heel, spotting a small table in the corner, and move toward it quickly while Jeremy takes his sweet fucking time pulling out his chair and sitting.

He sits with his arms crossed on his chest, leaning back like he owns the world, before he finally speaks.

“You know, she really hates you,” he says with a shit-eating grin as if the mere idea of some random woman hating me brings him joy. “So much so, she sought me out. She called me up and told me everything. How your marriage is fake, Stella’s pregnancy, the worries about what the press will say.” Nausea churns in my stomach, and I hold the coffee in my hands, letting the warmth sink into my cold hands to ground me. “God, she even told me that her former boss hired a private investigator to look into me.”

My mind churns with this news, something Wes never told me, but I try not to show my lack of insight as he keeps rambling.

“Not sure what he’d find, of course.” But for a flash, his face shows anxiety that they will find something . I spent so much time with Jeremy, reading into his every move and facial change, I can see there’s something he doesn’t want anyone to know.

I also know from that look alone he’ll do almost anything to keep his secret safe, which is terrifying.

“Whatever they find, it can’t be worse than trying to save your reputation by marrying some has-been rock star. Or worse, marrying some loser seamstress to hide your friend’s bullshit.” I let his insults roll right off my back, knowing he’s looking for a reaction I refuse to give him.

He’s taken enough from me, and I have a feeling he’s only going to try and take more.

“What do you want, Jeremy?” I ask with a bored tone. He shifts with my words, not expecting this version of me, the one who doesn’t back down, who is tired of being used.

“I want you to call off your dogs,” he says quickly. “Your fake little rock star is looking into shit he shouldn’t be looking into, and I want him to stop.”

“What are you so afraid he’s going to find?” I ask, intrigued, and watch as the mask of joviality and faux friendship melts off his face. “You have nothing to hide, right?”

“Nothing, of course,” he says with a laugh. He forgets, I think, how long we were together and the way I am well-tuned to the way he laughs when he lies. “But I don’t like the idea of him looking into me. What you should be afraid of is me telling the world that Riggins Greene is back on the bottle and in rehab again, which is why they really needed to delay the tour.”

“That’s not—” I start with a shake of my head, but he steamrolls past me.

“I wonder how the stress of that will go for Stella and her pregnancy? All the paparazzi hounding her, asking her about her husband, digging up old wounds. You know, I’m sure there’s something she doesn’t know from when they were apart, some bitch he fucked, some charge he paid off,” he says, and my pulse starts racing. “Or you know, someone could just plant something. It doesn’t really matter if it’s true or not these days, as you know.”

“You can’t just lie, Jeremy. It impacts people. People who have nothing to do with you,” I say. “Leave them out of your shit.” Although I’m mad and nervous, I try to remind myself Stella and Riggins are about to announce their pregnancy anyway, and with her belly just barely showing now, they even took professional photos to share. It would discredit whatever Jeremy plans to spread.

“What about Ava and Jules?” he asks.

“What?” I ask, my words faint.

“I have a friend down at the Evergreen Police Department. He’s been creating a file for me. Criminal harassment and stalking?—”

I roll my eyes and shake my head. “We already handled this, Jeremy. You can’t?—”

“The card that went viral? And the wrapping of my car?” I close my eyes and breathe in deep, fighting the nausea that takes over. I knew we shouldn’t have done that. I knew I should have left it alone, buried it, that somehow, like all the good things in my life, it would lead to disaster.

I gave him ammunition to destroy me again.

But then again, although I’d convinced myself otherwise, a small part of me had a feeling that if Jeremy knew I was designing, I don’t know if he ever would have stopped his blackmailing.

Suddenly, I realize being free of him was all an illusion: he is planning to keep me under his thumb forever. As soon as he saw I had talent and also a weakness—loving my friends and being willing to do anything to protect them—I gave up any power I had.

“You can’t prove it was me,” I whisper, not so sure about that. “And you definitely can’t prove it was them because they weren’t even a part of any of that.”

He shakes his head with the same smug smile still plastered to his face.

“That doesn’t really matter, not when you have friends in high places the way I do, not when there is documented history. As seems to be your way, you just pissed off one too many people while rampaging through their lives, and now you’re going to take them down with you.”

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. “What do you want?”

The entertained look drops from his face, shifting to something mean and angry as he leans in. “Drop the investigator and give me what you’re working on. I want the piece you left out the first time.” Fine. If that’s what I have to do, whatever, I can make more. I can— “And get a divorce from Holden. He knows too much, and he’s digging into things he shouldn’t.”

My mouth drops open, and I shake my head frantically. “No,” I whisper. “I won’t do that.”

He leans back in his chair and gives me a pitying look. “Aww, did you get a little too attached to him, Harper? You never were very good at separating business and pleasure, were you?” I bite back a response, knowing the faster I get out of here, the better. “Do it, Harper. Either you agree to my terms, or I’ll alert the press today.”

I shake my head again, knowing even if I wanted to, it wouldn’t be that easy.

“He’s not going to just accept my breaking up with him, Jeremy,” I say, my pulse racing, my head going light with panic. “What am I supposed to say? We have an agreement in place.”

Maybe the basics will convince him. If Jeremy knows about the fake marriage, he must know there’s a contract in place.

“Find a way.”

“Jeremy, how am I supposed to do that? You don’t understand, he’s not going to just…” I trail off because I don’t want or need him to know just how real things have gotten with Wes. I don’t need another person on his radar to destroy.

“That’s your problem, Harper. Make something up. Tell him you’re tired of him, tell him you want out, tell him you hate him. I don’t know, and honestly, Harper, I don’t care. I want this fucker off my ass, and I want to erase all of this bullshit.” The room starts to spin as I face the reality of the mess I’m in, but some other part of me, the one who wants to somehow salvage everything, to protect the people I love, kicks in and nods.

“How long do I have?” I whisper, praying for just one more night with Wes. Just one where I can savor him and love him before it all falls apart.

A wicked smile spreads on his lips, and I know my desperate plea will go unanswered.

“I want rumors of the breakup in the tabloids by tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” I ask, wide-eyed.

“Make it happen, Harper,” he says, then stands up, grabs his jacket and the coffee I’m still cradling, and walks out.

I watch him leave, my mind reeling, before I stand up, order a new coffee, and call my best friends.