Chapter 59
HARPER
Zac and I arrive home and walk to our door in companionable silence. The Havoc’s loss was brutal, and he’s pissed. Understandably so.
We come to an abrupt stop when we find a person in a hoodie, their face obscured, sitting on the floor beside our door. Next to them is a pathetic, wilting bouquet, looking like it was rescued from a dumpster, its once-bright blooms now mutilated.
The mumbling sounds vaguely like she loves me, she loves me not , as they continue to mutilate the flowers. It’s like the nonsensical ramblings of a crazy person, and to be honest, it’s a bit frightening. Zac positions himself in front of me, with his arm extended behind him, holding me back and protecting me.
“Jesus, man, you know this isn’t a good look, right?” Zac says to him.
I try to move around Zac so I can see what’s going on. The man jumps up, and his hood falls down around his shoulders. “Home. Yes. Game. Here.” I steel myself at the sound of Julian’s voice. His string of random words makes about as much sense as him sitting in the hall looking like a deranged homeless person.
I’ve spent the day accepting defeat. Maybe he’s here to demand surrender. If I’m lucky, we can sign a peace treaty and move on.
Zac directs his attention to Julian, then gives me a quick glance, checking to see if I’m okay. I’m in shock, but he must decide I’m not in danger. “Look, I’m not leaving. We’ve both had a pretty shitty day. But I’ll give you some privacy.” Zac unlocks the door and turns to look at me. “I’ll be in my room if you need me.” Then he puts his hand on Julian’s shoulder, and they lock eyes. “For a moment, you made me believe love was real.” He shakes his head in disappointment and enters the apartment, leaving the door ajar.
Julian and I stand in the hallway in awkward silence. His eyes take me in from head to toe. I’m dressed in Zac’s jersey and a pair of jeans, my hair in a messy bun. No makeup. Nothing fancy. But the way he’s looking at me? It’s unsettling. Compared to the flawless Hollywood women he’s been hanging out with, I’m painfully aware of his critical gaze.
Of course, I do the same to him. He’s a mess in a hoodie and jeans, his usual put-together look nowhere to be found. He’s a long way from the red carpets he’s been rocking lately. His hair looks like he’s run his hands through it so many times it doesn’t know which way to go. There’s even a flower petal or two caught in his curls. But when I lock onto his blue eyes, they look sad and weary. I get it. Me too.
My heart wants to lash out, but my head says, what’s the point? When I speak, it’s flat. Distant.
“What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be on some romantic getaway?”
He seems genuinely confused. “What are you talking about?”
“You and Madelyn? Airport? Getaway?”
One corner of his mouth lifts slightly. “We were coming here. To New York. She has an audition.”
“Oh.” Things aren’t always as they appear , my heart whispers. Shut up, my head shouts. It’s been weeks. Finally, my heart sighs. Why now? my head questions.
I look down, and his eyes track mine. He takes in the mess on the floor, and it must trigger him. His arm shoots out, and he shoves the messy bouquet at me. “These are for you. Sorry. I was nervous.” I don’t need his nervous apology. Or the flowers.
I take the remaining flowers from him. They’re wrapped in torn paper, and the tattered bow is destroyed. They look exactly how I feel. “Thanks,” I respond with a shrug. “I’m sure they were lovely.” Why is he nervous? I’m sure he’s broken up with women before.
We stand in silence until Noodle wanders out of the apartment. He walks around Julian’s legs, signaling he wants to be picked up. Julian scoops him up and snuggles him. “Hey buddy, I missed you.”
He missed the dog. That’s the last straw. “Why are you here, Julian?” He’s blocked me and ignored his friends’ pleas to talk to me. I’m confused. Tired. Heartbroken. Defeated.
“I missed you.” He looks at me, his eyes pleading with me to believe him.
I’ve been working my way through the stages of grief today and I’ve shifted from denial to anger. “But you blocked me, ignored me, shut me out. But most of all, you didn’t trust me. Missing me is kinda on you.” I lash out.
“You’re right. That’s totally on me. And I’m sorry, Harper. It’s unforgivable. And I’m not making excuses, but I was caught off guard, and you had talked about Charlotte being a revenge kind of girl and, well, no excuse. I was wrong, and I’m sorry. So fucking sorry.” His eyes search mine, seeking something. Answers? Forgiveness?
“I’m not Charlotte.”
“I know.” He lowers his head in shame.
I can see where he might be confused. At first, to him, Charlotte was me. But as he got to know her as a character, she came into her own. “I suppose that’s the problem with being a muse. It can get confusing about what’s real and what’s not.”
“You are the most real person in my life. You didn’t give up on me. Even when I was too stubborn to get out of my own head.” He reaches out and then drops his hand back to Noodle. Great, this is the let’s-be-friends portion of the conversation.
I bow my head in defeat. “It wasn’t me. I didn’t tell anyone.” That’s all I wanted to say this whole time. He probably still believes I betrayed him, but at least he’s heard the truth. Now he can close this chapter and go back to Madelyn.
“I know.”
I raise my eyes to his. My heart feels lighter knowing he doesn’t hold me responsible. “You do?” Is that why he’s here?
My wide-eyed look of surprise brings the ghost of a smile to his lips. “Yeah, I’m not sure how it got out, but I don’t care. It wasn’t you. You’d never hurt someone on purpose, especially someone you love.”
“You think I love you?” I say with a scoff and more sass than I feel. I waited for the right time to tell him, and well, it never came.
“I know you love me. Without a doubt. Hell, the entire world knows you love me. Because you do, right?” His hopeful gaze causes the protective barrier I built around my heart to crumble into dust.
“Guilty.” I shrug. Leave it to him to steal my love proclamation. “By the way, charges are pending for Professor Daniel’s assistant.”
She held the first meeting with Julian and did some unsanctioned research. When the secret leaked, I reached out to Professor Daniels, and he did some digging. They fired her, and the school is considering charges for breach of confidentiality. He has been extremely helpful during this time and is an honorary member of Team True Love.
He gives a half shrug. “Don’t care.”
“It was all my fault. I was jealous. If I’d only listened to you. You’ve told me over and over things aren’t as they appear.” I’ve spent a lot of time accepting my part in this series of events. I shouldn’t have left that message. I should have answered his calls. So many things I should have done differently if I wasn’t tired and reactive. And jealous. It’s still hard for me to grasp that this kind, generous, beautiful man loves me. Or loved me?
Now he’s looking at me like the cat that ate the canary.
“I like that you were jealous.” He’s coming back to life before my eyes. His smile lights up his face, a rosy hue warming his cheeks, eyes twinkling with joy. With growing confidence, he straightens, his shoulders broadening as he takes control of the moment, our encounter now fully under his sway.
We’ve been inching closer, like two magnets that can’t ignore their pull. Noodle gives a little yip, and we both laugh as he struggles to get down. Julian leans down and places him on the floor. He wiggles and walks away.
“I read the book on the flight here.” He closes the gap between us. The flight. The one with Madelyn, I remind myself. I take a step back, and his smile falters. “What?”
I’m shaking my head, trying to figure out what to say without sounding like a jealous harpy. “Madelyn,” I mumble.
His grin returns as he steps closer. “Oh, she loved it. Couldn’t put it down. She might use the final profession of love as a monologue at her audition tomorrow. Since she wouldn’t part with her book, I borrowed a copy from a nice lady on the plane. She’s a big fan, by the way. She gushed over the ending. I was intrigued when she said things that didn’t match my memory of the story.” He shrugs. “Besides, it’s trending on BookTok, and I needed to see if it really lived up to the hype.”
Of course it didn’t match. Since Julian wouldn’t talk to me, I rewrote parts of the book to have Charlotte talk for me. I changed their conflict to mirror ours. The aim was to make it recognizable to him as I shifted from being his muse to becoming the main character in the story. Charlotte’s words and actions? Mine. All mine.
The changes included Gavin blocking Charlotte and moving out of his apartment, giving her no way of reaching him. She was desperate to share her side of the story. To tell him how much she missed him. How her heart ached for him. How he’s her one. How much she loves him. That maybe instalove is real after all. She hadn’t said those important words to him before the misunderstanding, and he deserved to hear them.
Charlotte fought for their relationship. She dug her claws in and wouldn’t let go of him. Them. She used everything at her disposal, and then some, to convince him to talk to her. She even created a hashtag that went viral.
Of course, writing her point of view went against the assignment, and Professor Daniels wasn’t happy. But I needed Charlotte’s voice to say the things I couldn’t. And then pray Julian would read them.
“Sorry I didn’t run the changes by you.”
I watch Julian's self-assurance strengthen. “I liked them. The writing is full of passion, sensuality, and provocation. Charlotte is a fucking warrior, and I couldn’t help but root for her. For them.” His eyes smolder. He really liked the changes?
Changing the tone was challenging, but I treated it as a relentless writing sprint, the words pouring forth out of my intense emotion. They say keep your audience in mind when you write. In this case, I wrote this book with one reader in mind. Julian.
“Yep. She’s a fighter. I told you that. She’ll move heaven and earth if she has to. Especially when her future’s in jeopardy. Even if there’s another woman.”
“Her tenacity might be her hottest character trait. But there was never another woman. When you love someone that much, there’s only room for one.” The gravel in his voice kick starts my heart. Things aren’t always as they appear , my heart sings. Damn right, they’re not , my head cheers.
“What was your favorite part of the book?” I cock my eyebrow. “The steamy sex scenes?”
This time, I inch a little closer, my hand resting on his chest. Every fiber of my being longs to touch him, and I can’t wait a second longer.
He chuckles. “They were hot, but not my favorite part.” He places his hand over mine. I can feel his heart racing. Letting the remaining flowers fall to the floor with a soft thud, I gently place my hand on his shoulder, my fingers tracing the curve of his neck.
“Oh, you liked the grand gesture where she worked with his teammates to get his attention?” Life imitating art, so to speak.
There’s a familiar gleam in his eye.
“That was entertaining.” He chuckles at the absurdity of it. “And an interesting twist. I can’t imagine how she made that happen, but then, with her determination, nothing should surprise me.” His other hand reaches up and cups my face. I close my eyes and lean into the warmth of his hand. I relish the feeling of his touch against my skin, and feel my heart piecing itself back together.
“Then what’s your favorite part?” I ask expectantly as I search his stormy blue eyes.
“The happily ever after.” His lips crash into mine, and with that touch, he rights my world. I kiss him, feeling the warmth of his smile against my lips. The dam of my sadness bursts, and a rush of exhilarating happiness and joy floods through me, a feeling so intense it vibrates in my bones.
The kiss ends, the silence broken only by the heavy, uneven rhythm of our breathing and the frantic pounding of our hearts. I cling to him tightly, not wanting to lose him again. I can admit when he’s right and I’m wrong. He was actually right about quite a few things this time. But just one thing matters now.
“It’s my favorite part too.”