Chapter 27
TWENTY-SEVEN
The next day, I was not at all surprised when my parents showed up with groceries, more toys than I knew what to do with, and Ava in tow.
“I figured you could use a nice home-cooked meal after that big win yesterday,” Mom said as she walked past me.
“Couldn’t stop her if I’d tried. Now where’s my sweet grand baby?” Dad asked as he glanced past me to where Rory was sitting in the swing they’d bought for her. She loved that thing, and it worked miracles when it came to settling her—unlike my tragic attempts at singing.
Ava smiled as she closed the door behind them. “Mom texted me when they were five minutes away and insisted on it being a surprise.”
“Oh yeah, it’s a real surprise when she does this every weekend she can. Gordy and Liam have gotten used to getting Mom’s home-cooked meals now.”
Ava laughed but she got it.
And truthfully, we were lucky. We had two loving and supportive parents who were always there for us. It was more than a lot of people had and I wasn’t going to take it for granted.
By early evening, my mother had staged a complete kitchen takeover, producing a lasagna that made the entire house smell like a high-end Italian restaurant.
She’d been dropping hints about “settling down” all afternoon, as if dating was anywhere on my priority list when I had school to juggle and a daughter to raise.
When the doorbell rang, I sent up a silent thank you for the distraction.
“I’ll get it,” Ava said, giving me a wink like she knew she was stealing my chance to escape.
A moment later, I heard Harper’s voice, and my heart did a pathetic little tap dance. “Sorry to bother you,” she said, “but the delivery guy left this package for Liam at our house by mistake.”
Before I could intercept this disaster in progress, Ava was leading Harper into the living room. Her hair was pulled back in a messy bun with curls escaping like they were making a break for freedom.
“Harper,” I said, trying to sound casual instead of as if I was having a minor coronary. “Hey.”
“Hey,” she replied, holding a box in her hand. “Delivery mix-up. I figured it might be—”
Her words died as she spotted my parents. The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees in an instant. Dad’s spine went ramrod straight, and Mom’s smile froze on her face like she’d just seen a ghost.
“Harper Tinsley,” Dad said, his voice carefully neutral but with an undercurrent of tension I recognized from every business negotiation I’d ever seen him conduct.
Harper raised her chin slightly. “Hello, Mr. Dumontier.”
The silence that followed was excruciating. Of course, Rory chose that moment to squeal and give her gummy, toothless smile to one of her favorite people.
The tension in Harper’s face melted away as she smiled at my daughter, and my chest ached at how easily she loved on her. “Hey, little one.”
When she looked back up, the stiffness around her eyes returned. “I should go,” Harper said, placing Liam’s package on the side table. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your family time.”
“Nonsense,” Mom said, her voice strained but making a visible effort. She exchanged a quick glance with Dad before continuing. “You’re already here. Why don’t you join us for dinner?”
I nearly choked on my own spit. Mom inviting a Tinsley to dinner was like the Pope inviting a vampire to Easter Sunday mass.
“Oh, I couldn’t—” Harper started.
“I insist,” Mom said with a smile that looked painfully forced. “Any…friend…of Drew’s is welcome at our table.”
The way she hesitated before the word “friend” spoke volumes. This wasn’t about hospitality—this was reconnaissance. My mother wanted to figure out exactly what was going on between me and a Tinsley. Dad’s expression suggested he’d rather eat glass, but he gave a short nod of agreement.
“There’s plenty of food,” I said, suddenly desperate for Harper to stay, if only to prove that the universe wouldn’t implode if a Dumontier and a Tinsley broke bread together. “But no pressure.”
Harper hesitated, her eyes meeting mine with a question in them that I couldn’t quite decipher. “Uh, if you insist.”
“We do,” Mom said with that forced smile, even though her words came across as kind. Then Harper smiled—a real smile, not the tense one she’d been wearing since spotting my parents.
“Thank you, Mrs. Dumontier.”
“Ellen,” Mom corrected automatically, though I could tell she immediately regretted the familiarity. “You can call me Ellen.”
As Mom led Harper to the table—with the stiff formality of a hostage negotiation—Dad sidled up beside me, keeping his voice low.
“A Tinsley,” he said, not a question but an accusation. “John Tinsley’s daughter is bringing packages to your door and cooing at my granddaughter? What exactly is going on here, Drew?”
“It’s not what you think,” I said automatically, though I wasn’t entirely sure what he thought. “We got paired together on a huge psychology project, so she’s been coming over here to work on it since it’s easier with Rory.”
Dad’s eyebrow arched so high it nearly disappeared into his hairline. “Watch yourself. That family has been looking for ways to undermine us for three generations. This project of yours could be their newest angle.”
“Dad, it’s just a psychology class.”
He didn’t look convinced. “Just be careful. Tinsleys can’t be trusted.”
I nodded to appease him, but at some point in the last few weeks, I’d stopped believing that particular family mantra.
Dinner was simultaneously better and worse than I’d anticipated.
Better, because Harper was absolutely killing it, somehow managing to navigate the minefield of decades-old family resentment with the grace of a diplomat.
She talked about her music therapy program with such passion that even Ava couldn’t help leaning forward with interest. She asked thoughtful questions about my parents’ lives in Meadowbrook that carefully skirted any mention of business rivalries, and she complimented my mother’s lasagna with such genuine enthusiasm that Mom’s icy resolve began to crack.
But also worse because the tension was thick enough to cut with a chainsaw, and because every time Harper spoke, my father’s jaw clenched like he was getting dental work without anesthesia.
Then Dad decided to poke the sleeping bear with a stick.
“So, Harper,” he said casually, “heard Tinsley Construction just secured the contract for the new community center outside of Meadowbrook. I thought the town council was above bribes, but apparently not.”
I nearly choked on my water. Ava kicked Dad under the table—I could tell by his slight wince—but he just raised his eyebrows in feigned innocence.
Harper’s smile didn’t waver, though her knuckles turned white around her fork. This conversation was painful, but it was worse knowing what I knew now about her parents’ lack of support for her career choice.
“Phillip,” Mom said in the warning tone that usually preceded household objects being thrown.
“What?” Dad spread his hands like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. “I’m just making conversation.”
“It’s fine,” Harper assured Mom with a smile so gracious I half expected her to sprout wings and a halo. “Our families have a complicated history. But Drew and I have managed to move past it for our project.”
She glanced at me, a silent question in her eyes—was this okay to acknowledge? I nodded slightly, weirdly grateful for her honesty and tact.
“Well, I think that’s very mature of both of you,” Mom said firmly, using her I’m-ending-this-conversation-now voice. “Now, who wants tiramisu? I picked it up from that little bakery downtown.”
“Thank you for the offer, but I should probably head home,” Harper said, standing up from the table and taking her dishes to the sink. “I’ve got an early practice session tomorrow.”
“I’ll walk you out,” I offered, standing up a bit too quickly. “Mom, can you take Rory for a bit?”
Mom’s face lit up at the opportunity to hold her granddaughter, though her eyes darted between Harper and me with barely concealed curiosity. “Of course! But don’t take too long.”
The underlining meaning was clear—no matter how pleasant dinner had turned out, Harper was still seen as the enemy.
The night air was crisp but not cold, stars just beginning to appear in the darkening sky. Our houses were so close that walking her home was almost ridiculous, but I was grateful for the moment away from my family’s scrutiny.
“Sorry about dinner,” I said as we crossed the small yard. “My dad can be a little too direct.”
Harper smiled, shaking her head. “It’s fine. My parents aren’t exactly subtle about their feelings toward your family either.”
“Still, I’m glad you stayed.”
We reached her porch, the soft glow from inside spilling through the windows. She turned to face me, and suddenly I was very aware of how close we were standing.
“Your parents really love you,” she said, her voice low. “That part was obvious, even through the Tinsley hostility.”
“Yeah, they do. I just wish they would’ve been nicer to you.”
“Why?” The question came out as a whisper, like she was afraid of what I might say.
I wasn’t sure if I’d stepped closer or if she had, but our toes were almost touching as I stared down into her mesmerizing brown eyes. “Because you’ve become important to me.”
For the briefest moment, I imagined what it would be like to close the distance between us. To find out if her lips were as soft as they looked.
But then the porch light above us flickered, and the moment broke.
Harper took a small step back, tucking a strand of her fire-red hair behind her ear. “I should go in,” she said, her voice slightly unsteady. “Early morning and all that.”
“Right,” I said, shoving my hands in my pockets to keep from reaching for her. “Thanks again for coming to dinner. And for bringing Liam’s package.”
“Of course,” she said, turning and opening her front door. She paused on the threshold to look back at me one more time. “Goodnight, Andy.”
“Goodnight, Freckles.”
Neither of us said the names with the usual teasing tones they’d always carried.
I stood there for a moment after she closed the door, trying to make sense of the jumble of emotions coursing through me.
I couldn’t deny it anymore. Harper Tinsley was no longer the enemy.
The only problem was that I was pretty sure being her friend would never be enough either.