5. Harlow
Chapter 5
Harlow
H e’s not ugly, which sounds so superficial. I’m almost embarrassed for having such shallow thoughts. But they are my thoughts, and I’m allowed to have them. A marriage has to have some sense of attraction to work out. If my parents get their way, I’ll need to be able to at least stand him.
Heath, for me, is an average man in all aspects. His height is average at five foot nine, and his body seems healthy but not muscular. I strategically wore flats to not come off as intimidating or rude.
He has short, well-kempt brown hair, brown eyes, and an almost reddish beard that’s kept tight at his jaw. A little more distinct are his thick, fierce brows. They’re not unruly, but they could be if he didn’t maintain them. What is particularly distinct about them is how they stay in a deep furrow as his face remains glued to his phone.
Heath’s parents, Gloria and Richard House are sitting next to him on a long couch in our sitting room. On Heath’s other side is his PA, Ryan, who apparently needed to attend this family dinner .
As promised, Maria made risotto, and the smell is intoxicating. Dinner is not ready quite yet, so we’re having before-dinner drinks. My parents and I are seated together, across from the Houses. They chat away, going on and on about retirement. My mother is glowing at the idea of having more time with my father. I know they wished I aspired to run our family business, but I love my job.
My sister, Helen, and her girlfriend sit to my left, and I wish my father could see what I see. She would love to head the company. Helen would be a total ballbuster as CEO. She is the CFO for a partnered company that works closely with West Inc.
Lydia is wound so tight tonight as this is her first dinner in our family home. Everyone but my father has gotten close to her, which is unfortunate since she’s a complete gem. She is an auditor for a large trading company, but she originally worked at Helen’s office as an accountant. Once they started dating, she immediately looked for a new position so as not to compromise either of their jobs. They are maturity personified.
I look around at everyone and lock eyes with Helen, who turned from Lydia to look at me. I give her a bored look and shrug, not knowing what to say.
“You have a call with Germany in fifteen,” Ryan says to Heath.
“A work call?” his mother says, a little astonished.
“Yes, it will only take maybe ten minutes of our time,” he states without looking up.
“What business do you have with Germany?” I ask, to make conversation.
It is maybe the third time Heath has looked up at me, and his eyes drop to my lips.
“Not Germany per se; a manager in my finance department is there at this time. His brother is stationed there for the military, and he has gone there for family affairs. I understand the need to be flexible for family, so I touch base with him daily, usually taking no longer than an hour, but he has a quick additional update for me.”
“Have you been?”
“To Germany?” He furrows those brows, and I nod in response.
“Yes, I have, it was lovely. Do you enjoy travel?”
I’m a little shocked. We’ve been sitting here for almost an hour, and this is his first attempt at a conversation.
Leave it to my mother to cut in. “Actually, Harlow is heading to St. Thomas next week.” She beams.
Heath only tilts his head as if prompting more information.
“I’m taking a trip with my friend; she has the need for a getaway, and I can bring my work with me anywhere.”
“The islands are perfect for that. Since you’re leaving next week, I assume you have a place to stay. If you find it’s not to your liking, let me know. I have a lovely little property out there. Great for a quiet, secluded getaway.” I’m reeling at his generous offer.
“Wow—”
A loud ringtone cuts through the room.
“It’s J,” Ryan states, holding the phone out for Heath.
Heath stands and straightens his pants before taking Ryan’s phone.
“Please excuse me,” he states before walking out of the room. Ryan is basically a shadow following at a measured pace behind him. True to his word, the call does not even take ten minutes. He strides back in, and before he sits, Maria announces dinner. My father offers my mother his arm, the Houses follow suit, and I stare Helen down for a quick second.
Don’t you dare.
I’m ignored. She offers Lydia her arm, and they slide together like two puzzle pieces. If I wasn’t so happy to see my sister and her partner together in our family home, I’d give her a dirty look. Helen is happy, and Lydia is nervous but happy. They are imagining bigger things from here, and I feel like I can hear their unspoken conversation: this dinner is another step forward.
Heath is looking down at his phone again, his brows furrowed. Ryan coughs to catch his attention, and Heath looks over at him with questioning eyes. The assistant’s eyes flit to me and the couples parting the room for a brief second.
“Shall we?” Heath asks as he offers me his hand for me to stand. I hum and take a deep breath, placing a sweet smile on my face. His hand is cool, smooth, and well-manicured. When I stand, our eyes are essentially on the same level, but mine are a pinch higher. His eyes meet mine and then drop down to my feet as though he had forgotten our first greeting.
No heels, buddy.
He offers me his arm, and I slide mine through his. We amble behind the rest of the dinner party, Ryan in our wake.
Dinner is served, and the conversation is simple. Nothing grand, mostly business and travel. The Houses talk about a long European tour they have coming up, and my mother practically drools over the idea.
I’m relieved when Maria makes the dessert and coffee announcement. There is only so much small talk I can handle. I’m feeling peopled out. Heath is nice enough; he is kind and makes easy conversation. The only thing that seems to irk me throughout the whole meal is how he leaves his phone out on the table, face up. Every time it buzzes his eyes dance down to the screen, but he does not hiccup in conversation. He has mastered multitasking his phone and the busy life around him.
We’re making our way to the sitting room for the last part of this evening, but that plan is quickly stolen from me.
“Harlow, why don’t you show Heath the new garden,” my mother says, looking at me sweetly before turning back to Gloria. “We just had a large part of the property relandscaped. I wanted a picturesque garden, and Henry made it happen.”
Then why don’t you take him?
“Would you like a stroll?” I look over at Heath, standing board straight, and typing furiously onto his digital lifeline.
“Sure, dear,” he says as if on autopilot, without looking up. I don’t miss the way my mother snaps her head enthusiastically at the two of us.
I let out an unsatisfied huff and walk without looking over to see if he follows to the French doors.
“Want us to come?” I hear Helen ask, but I ignore her. All I can think of is how I fulfilled my obligation to my family by having this dinner. Unfortunately, I know that this won’t be the end. Heath’s lack of disinterest has both sets of parents invested in a possible future. He’s already leading his family’s business and making national headlines as a top-of-the-line businessman.
I get to the double doors, but a hand grabs the knob before I can. At first, I think Heath had stopped what he was doing and had moved to open the door for me. Nope—it’s Ryan, and he’s opening the door for the both of us.
Heath is still typing away on his phone, not at all bothered by my basic dismissal. His ability to keep his cool is annoying.
Ryan opens the door, and I step through, followed by Heath, then Ryan. He’s about to shut the door, but Heath holds one hand up.
“You may wait here,” he says as he gets back to finishing whatever is on the screen.
Ryan looks shocked as if he is rarely dismissed. He looks over at me, and I watch him with a bored look as he slinks back into the house and shuts the door.
Heath looks up at me and flashes me a confident smirk. “Shall we?” He offers me an arm but keeps his damn phone in his hand.
“Will your digital assistant also be joining us?” I drop my gaze to his phone, and he looks at it for a moment before sliding it into his back pocket.
“Not a fan of phones? Where’s yours?” he asks, looking me head to toe.
“Honestly, I can’t say for certain. Maybe the sitting room, or the foyer table, maybe the kitchen from when I tried to sneak a bite of risotto,” I say as I lead us down the paved path to a line of tall hedges.
“You tried to sneak a bite of the risotto?” He looks at me, honest interest on his face.
“Yes, it’s a comfort food made by Maria. I love her cooking.”
“She made a magnificent dish. Have you been to Italy?”
“No.” We cut through an opening in the hedges with a trellis covered in vines. During the summer, the vines had flowers that were beautiful during their full bloom. Now, as fall approaches, only the vines remain.
“The food there is divine, and if you like Maria’s risotto, you would experience nirvana in Italy. I’ll take you,” he states as if it’s a done deal.
“You’ll take me to Italy?” I ask, stopping in my tracks.
Heath turns toward me, not letting go of my arm, keeping me close.
“Italy, Germany, St. Thomas, Greece, France, Brazil, wherever.” His brows soften, and his eyes search my face. I am uncomfortable under his intense gaze, so I make sure to avoid eye contact. I turn my face toward the garden and scan the space.
“I hear you are planning to expand into publishing with the media aspects of your business.” A more superficial conversation will put me at ease.
“Yes, I have a recent interest in publishing.” Heath starts to walk with me down the path again, and we start to see the art that is my mother’s garden: winding paths with flower beds and water features, small artistic statues strategically placed, and the pergola we love to utilize.
“Recent?”
“My future seems to be in publishing if I wish to get into the good graces of a particular someone.” I want this walk to end. Too many direct comments about the future. Too many flirtatious moments that I am not ready for or comfortable with.
“Is that so?” I don’t know what else to say.
“Harlow.” My name is almost a command. I hear his phone buzz, just as I have for most of our walk. He lets out a sigh and finally pulls it out. He uses one hand to merely swipe it open, then looks at whatever is so pressing and slides it back into his slacks. “I am a busy man. I would like to partner with a busy woman. I’ll be direct. You are lovely, almost unearthly so. I need someone who will not be bored by my side and finding someone with aspirations of her own that I can help blossom would be ideal. According to your father, you have no desire to take over the West legacy?” he asks.
I shake my head, trying to quicken our pace without being obvious. Sprinting would be utterly transparent.
“I don’t particularly want West Inc., but there are many benefits to our merger. For you, it would be job security, an endless supply of money, and a marriage of status. You merely have to give me a chance.” It could be romantic if I were any other woman, but I’m me. It’s too much like a business deal, as is the rest of my family life.
Is this how Heidi’s husband approached her? Did she fall for such ridiculous words? Endless money? Status? I couldn’t care less. I just want to stay me.
“I collect moths,” I say randomly. “I hate bright colors,” I add. “I prefer to be on my own over being with someone, and my musical taste is described as eclectic, at best.”
Heath quirks a brow at me.
I continue. “I spend most of my money on oddities and random things that bring me joy. I’ve grown accustomed to things that are name-brand due to my upbringing.”
“Moths? Don’t they ruin your clothing?” he asks genuinely.
“They’re dead,” I state.
“Dead. Dead Moths?”
“Yes, I have them framed and hanging on my wall, as art.”
“You have an interest in art?” He jumps.
“You’re missing my point,” I redirect.
“What is your point, Harlow? All I’m hearing is you trying to convince me I shouldn’t give you a chance. Which is almost the exact opposite of what I was asking.” He has that confident smirk back on his face.
“My point is, I am me. I like the way things are. I would prefer as little change in my life as possible.”
“I’ll do my best,” he interrupts me.
“You don’t even know me,” I add, offended that he’s so sure.
“I know enough to make an arrangement work.” An arrangement, not even a relationship or a marriage.
“You do not,” I declare.
“Then I will get to know you and convince you.” Heath pulls his phone out again, which I’m surprised has been silent as we have continued to walk and talk. Also, to my surprise, we have reached the end of the path and find ourselves standing under the trellis again.
Sliding his phone open, he takes his arm from me. He hands me his phone, which is opened to a contact card.
HARLOW WEST
“Add your number, love; I will keep in touch until you return from the islands. Then I’ll take what I’ve learned and give you the kind of romance you usually only get to read about,” he proclaims. I believe him, and for some reason, it makes my skin crawl. Overly romantic gestures make me uncomfortable; they seem so ingenuine, like a show. I don’t even read romance.
Regardless, I add my number because I told my father I would.
Heath smirks triumphantly and leads me back to the house. I don’t believe he’s registered my silence as anything other than surprise or awe. He likely believes it to be excitement on my part.
He couldn’t be more wrong.