29. Harlow
Chapter 29
Harlow
“ T hese horses seriously are the sweetest.” Meg brushes down Star with me, feeding her twice as many snacks as I usually do.
After our movie night and excessive drinks on Saturday, we spend Sunday being lazy bums. Cassidy went home after breakfast to take care of B and spend the day with that man of hers. She didn’t bring up Heath or Harrison, and I was grateful for it.
Meg and I just lazed around, reading at our own pace, with music in the background and continuous snacks. We went out to the local diner, where our server, Sharon, was a complete gem. We ate atrocious, greasy food and washed it down with soda. It was the cherry we needed for our short weekend together.
After a whole day of rest we feel human again. She flies out later tonight, so we decided to explore the property this morning. We’re both bundled up, but the air is chillier than we’re used to. The minute we entered the barn, we were thankful for the heat that stays trapped inside and the shield from the wind .
“They’re pretty great.” It seems like owning a horse can be so healing. When I would ride horses with my family, we didn’t own any. We just belonged to some ornate stable that had beautiful and well-behaved horses. These horses are bonded with the people who ride them, and it’s special.
Maybe when I get home, I can look into getting my own horse and somewhere to board.
Looking over to Meg, I give her a gentle smile. “Do you think Heath looks like the horse type?”
I see the shock in her eyes immediately. Usually, when it comes to Heath or any of that business, she’s the one to start the conversation. Putting down the brush she was using, she rubs her hands together, getting off any hair or dust.
“Honestly?” she asks and I nod in response. “I think he’s the kind of guy to get you whatever you want. Especially if it will keep you busy. I can imagine him talking about horses if the conversation involves, like, racing or something like that. But can I imagine him getting on a horse? No. Like, he’ll totally indulge you . . . but the genuine interest isn’t in him.”
I run my hands up and down Star’s long, muscular neck under her mane. So soft and comforting. Blake is going to grow up with these horses and build bonds with them. She’ll find comfort in petting her own horse one day. Her parents will talk about horses, riding, books, or whatever else with her with authentic attentiveness.
One day, Harrison will meet his princess, and he’ll massage her feet while listening to her talk about her day. On holidays, they’ll have a loud and loving dinner and afterward, they might go for a family ride, have playfully competitive races, and group grooming.
Will I get anything like that? Do I want anything like that? I hadn’t thought about it much until I was here. Being around Cassidy and her family is really causing the kind of self-reflection that makes people question what they want.
A few weeks ago, I told Harrison I was okay with only agreement and understanding in a relationship, but maybe I want a little bit more than that.
“Maybe I could get him interested?” I ask, brushing my hands off on my jeans and leading Meg out of Star’s stall.
“Why would you do that? You’ve always been Miss ‘people can have their individual hobbies’,” she mocks.
“People can. Maybe at least one thing in common would be good?” Meg stops behind me; I can’t miss the absence of her quick footsteps behind me.
Turning and looking at her, I raise a brow in question.
“Oh, that little notebook contract and all this fresh air has you all sorts of fucked up. Where’s my confident bestie?” She crosses her arms under her full breasts.
“I’m—”
“Good mornin’, ladies,” Harrison calls from Hunter’s deck. When I turn to look at him, my eyes go wide. He’s got Blake in his arms, smiling in our direction. Her angelic face takes us in and offers a look of suspicion before recognition registers and she smiles. She’s wearing a fleece pullover, leggings, and a small pair of cowgirl boots. He’s wearing a wool-lined corduroy jacket, dark jeans, and a different cowboy hat than the one he had at the bar.
Devastatingly handsome, as usual.
“Oh!” Meg yells, and I look over to see her hunched over, holding her stomach. I’m about to rush over to her when she holds up one hand and strains against the air. “My . . . ovaries!” she yells, and I practically die of embarrassment. My face turns bright red. Yes, he looks downright perfect holding B in his country getup. But the scene she is making is so her. Actually, it’s so Harrison, too. I roll my eyes at her and turn to look back at Harrison.
He's whispering something to B and laughing.
“Harlow, tell your friend to get her uterus under control! I just made a fresh pot of coffee. Come on up.” Harrison doesn’t wait for a response; he just turns on his heel and heads into the house.
“How do you get surrounded by hot men? Only you would go to the middle of nowhere and end up staying on a knockout’s property. And with that baby on his hip! I might book that bunkhouse after you.” I know she’s joking, but she would be the perfect fit for Harrison. The only issue is outside of the men, she wouldn’t like it here. She needs more people, more activities, more movement. Personality-wise, those two are peas in a pod. That’s probably why I get along with Harrison so well.
We walk into the main house, which is surprisingly empty. Blake runs around the corner, and I scoop her up into a hug.
“Hey, sweet B.” I blow a raspberry on her cheek. Meg holds her arms out, but she turns into me, not wanting to be shared. Feeling bad, I go to put her back down, but she pulls her legs up, refusing to let her feet touch the floor. I don’t fight it, and we all walk into the kitchen together.
There are already two mugs of hot coffee on the counter with a sugar jar, some chocolate and caramel syrup, milk, and a spoon. I go to fix my own cup one-handed, but Harrison stops me and points to the coffee that is just a shade lighter in color.
“I already made yours,” he states. “What are you two up to today?”
Meg gives a Cheshire cat smile and fixes her own cup. “I fly back home tonight, so we’re just walking the property a little.”
Harrison tells her about his favorite spots, some of the history, and future plans. I listen, even though he’s told me most of all this over the last week. He and Meg run their mouths; their optimism and continuous “and what if” conversations are a little exhausting. I could interrupt them and be a voice of reason, but I don’t want to burst their bubble. They’re having fun.
Blake starts to get restless and bored with their conversation, so I make my way to the front room where there is a plethora of toys. I sit on the floor and place her next to me, but she moves into my lap.
“What’s going on, baby girl?” I soothe her, noticing that she is looking for extra comfort and company today.
She doesn’t play much. She flips the pages of a board book back and forth, busying her hands rather than looking at the pictures. I’ve tried to read to her, but she’s too restless. Harrison and Meg eventually make their way into the room.
“Where are Hunter and Cassidy?” I ask.
“They went out to run errands today because they didn’t yesterday. She was hungover, and you know how Hunter dotes. He barely got anything done.” Harrison rolls his eyes, but I know when he’s married, he will do the exact same. Here he is now, doting on B.
“What’s wrong with B? She seems off,” I ask just as she puts the book down and turns toward me, opening her arms.
“She’s tired and won’t go down for a nap. I guess she’s been going through a sleep regression at night, and it’s causing some daytime attitude.” As if Blake can tell Harrison is talking about her, she scowls at him. I suppress a laugh because it’s exactly the kind of face Cassidy would make .
Scooping her up in my arms, I try to make her comfortable, but she looks for a plushness on my chest that does not exist. She turns her head every which way, trying to get comfortable. Looking over at Meg, I think she might be a better option. The chest on that girl is abundant. Walking over to her, I try and do a hand-off, but Blake denies any attempts. Harrison also tries to take her to go rock her upstairs, but she fusses.
“Show me where the rocker is,” I say as Blake rubs her face into my sternum. Harrison leads me up the stairs to Blake’s room and I survey the space. It is a subtle yet beautifully decorated room. Soft. Welcoming. Sweet. Everything I’m not.
How can B be so comfortable with me when I’m not warm and fuzzy?
I sit down on the rocker, and Harrison hands me a stuffed rabbit and blanket.
“Thanks.” Instead of wrapping Blake in her blanket, I create a makeshift pillow on my chest and then wrap the remaining material around her. She plays with the ears of her bunny and settles herself. It only takes a few moments before she’s comfortable.
Looking over to Harrison, he watches us with a quizzical look on his face.
“Do you want to try and take her?”
He shakes his head gently in response. “Are you uncomfortable?”
I shake my head. Blake is settling herself deeply into me, and I feel her somehow becoming heavier as if she is just letting herself go.
“She’ll probably give us hell if we try to move her. Want me to help you lay her down?”
I shake my head again and begin to rock the chair. “Go hang out with Meg. I’ll try and lay her down. If she wakes up, I’ll hand her off to you,” I say in a hushed tone.
Harrison’s eyes roam all over me. From my face to his niece in my arms, down my legs, then to my feet. His eyes linger on them, covered in black socks, and I remember his possible foot fetish. After only a moment, he looks back up to my eyes and offers me a small smile before nodding and turning to head down the stairs.
Rocking Blake is so simple; I’m not as stiff as I thought I would be holding a small child. It gives me a little faith that when I do have kids, if I do have kids, I won’t totally fuck it all up. She falls into a heavy sleep, deep even breaths falling from her parted lips.
After laying her down, I creep out of her room as quietly as I can. As I make my way down the stairs, I catch the pictures on the wall. Harrison and his brother. What I assume are their parents. Cassidy and Hunter, and then Blake. I hear Meg and Harrison talking as I hit the last step.
“Oh yeah, you should have seen her before she got comfortable in her style. I think for a while, she would try to tone down her darkness. Like, she would try to wear more modest things. Now, she actually dresses like herself. It’s cool how much variety there really is in her wardrobe. It doesn’t look like it to others, but there are differences in the ways she dresses.” Meg’s tone is full of adoration.
“Definitely. Like when she wears something for comfort, practicality, and flare. The differences would be hard to miss.” My brows raise in shock at Harrison’s response.
I hear Meg hum for a moment. “Right. I’m surprised you’ve noticed in this short period. Some men who she’s been with for months or even years missed that.”
He scoffs. “Like, would I catch Harlow wearing her riding pants, long sleeve, and vest to a bar? Or her black dresses around the house? Nah. She loves to unwrap herself and sling on her comfy clothes. We do that constantly, living this life. Strip out of our shell and toss on something for comfort. You wouldn’t catch me dead chilling on the couch in my jeans or a button-down. I have a high school hoodie I wear like how she wears that knit cardigan she drags around with her.”
I hear Meg laugh. “Yeah, that nappy thing is one of her staples. Or her hooded jacket. She loves that thing.”
“It suits her. She was wearing that when I first met her; I can’t imagine her in anything else.”
Damn these two for being so sweet. I see a lot of similarities between the two of them. It’s their constant sunny disposition. I could be in a horrid mood, but just being around them parts those gloomy clouds and brings in the sunshine I need to get better.
“Hold on, let me see if I have some older pics on my phone of her before she figured herself out,” Meg states, and with that, I make a show of hopping off the last step and loudly walking over to them.
Meg freezes, knowing I will kill her if she shows any of those pictures. So many ill-fitting tops, pants that didn’t flatter my long, lean legs, and the sweaters were abysmal.
“She’s out like a light. Meg and I have to go back to the bunkhouse before she heads out.” Meg blinks a few times but relaxes her face quickly. It doesn’t matter anyway because Harrison’s eyes are locked on mine. I give him a gentle smile and make my way to the chair to grab our jackets.
“Thanks for letting me visit, Harrison. This town is seriously so sweet. I can see why you all love it here so much.”
“Of course. Harlow is welcome to have anyone she wants here during her stay.” He smiles, offering her a hand to shake, but she walks right past his hand and gives him a tight hug. It only takes a split second for Harrison to wrap his arms around her and return it.
It’s weird. I know that’s my best friend. I know that Harrison and I have a literally written arrangement to make sure things stay as clinical as possible. I know both of these things, but I’m still somehow bothered. They look so good together, like puzzle pieces—her soft, curvy frame against his tall, muscular one.
Have I ever looked like that with anyone?
Will I look like that when I’m with Heath?
What will it feel like when we hug?
When they release each other, there is no lingering. Meg doesn’t even look back as she slips her shoes on and we head out the door.
We spend the rest of the day in town, walking around, and looking at the details of the little shops before I make the hour-and-a-half trip to bring her to the airport.
On the drive back, I make a stupid, impulsive decision. I take out my phone and dial Heath’s number. He picks up after the first ring. Not surprising, since he always has his phone in hand.
“Harlow, to what do I owe this pleasure?” His voice is kind but still businesslike. “And at this hour?”
I realize that I’m calling him at what would be midnight if I was staying on the islands like I had told him.
“I was just talking to Meg and thinking about a few things.”
Heath hums on the line as if to tell me to continue.
“Like you said you would want kids if I wanted kids, but how involved with those kids would you be? Are you openly affectionate? Will you be affectionate to your future kids? When you hug me, will my arms go over your shoulders or under? Do you sleep on the right or left side of the bed? What?—”
“Am I going to get to answer any of these? Or do you need to get all your questions out first?” I hear a snicker in his tone.
“Sorry, it’s just Meg is such a romantic. I haven’t been. I’ve had relationships, but not like hers. I’m wondering if that’s why they haven’t worked out for me.”
“If I’m not mistaken, Meg is single. So, that means that it didn’t work out for her, as well. And you aren’t her, so how can you expect your relationships to be anything like hers? So, tell me, what kind of relationship do you want, Harlow?”
I stare out at the dark, empty road in front of me and think to myself. I don’t really know. I enjoyed my last relationship a lot, but it just wasn’t the end-all for either of us. We felt more like friends with benefits than true lovers.
“I guess I want to have a real relationship. I don’t want a farce. I want to feel like the object of their affection, and I want them to be mine. I want physical and emotional intimacy. I want a strong partnership and to know my partner and I can rely on each other. I think I do want at least one kid; I mean, I’ve kept my cat alive long enough, but I’ve also heard that cats are hard to kill. But what do you want? What are you capable of?”
“You do realize that’s the most you’ve ever said to me, right?” He laughs, and it’s actually kind of nice.
“No, it’s not. I text you almost every day.”
“Sure, but that’s the most you’ve ever spoken to me.”
I don’t say anything, and he starts to laugh even more.
“Okay, I’ll humor you. Listen, I’ve been married once before. I’m sure you know that by now; something tells me you weren’t going to go into this completely blind. It was a cordial marriage. I think I wasn’t a very good husband to her, and I’m not quite sure why. I think I just assumed she would be okay with me working all the time to fund whatever she wanted to do. But Amanda didn’t have any personal aspirations. That sounds terrible, but I just don’t think she knew what she wanted at that time of her life. So, with me being gone all the time, I think it was just in her face. When I look back on my role, I think I didn’t do enough to foster a relationship with her. So?—”
“And that’s why you want a relationship where your wife has her own career and is busy. Like you said, you’re a busy man.” He’s surprised by my interruption and lets out a slight growl.
“I am, and I want you to be busy too. I don’t want you to be waiting for me or bored. But that doesn’t mean I’ll ignore you. Harlow, I’m willing to spoil you however you want. If you want my time, that means you’ll need to work closely with me. You want your own department, run it from my office. We’ll carpool and do dinner daily. You want physical affection? Trust me, Harlow, I am very willing to take whatever privileges you’re willing to give with your body. I’ve thought about it daily since we’ve met. You want to cuddle? You got it, I’ll work from bed if I have a late night. You name it, Harlow. I’ll be attentive to you and as many kids as you want. Just name it.”
I’m speechless. I don’t know what to say. He’s basically telling me he’ll do whatever I want, but he doesn’t really say what he wants.
“You’re giving me a lot of freedom.”
“Harlow, the only thing I’m asking for is a chance.”
“How can you know so little about me and be so sure?” I ask as I focus on the road ahead of me .
“I guess I can’t be sure. I already have one failed marriage in the books. But I also know that I have a gut feeling about you that I didn’t have with Amanda.”
I roll my eyes because how can I trust someone’s gut feeling? There’s nothing to back that up.
“Harlow,” he states, and I wait for him to continue.
“You’ve been telling me about yourself for about a month, you really think I don’t know you at all? I think the person here who doesn’t know the other is you.”
I roll my eyes hard, but at the same time, I know that he’s kind of right.
“Then spill,” I say.
For the rest of my drive back into Pebble Creek, we play twenty questions. And out of all twenty questions, we only have two in common.
One: We both have eclectic taste in music.
Two: We enjoy the arts.
But that’s it. Our favorite foods, colors, seasons, weather, holidays, and hobbies are all so very different. I guess this is what they mean when they say you end up with someone unlike you to round you out. Maybe my parents really do know what they’re doing when it comes to matchmaking.