45. Harlow
Chapter 45
Harlow
“ D o you have names picked out for your future children?” I’m facing the window with Harrison’s naked body behind mine.
“What?” He nuzzles into my hair.
“Oh, come on. You have to have names that you like.”
“Okay, yes, I have names that I like. But if my wife doesn’t like them, I won’t be upset or anything.” He starts to draw lazy lines up and down my arm and shoulder with his fingertips. “I like Aurora and Lillith for a girl and Asher and Soren for a boy.”
I close my eyes and think about it. Soren Hill, taking Harrison’s or his father’s name in the middle. Just like him and his brother. It’s perfect. Aurora Hill. How are these names so fucking perfect, just like everything else Harrison conjures up?
“I think she’ll like them. They’re beautiful names.”
“What about you? Do you have names picked out?”
I don’t. I’ve thought more about kids in the last two months than my whole life, and I don’t have a single name in mind .
“Nope. As long as it doesn’t start with H. I hate H names. I have since Heidi was born. I begged my mom to pick something else for Hayleigh, but she obviously didn’t. I think I like the name Marie, because of Maria. But I think it’s a better middle name.”
Aurora Marie Hill.
Damn, that sounds nice.
“Marie is nice. If I steal that, don’t be mad,” he jokes.
Turning in his arms, I kiss his lips.
“How cool would that be? If our kids had matching middle names. A strange but purposeful connection.” I offer.
“I don’t know if Heath will appreciate it.”
It hurts when he mentions him. I don’t want to hurt Harrison any more than I have. Hell, I don’t want to hurt this bad either.
“What’s your opinion on Christmas?”
“I like Christmas, but I can’t wait for Christmas as a dad. Even as an uncle now, it’s better than when we were kids, but setting everything up with my wife while my kids sleep the night before and then watching their pure joy in the morning. I can’t wait.”
“That’s really sweet.”
“I know. I’m sweet, remember?”
How will I ever be able to forget?
We talk more about stupid shit. Things we did when we were kids that we were embarrassed about. What our favorite sandwich is. How we would handle being stranded on an island or in a zombie apocalypse.
I’m getting so tired I’m talking and listening with my eyes closed. When the realization that I’m falling asleep hits me I sit up quickly.
“What?” Harrison’s voice is full of concern .
“I don’t want to fall asleep. Because then it will be tomorrow when I wake up, and I have to leave.”
He chuckles and pulls me back down.
“Sleep, witch. You have a long drive and flight ahead of you. Sleep.”
He pulls me close, cradling me in his strong arms, and presses his lips to each of my eyelids. I couldn’t fight the sleep if I wanted to.
When we wake up, the room is heavy with a sense of misery. My mind reels with thoughts of how I can be so sad to leave this small town and this man’s bed after only two months when I had walked away unscathed from relationships that lasted years.
Harrison gets out of bed first, brushing my hair out of my face and kissing my forehead.
“You get ready. I’ll make coffee.”
My bags are already packed, the tote with my manuscripts taped shut. Everything is ready to go except for me. My shower is quick since it’s not a hair day, and when I walk downstairs, I find Harrison. He’s wearing only jeans, leaning against the counter, ankles crossed, one hand gripping the edge of the counter and the other pinching the bridge of his nose. His head is down, and his messy hair falls over his perfect eyes. Cleo gets to him before me, and he sighs before scooping her up.
Holding her comfortably in his arms, he gives her a quick peck on the head and then looks over to me. I break all over again seeing the water pooling in his blue eyes. He gives me a weak smile, and I return it.
Coffee is quiet but we drink together, Cleo in his arms.
Listen, if I didn’t think Harrison was hot before, him shirtless and holding my cat is something else. I doubt my choices in pursuing him and being able to walk away, but there is nothing I can do.
“I don’t know how to say goodbye to you.” My throat feels raw.
“We said goodbye for hours last night.” He winks at me and gives me the feeling that even though this hurts, we’ll be alright.
Harrison drives behind me to the main house where I say bye to Cassidy, Hunter, Blake, and their parents. Everyone gives me warm hugs and tells me to come back whenever I want, reservation or not. Mrs. Hill tries again to get my tiramisu recipe, and I only disappoint her with my refusal.
The final walk to my car from Hunter’s place, where this all started, is painful. Harrison doesn’t care about eyes being on us; he holds my hand and presses me against my car.
“What about your—” I’m silenced with a sweet kiss.
“Cassidy will distract them with Blake, my folks are feral for that kid.” He kisses me again, and I don’t know if I’ll ever enjoy kisses as much as I have in these past two months. It’s not just his beautiful lips, it’s how they fit like puzzle pieces to mine. The feelings that overwhelm me being in his arms alone are almost impossible to walk away from.
I knew what I was getting into, but it doesn’t matter. A piece of me is being left behind on the Hill Farm—the quiet oasis in the middle of nowhere with everything I never knew I needed.
“Make sure you cue up our playlist for the ride to the airport. I added a couple of songs without your approval. Let me know what you think.” He kisses my forehead and opens my door for me. I nod and climb in, blinking away hot tears.
I try to find the right words to say but thank you and goodbye aren’t right. He can see I’m struggling. So, in the most mature moment I’ve had with Harrison, he shuts my door, smiles warmly at me, walks back over to lean on his truck, and tips his hat to salute me.
The next thing I know, I’m driving down their long driveway and out the gate I came through two months ago. The minute I pass through it, a pit settles deep in my gut. Once I leave Pebble Creek, tears fall down my cheeks, and I feel more drained than ever.
I drive in silence, my mind going at a snail’s pace.
What am I going back to?
How am I going to make it work with Heath?
How can people who were so different from me love and welcome me so easily?
I can’t take it anymore, so I turn on my music to drown it out.
When I pick up my phone, I see a message from Harrison.
Harrison: IMAGE ATTACHED
It’s of Cleo and me sitting across from him on the couch, my feet likely on his lap, and my gaze fixed on the TV. I’m wearing his PCHS hoodie, and my hair is wrapped in a towel after a shower. At any other time, I would think this was a bad picture of me, but somehow from Harrison, it feels like art.
Harrison: You always have a place here. Should you need us .
Well, fuck. He quoted my favorite movie. Here come the waterworks. I open our playlist and quickly scroll to find the new songs he’s added.
“I Choose You” by The SteelDrivers. I pull over to let myself listen and swipe the tears away from my face.
The next song starts, and I try my hardest to pull myself together so I can finish this drive to the airport.
“Superposition” by Young the Giant.
Nope, not happening. I’m bawling.
I open my phone and look at the picture he sent me and wish I could be back on that couch with him. Wish I could slide my feet onto his lap and make fun of his foot fetish.
I look at the picture I took of him on Star during our last ride together.
He is . . . perfect. Maybe not by everyone’s standards, and typically speaking, before I came here, not mine. I don’t know when it happened, and how I could deny it this long, but listening to this song, leaving that property, and looking at him on Star’s back, I know more than ever; he is what I have been waiting for all along.
So many thoughts race through my mind. It’s a jumbled mess, but I need to make a few phone calls to get my ducks in a row. I open my contacts and dial the one person I know I need to talk to before anyone else.
Heath.