32. Harper
THIRTY-TWO
Harper
Monday, March 16
The Essential
8:23 AM
The rich aroma of freshly brewed coffee hits me as I step into the café. Potted ferns dangle from the ceiling, and a row of mismatched mugs hang behind the counter. Mason is already at a corner table, typing away on his phone. He doesn't see me walk in, so I sneak over, hoping to startle him.
"Boo!" I bark as I walk up to the table.
He jumps, satisfying my perverse desire to "get him."
“Damn you! I swear to God, Harper Gray. You're lucky I'm a pacifist,” he says with a scowl.
"You know it's all love. I only try to scare my favorite people."
"Well, I win the best saint award today because while you're sneaking around trying to give me a coronary, I ordered you a latte."
I can't wipe away my self-satisfied smile as I slide into the chair across from him. “A saint, huh? Last I checked, saints don’t drink martinis and snark for a living.”
He gasps, clutching his chest theatrically. “The audacity. You don’t deserve the lavender latte I so graciously ordered for you.”
“Lavender latte?” I lift a brow, amused. “Who even am I to you?”
“You’re the woman who needs a calming influence in her life right now,” he retorts, pushing the mug toward me. “Trust me, you’re welcome.”
I take a sip, and to my surprise, it’s good—floral and soothing, with just the right amount of sweetness. “Okay, fine. I’ll allow it.”
Mason leans back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other in that effortlessly poised way of his. “So, where are we? Hawaii. Have you made a decision, or are you still floundering like a guppy out of water?”
I sigh, swirling the foam in my mug. “I haven’t decided yet, Mason. I change my mind hourly. I was going to tell Jonah last night, but...”
“But?” he prompts, leaning in with obvious curiosity.
“But he was all stressed out about Lila,” I explain. “She has a meeting with the cops today, and it’s weighing on him. It didn’t feel like the right time to drop this on him.”
Mason tilts his head, giving me his signature you’re avoiding something look. “Harper, you’ve got until the end of the week, right? You’re cutting it close. The longer you wait, the less time you two will have to talk it out.”
“I know,” I admit, fiddling with the handle of my mug. “I just... I don’t want to add to his stress. He’s got so much on his plate already.”
“Don't give me that shit, Missy. This is all about you not wanting to broach it, end of story,” Mason says, pointed but kind. “Let’s simplify things. Pros and cons, darling. Lay it on me.”
I laugh softly, shaking my head. “You’re really leaning into this whole life coach thing, huh?”
“Someone has to,” he quips, pulling out a tiny notepad and pen from his bag. “Now, let’s begin. Pro number one: Hawaii. I mean, it’s Hawaii. Go.”
“Okay, fine. Pro: beautiful beaches, amazing weather, fresh pineapple,” I list off.
He scribbles furiously. “Yes, yes, and yes. Continue.”
“Pro: The job is exactly what I want. ER work with a focus on trauma care. It’s my dream assignment.”
“Love it,” Mason says, underlining something with dramatic flair. “Next?”
“Higher pay, housing included, no living expenses,” I add. “I’d save so much money.”
“Financial queen,” Mason declares, tapping his pen against the page. “Okay, now for the cons. Let me guess—Jonah?”
I nod, biting my lip. “Yeah. I mean, six months is a long time. And it’s not like I can just hop on a plane for a weekend visit. It’s really far and prohibitively expensive to travel from here to there.”
"Well, with all that money you'd be stockpiling… Just saying."
"Ugh. This is the worst."
Mason looks at me over the rim of his latte. “Does Jonah even know you’re considering this? I'm guessing no, but please tell me you've at least let on you got the offer.”
I shake my head. “Not yet. That’s the other con. I hate that I haven’t told him. I feel guilty, especially since openness is the thing I keep preaching to him.”
Mason jots something down, then looks at me with a smirk. “So, let’s summarize. On one hand, you’ve got professional growth, financial freedom, and paradise. On the other, you’ve got... guilt. Guilt about a conversation you haven’t even had yet.”
I roll my eyes. “You make it sound so simple.”
“Because it is,” he says, sliding the notepad across the table. “Look, Harper, if Jonah cares about you—and I think he does—he’ll support you. If anything, he’d probably be mad if you didn’t take the opportunity because of him.”
He makes a good point. At least pragmatically. But matters of the heart aren't so black and white. Mason has a way of cutting through my overthinking and exposing the truth beneath it.
“You’re right. Not a hundred percent, so don't let it go to your head,” I admit quietly. “But I do need to tell him. I just want to find the right time.”
“Fair,” Mason says, lifting his latte in a toast. “But truth be told, darling. There will never be the perfect time. Opportunities like this don’t come around every day. And neither do hunks of burning love like Jonah.”
I clink my mug against his, managing a small smile. “Thanks, Mason. You get me right to the place I'm ready to say I need to take the job, and then you go and snatch the rug right out. What if I lose this amazing man before we even have a chance to explore it?” I say through a fake cry.
“I know, Honey,” he says with a pat on my arm. “But, like you said, no matter what, you need to tell him. Now, enough about that since we have our decision. Let's grab a pastry or three. Life’s too short for indecision—or bad coffee.”
As we sip and laugh, for now, I can put this on a shelf. But I can’t let it sit there forever. The shelf’s only so big, and Jonah deserves to be a part of the decision.
Harper’s Pool House
5:44 PM
I sit cross-legged on the couch with my laptop open in front of me. The cursor blinks on the email draft, taunting me with its emptiness.
My chest is tight as I stare at the message. All it needs is a few words, just a simple confirmation that I’ll accept the Hawaii assignment. Or, that I will decline it.
I've got it cued up and ready. Now, all I have to do is talk to Jonah. I have to do it tonight.
It’s a dream job, I remind myself. It checks every box I had when I became a travel nurse. But none of that erases the pit in my stomach—the gnawing fear that by saying yes, I might blow up whatever it is Jonah and I have started to build.
Talking to him will make it all clear. I don't know why I'm making such a big deal about it. Jonah has always been easygoing. No matter what other flaws he has, he might be the calmest person I know. I'll just put it all on the table and ask him what he suggests.
But then I go straight back to the loop and the 'what if's.' What if he sees this as me choosing work over him? What if this is the end before we’ve even had a real beginning?
The blinking cursor waits for me, but I close the laptop instead. For now, I can’t hit “send.” Not before I talk to Jonah. Not without figuring out how much of my heart I’m willing to risk.
I hear Jonah’s truck pull into the driveway. I put my laptop down on the coffee table and smooth my hands over my jeans. "Breathe, Harper. You've got this."
I step onto the porch and greet him as he gets out of his truck. He’s still in his scrubs, and his dark hair's slightly disheveled. There’s a tired smile on his face that makes my heart ache.
“Hey, you,” I say softly as I lean against one of the columns framing the opening to the porch.
“Man, you're a sight for sore eyes,” he murmurs, stepping in close. His hands find my waist as he pulls me to him for a kiss. A soft brush of his lips against mine sends all of the nerve endings in my body into a frenzy. It’s the kind of kiss that feels easy and familiar, but tonight, it’s a bittersweet reminder of everything I could lose.
I linger a moment longer than usual, hoping he doesn’t notice the hesitation in my movements. When we pull apart, his eyes search mine, and I force a smile.
“Come in,” I say, nudging him toward the door. “I ordered Thai. Your favorite. Uber Eats should be here any minute.”
“Perfect,” he says, dropping onto the couch with a grateful sigh. “You spoil me, Gray.”
I smile, but it feels fragile. “Jonah, there’s… something I need to talk to you about,” I say before I let the night get away from me until if finally convinces me it isn't the 'right' time.
His brow furrows slightly as he sits on the edge of the couch. “Is everything okay? Your tone and body language are making me nervous.”
I sit beside him with my hands twisting in my lap. “Yes. But something's come up, and you and I need to talk about how we want to handle it.” I emphasize "we" to make it clear that I haven't made any decision.
"Okay…."
"I got an email a few days ago. About a travel nurse position. It’s kind of a big deal.”
He tilts his head, watching me. “Hmm. Tell me about it.”
“It’s in Hawaii,” I say quietly. “It would be for six months." He's silent, so I figure I might as well get it all out.
"It starts in two weeks.”
Jonah’s expression doesn’t change at first, but I can see the flicker of something in his eyes—surprise, maybe? Or something darker? “Two weeks?” he echoes.
“I haven’t decided anything yet,” I rush to explain. “I wanted to talk to you first. I thought… I don’t know, maybe we could figure out what’s best together. We haven't really discussed what it is we are doing long-term. I don't want to put any pressure on you either way, but this felt like something…” I trail off.
He leans back slightly, running a hand over his jaw. “So this isn’t just a hypothetical. You’re seriously considering it.”
“Yes,” I admit. “It’s a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, Jonah. But I also don’t want to walk away from this. From us.”
His lips press into a thin line, and he nods slowly. “Right.”
I feel a lump rising in my throat. “I know it’s a lot to spring on you, but I didn’t want to make the decision without talking to you.”
Jonah stands abruptly, crossing the room to lean against the kitchen counter. “Harper, I don’t know what you want me to say.”
I blink, startled by the sharpness in his tone. “I just thought we could talk about it. Figure out how to make it work if I go.”
He exhales sharply, shaking his head. “Make it work? You’d be across the goddamn Pacific Ocean, Harper. Six months is a long time. Hell, two weeks from now doesn’t even give us a chance to figure out where this—whatever this is—is going.”
I don't tell him I only have days to decide. Two weeks is when I would leave.
“I know it’s not ideal,” I say, my voice trembling. “But it’s not forever. And it’s important to me.”
“I get that,” he says, his tone quieter now but still tense. “I do. And I’m not saying you shouldn’t take it. But Jesus, Harper, you’re dropping this on me out of nowhere. What do you want me to say? That I’m fine with it? That it doesn’t matter?”
“That’s not fair,” I snap, standing now, too. “I’m trying to be honest with you. To figure this out together.”
Jonah shakes his head, looking away. “I need to clear my head,” he says finally, his voice flat. “I’ll probably just crash at my place tonight. Early day tomorrow.”
The words hit like a punch to the chest. “Jonah?—”
“Look, I’m tired, Harper,” he cuts me off. “We’ll talk later, okay?”
He grabs his bag without another word and walks out the door before I can stop him.
I sink back onto the couch, the room suddenly too quiet. My chest feels hollow. His reaction was worse than I could have imagined. I don’t blame him for being upset, but I wasn’t expecting him to shut down like that.
A knock at the door jolts me from my thoughts, and my heart leaps despite myself. Maybe he changed his mind. Maybe he cooled off and came back to talk it out.
I rush to the door, smoothing my hair as I reach for the handle. But when I open it, my breath catches—not with relief, but with disappointment. The Uber Eats driver stands there, holding a large brown bag and a smile that’s way too cheerful for my current state.
“Thai food for Harper?” he says, his voice chipper.
“Yeah,” I say weakly, forcing a small smile as I take the bag. “Thanks.”
He nods and heads back to his car, and I stand there for a moment, clutching the warm bag in my hands. The scent of lemongrass and spices wafts up, but instead of making me hungry, it just makes the knot in my stomach twist tighter.
I close the door and set the bag on the counter, staring at it like it might explode. There’s no way I can eat right now—not with my appetite completely obliterated. But the sight of all the food, enough for two people, makes the ache in my chest sharper.
I grab a fork and carry one of the containers to the sofa. Out of habit more than anything else, I open it. Pad Thai, perfectly sauced and still steaming. Jonah’s favorite. I poke at it halfheartedly before setting it aside. I’m completely beside myself.
This isn’t how tonight was supposed to go. And now, instead of clarity, I’m left with unanswered questions and a growing sense of dread.