Chapter 17
STONE
I’m staring into my whiskey glass as someone pats my shoulder in passing in acknowledgment, but I don’t take much notice.
I should be enjoying myself amongst the publishing team at this evening event for authors.
On a top floor in a fancy hotel in downtown Chicago, the dusting of clouds with a peek of city lights from surrounding buildings brings a mellow feeling as I glance around the floor-to-ceiling windows.
Space.
That’s what Harlow asked for a few weeks ago, and I’ve been miserable since. I’ve done my part and not reached out to her. I’m just hoping that she finds clarity.
“Well done with the latest book,” my editor Ashley says, arriving in front of me.
I offer her a weak smile. “Thanks. I believe you played a part.” My eyes dip down to see her growing baby bump. “How long?”
“Ten more weeks.”
“I hope your replacement is only temporary. You’re the magic to my words.”
She snorts a laugh. “That’s not true. You’ve had something else in your life lately that acted as a mystical spell on you and changed the mood of your writing in the best way. It really is top-notch what you handed over to me. What was the secret?”
Harlow.
I sigh. “Just… someone I met.”
“Harlow Olive?” My eyes pop out slightly which causes her to chuckle.
“Her editor and I talk sometimes at staff meetings. Gloria was once our special guest at a meeting, and she mentioned that you and Harlow were partners in crime at her writing retreat that we sent you on. So, I’m going to put two and two together. ”
I trace my thumb along my jawline, as I enjoy the vision of people connecting me with Harlow. I’d be proud if she were by my side.
“Well, there is maybe some truth to that.”
Ashley smiles at me as she touches my bicep. “I’m surprised she’s not next to you.”
I take a sip of my alcohol, needing it to ease my depressed mind. “Why do you say that?”
She indicates with her head to the side, and my sight moves to scan the room, settling on a figure across the crowd. I close my eyes tight before opening them, aware that I should have known better. Maybe I feared it, too much of a confrontation.
“I’ll leave you be. I need to grab a snack and then sit down.” Ashley touches my shoulder as she walks behind me.
I’m left to pierce my gaze at Harlow who is chatting with a woman who I can imagine is her own editor. Damn it, Harlow is dressed in a black shirt with elbow-length sleeves, accompanied by a flowy olive-green skirt that will haunt me in my fantasies. There isn’t a day that she isn’t stunning.
I would be a fool not to recognize the obvious. Harlow seems as though the happiness on her face is a facade for the solemn mood that’s underlying. I know her body too well now and see the way the corners of her lips tick to the side, only to falter back to neutral.
She’s faking her attention to the topic that the woman next to her is discussing. It’s when Harlow drinks a sip of her wine and her eyes slide in my direction that the strike of electricity sparks between us. She seems to do a double take, then an honest brief look of happiness hits her face.
I just stand firm, taking a swig of my drink. I had a hunch that Harlow would be here, I just imagined she would write me a warning. That alone causes me to expect that this night isn’t going to go in my favor.
Harlow excuses herself from the conversation and slowly saunters in my direction, hesitant yet initiating our reunion that I wish would go the way I want.
“Hey, Stone.”
“Hey, Harlow.”
She briefly looks to her side then back to me. “I wasn’t expecting you here… or maybe I was. My mind isn’t, well… it’s a little chaotic.”
I need to touch her right now. “So how is that game suspension going for ya?” For some reason, I’ve managed to stand and speak in a neutral tone, showing no hint of my frustration.
She gently dips her eyes low. “Here we are, Harlow. I’m not sure what you want me to say.
Ignoring you isn’t particularly me, and telling you that you’re wrong isn’t right either.
I’d rather be with someone who is sure and willing to fight than run away. ”
She soaks in my words and seems to not want to confront them either, instead an attempt to smile arrives on her face. “It’s hard to talk to you right now either way. You look very good in a suit. I might be distracted.”
It earns her one laugh from under my breath. “I can’t really complain about that comment.”
“You know… I had an inkling that we would end up in this conversation, and I’m sorry I didn’t caution you about my attendance tonight. I’m happy for you, that the book stuff is going well. Either way between us, I’m proud of you,” she says, sincere.
“Praise isn’t what I want. I could think of a million other things when it comes to you that would be even better.” I set my empty glass on the tray of a passing waiter.
Harlow seems to be caught, guilty even. She nervously drinks her red wine. After a few seconds of standing in our bubble, with my fingers desperate to touch any inch of her, she breaks the silence. “Okay. You’re right. This situation is all on me. I’m not great at assessing my feelings.”
I stare at her blankly. “You literally write it for other people.”
Her lips quirk out. “To be fair, they’re not real.”
I roll my eyes, getting aggravated. “If there was no one here then I guarantee that you and I would be in a debate now.” I evaluate the room and notice that nobody is taking notice of us. “What’s your plan? Keep me in suspense? Talk over cheese puffs?”
She heaves a breath of exasperation. “I wanted to wing it and see what my inkling was when I saw you. What to do, I mean. Which I now realize was a horrible idea.”
I step closer to her, feeling the warmth of her body, and for a moment I allow myself to stare at her collarbone that is enticing and just causes me to want to scream that she’s a temptress.
I do the next best thing. I bring my mouth close to the spot between her cheek and ear, dragging her hair behind her shoulder.
“Tell me, why would it be a horrible idea?”
When I notice the slight shiver running down her body, I move away to leave her patch of skin cold.
Her lips open, while her eyes try to avoid mine, but it’s pointless. “I have an overpowering need to kiss you and touch you while you make me laugh.”
Why must she answer what I was hoping for?
I ease a notch. “Me too,” I admit. “But you’re the one in the lead here, and I’m going to walk away right now because it’s nearly impossible to be around you without forgetting my gentleman card right now.”
A weak half-smile forms on her mouth. “Then one of us should go now. I… really, I’m happy for you on the professional front.”
“Sure.” In defeat, I walk away, wishing in a way that she wasn’t here.
In one hand right now, I have her near, and in the other she’s slipping away.
The swooshing of the revolving door is my sign that I can loosen my tie and leave this miserable attempt at socializing. But my eyes flick up when I notice Harlow waiting for a taxi. Her hands are in her pockets as she’s looking up at the sky, which are the lights of skyscrapers in place of stars.
Most of all, I notice her nerves, and it has nothing to do with me.
It’s night.
Without me, I think she might still hate them.
I can’t walk away now. My feet won’t even attempt to step away, I’m permanently protective of her.
I curse to myself that it may be my fate. I’ll never shake that feeling away, no matter the distance or how we end up.
“Harlow.” My voice is low.
She side-eyes me then does a double take. “Oh, hey.”
That may be a disappointing greeting to most guys, but it has nothing to do with me. “Heading back to the hotel?” She sounds almost nervous for my answer.
“Yeah… I guess we’re all at the same place.” Our publisher arranged everything.
I hail down a taxi that’s approaching. “Come on, I’ll ride with you.”
Harlow looks at me, unsure yet appreciative, which is why I hold the door open to let her slide onto the backseat first. After I inform the driver where we’re going, I sit back, only to notice the space between Harlow and me.
Awkward cab ride here we come, it seems.
“Uhm… so how’s your niece?”
Ah, break the silence by sticking to chitchat. Classic.
“She’s good.” I pull out my phone to show her a photo of Nora using a Labrador as support to stand.
The dog appears to be patient with her clawing of hair.
The scene is completed with a giant, drooly grin on Nora’s face.
“Standing up and giggling like crazy.” When Harlow leans in to steal a glance, her fingers feather my wrist, and my entire body wants to jolt from the urge to yank her closer to me on the backseat.
“Adorable,” she nearly mumbles. Harlow must feel the heavy air wrapping around us as she slowly leans back.
“How’re photos of green-colored olive flowers next to a book going?”
Now she chortles and gives me a humorous glare as we both realize our ability for neutral talk is an epic failure.
Which is why I don’t care and bring my finger to draw lazy circles on Harlow’s hand, resting flat on the middle seat. I stare down, acknowledging that this touch isn’t enough; I need more.
Her breath catches from the connection as her eyes rush to look out the window. “Stone, I’m not sure what to—”
“Shh, I don’t need to hear you say it again. I got the picture. Your thoughts are all muddled.”
A short laugh escapes her. “A mind reader, are you?”
“Yeah, something like that. Or my intuition is heightened around you.”
As we approach the hotel, my fingers retreat from her hand to grab some bills from my pocket to pay the driver. I’m out of the car first, and Harlow follows behind me. I hold the door for her, and as she stands, our eyes hook in a serious way. It’s both sensual and a warning.
Closing the door, we stand on the sidewalk and can’t seem to part.
“I’ll walk you to your room.” It’s not even an offer, it’s going to happen. Not even in a hopeful way. I simply want to walk her to her door.