Chapter 41
FORTY-ONE
WARREN
Everyone’s perception of perfection varies. It’s a sliding scale. It could be a beautiful sunset over the Mediterranean ocean or not hitting a single red light on your commute to work.
Perfection for me is Harriet’s hand in mine.
Any other comparison is wrong. Screw objectiveness.
Thank god Harriet researched strollers beforehand and knew exactly what she wanted. I was no help, completely absorbed in the way her soft skin felt against my callused palms. We leave the store with a stroller secured and Harriet’s hand securely woven with mine.
I’m nervous to see what’ll happen if I let go, so I take no chances.
“Is this still okay?” I ask timidly, loosening my iron-clad grip.
She beams up at me. “For the tenth time, yes. I enjoy holding your hand. You have my permission to hold it whenever we’re together.”
I like the fucking sound of that.
There’s a lot I want to do with her—things we’ve already done. Kissing. Teasing. Fucking. But this small, intimate gesture is equally satisfying.
Kevin wasn’t against me pursuing a relationship with Harriet. He did caution me to take it slow, something I didn’t argue with. There’s work to be put in from my end, but to allow ourselves this moment, without fighting our quickly escalating feelings, makes me feel lighter.
We amble down the sidewalk, in no hurry to return to my truck and end the day.
“For the record, going slow is probably the right move for us. We’ve gone about this backward. I want to get to know you better. More than a friend this time.” She smirks.
The usual coil of discomfort still lurks, though less so since speaking to Kevin. This is the part I struggle with, opening up and sharing a side of myself I’ve tried so hard to forget. It won’t happen overnight, but hopefully, with his help, I’ll get there.
This part of the journey makes my skin crawl with discomfort, knowing I will eventually have to tell her about my PTSD and the events leading to it. Not spilling all my truths to her now isn’t from lack of trying. Avoidance is a common side effect, something I’m seeking to overcome.
My biggest fear: Harriet wants nothing to do with me after hearing every detail of my past.
I shove it aside, living in the surreality of the now.
“Are you asking me to go steady?” I gently knock my shoulder into hers.
“Steady? How cute. I forget you’re a senior. Are you going to make me a mixtape?”
I tongue the side of my cheek. “Is this the type of sass I can expect?”
“Maybe you should do something about it.”
The street isn’t busy, and I hook an arm around her shoulder and lower my mouth to her ear. “What would you have me do? Fuck the sass right out of you and show you how to be a good girl?”
She gasps. “Jesus, Warren. Warn a girl.”
Her quickly reddening cheeks warm my lips as I press a chaste kiss to her jaw—which is exactly when a nasally, pompous voice interrupts us.
“This has to stop happening, babe.”
I’m annoyed I remember his name. Peter stands in front of us, every bit like a bad smell. There’s a petite brunette on his arm, so engrossed in her phone, she’s unaware they’ve stopped walking.
“Are you stalking me?” he asks arrogantly.
Harriet sniffs the air and acknowledges him with a stiff tone. “Peter.”
The woman pales when she finally looks at us. “Oh. Harriet. Hi.”
“Ah, yeah, I forgot you know each other,” Peter says dismissively.
“Of course I remember Irina.” Her smile is sickly sweet. “Hard to forget the woman I caught sucking you off under your desk.”
Well, shit. My girl’s got fire.
Irina, I presume, gasps loudly while Peter has the audacity to laugh.
“Always so bitter. It’s good to see you trying to move on.
Though I hope for this guy’s sake”—he jerks his chin at me—“you’ve learned to get over silly little mistakes.
Take my advice. You need—” His eyes grow wide as they lower to Harriet’s stomach.
“Holy fuck. You move quickly, don’t you? ”
I bristle at his disdainful tone. “Watch it.”
Harriet prods me in the side, either telling me to let it go or giving me permission to flatten the prick. She ignores his comment and moves to walk past him. With my arm still slung over her shoulder, I follow.
Until he opens his mouth again.
“Can’t say I’m surprised. What does this one do?
Executive producer? Head of Production? Sleeping your way through the industry won’t get your music noticed.
But by all means, keep spreading your legs.
Hopefully, he’ll pay handsomely in child support.
” His puny eyes flick my way. “She’s your problem now, man. ”
This time, I ignore Harriet’s gentle poke.
I’m in Peter’s face in a flash. “Watch the fucking way you speak to the mother of my child. Whatever she saw in you was obviously a mistake.” I give him a once over and snort. “From the looks of it, she’s not missing out.”
Peter’s mouth opens and closes, trying to formulate a response. I shake my head.
“Nah, you’re done talking today. You’re also done speaking to Harriet ever again.
While you’re at it, scrub everything about her from your memory, because I can guarantee she’s already forgotten about you, Peter.
” I step back, offering him a flat smile.
“Not once in your pathetic little life will you ever be deserving of her, so thank you for that, because I’ll certainly cherish her like the gift she is. ”
Harriet’s hand easily finds mine. She squeezes twice, and I’m calm.
“Let’s go,” she urges softly. “I’m hungry.”
I nod, not granting Peter any more of my attention, and allow Harriet to lead us away.
Twenty steps later, Harriet releases a heavy snort before shaking with laughter. “Oh, god. I thought he was going to pee his pants.”
I pull her to a stop outside a small cafe. “If we ever bump into him again, I will punch him. Pre-warning.”
“Don’t waste your energy.” Her arms wrap around my waist. “Thank you. I was planning on ignoring his existence, but after your performance, I’d pay good money to watch you embarrass him again.”
I revel in how easily she fits against me. “He’s got a really punchable face.”
She laughs into my chest. “He’s my unfortunate mistake, not yours.”
“Hey.” I find her chin and raise her face. “You don’t believe what he says, do you?”
The resounding silence reboils my blood.
“Harriet, it’s the furthest from the truth. That tool wouldn’t know talent if it smacked him in the head.”
She sighs. “The thing is, he does. He works for a very reputable and well-known record label now. He’s probably painted a terrible picture of me to his bosses.
Word spreads like wildfire, and a part of me wants to quit before I’ve even begun.
My videos rarely reach anyone, and no one is going to want to work with a heavily pregnant woman or breastfeeding mother. ”
“No.” I cup her jaw. “I’ve seen you work too hard to give up now. Yes, you should enjoy the last few months of your pregnancy and as many after—whatever you decide—but I won’t let you abandon your dreams. Remember what I said?”
She purses her lips. “We’re a team.”
“Damn right.” I kiss her furrowed brow, wishing it was enough to wipe her uncertainty away. “And we don’t quit.”
Her smile is watery, but it’s there. My smile. “I’m tired. Let’s head back.”
We walk to my truck, and the air between us on the drive to Harriet’s cottage has shifted significantly compared to the one hours earlier.
I’m amped up, the fire burning beneath me fueled by finally giving in to my feelings and putting her ex in his place.
Harriet shuffles restlessly in the passenger seat, stirred by similar emotions.
“Let’s put the radio on,” she says and presses a few buttons on the center console before settling on a station.
I’m transported from my truck to the top of the Ferris wheel when “I Wanna Be Yours” by Arctic Monkeys plays. Wind whips through my hair. A fall sky glitters overhead. And Harriet writhes and moans in my lap as she soaks my fingers.
I swallow before glancing over at her.
She’s already watching me with hazy eyes.
“Do you remember this song?” I ask gruffly.
She chews her bottom lip. “Vaguely…”
My cock immediately stiffens painfully behind my zipper.
We pass the Welcome to Iris Meadows sign, and by the time the song ends and we’re outside the cottage, we’ve shared a thousand words with subtle glances and zero words.
I cut the engine and stare at the cobbled path leading up to the front door. If I look at her once more, there’ll be no controlling my next move, not with the burning tension wrapping its tendrils tightly around me.
“Did you want to come in? I have a few hours to kill before my shift tonight.” There’s no missing the husky hitch to her voice.
My gaze remains forward. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
“Why? I thought we were moving forward…”
My head snaps to the right. “We are. I promise you. But if I go inside, my last speck of willpower will do nothing to stop me.”
Her mouth falls open, breaths short, chest rising. “What if I don’t want to stop you?”
“Harriet.” The steering wheel groans under my grip. “You said you’re tired.”
She twists her body in her seat, the new position pushing her breasts together, and putting every ounce of her heated attention on me. “And now I’m not. I’m…”
Sparks dance in her blue irises while a wildfire blazes deep within me. My hands itch to trace every luscious curve of her body. Slow. Slow. Slow. It’s what we agreed outside the restaurant, but did it apply to the violent storm of need coursing through me?
I lean forward. “You’re what?”
She says exactly what’s on her mind, erasing all logical thinking.
“Desperate, Warren.” She moves toward me, closing the distance. “This time, I don’t want a distraction. I want you. All of you.”
Our mouths clash, all teeth and frenzied lips. It’s urgent and brief before I pull myself away and jerk my head toward the cottage. “Get inside, Harriet.”