Chapter 33
HARLOW
It didn’t make sense for Spencer to pick up Monroe last night, since we’re getting together this morning to go bodyboarding.
As nervous as I am to spend the day just the three of us, Monroe’s excitement helps to erase some of my doubts.
Sometimes, as a parent, you have to be uncomfortable in order to do something special for your kid.
On the way over to Spencer’s place, I pull into a local coffee shop’s drive-thru. I feel a bit bad for cheating on Cool Beans, but I’m choosing convenience. I order myself and Spencer a drink and get Roe their chocolate croissant.
I’m sure she’ll have chocolate all over her face by the time we get to her dad’s, but this is a special day for her, and a little chocolate for breakfast never hurt anybody.
I don’t have to enter the gate code when I arrive at Spencer’s place, so he’s either somehow added my car to be recognized, or he’s been watching his security camera for our arrival. I’m not sure which option is worse.
I pull up the driveway and park.
Sure enough, Monroe has chocolate dried around her mouth. I sigh and grab the drinks before ushering her inside the open garage door and into the house.
Spencer’s waiting for us in the kitchen and smiles when he sees us.
“Daddy!” Roe launches herself at him and he catches her easily. She smothers his face in chocolate-y kisses.
“Your mom let you have chocolate for breakfast?” he asks with a laugh.
“She said it’s a special day.”
He sets Roe down and turns to me, arching a single dark brow. “Oh, is that so?”
I shrug. “It’s not like we do stuff the three of us usually. This is an unusual circumstance. I got you coffee.”
I hold his drink out to him, and he takes it, shocking me when he presses a kiss to my cheek and whispers, “Thanks, babe.” He winces as he pulls away. “Sorry. Muscle memory.”
I nod like that makes total sense even though we’ve been broken up for years. But if what he said last weekend is true, and he hasn’t been with anyone since me, maybe it does feel like just yesterday to him.
“It’s okay,” I whisper back, even though I’m not sure it is.
This whole thing is shaping up to be so much more complicated than I ever thought it would be. With Spencer’s entanglement with Hollywood and being surrounded by beautiful people I never for a second thought he wouldn’t move on.
I tuck my hair behind my ear and step away, taking a sip of my coffee to have something to do so I don’t blurt out something stupid.
“Come on, come on,” Roe says, impatience clouding her tone. “Let’s go! I want to bodyboard.”
Spencer laughs. “Bathing suit first.” He points to the stairs. “And you need to wash your face. We don’t want any of the fish taking a liking to chocolate.”
“Good point.” She nods quickly. “I don’t want my face eaten off.”
She scurries up the stairs, leaving us completely alone.
It doesn’t normally feel this awkward between us, but after last weekend and his confession, I long for the floor to open and swallow me whole.
I speed walk out of the kitchen and into his family room, but of course he follows.
He bought this house for you. He bought it for you to be a family. He loves you.
I want to tell my conscience to take a hike. I don’t need to be reminded of those facts right now.
And I hate to admit it, but despite the large size, the house is homey and is exactly the kind of home I would’ve picked for us. Spencer knows me well. There’s no denying that.
“I’m sorry for what I said last weekend.”
I jerk around at his voice and find him right behind me. I knew he was close, but not that close.
My nose scrunches. “Why?”
Sliding his hands in the pockets of his boardshorts, he shrugs. “It probably made you uncomfortable and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have told you that.”
“But it was the truth?” I press and he nods. “Spencer.” His name is both a cry and a plea, but I’m not sure for what.
“No one else is you,” he says with desperation. “And I won’t be made to feel sorry for that. You’re … you’re special, Harlow. I’ve always known that.”
I hold my hands up, pleading with him. “Can we not do this right now? Please? I’m here for Monroe.”
A muscle in his jaw ticks and he looks away. He utters a quiet, “Yeah, of course,” and walks away.
I drop my head back and groan.
This should be easy. We’re separated. I’m with Jameson. I love Jameson.
But I still love Spencer, too.
Water rushes over my head, momentarily drowning out Roe’s giggles. When I come up for air, I immediately make eye contact with Spencer. He’s smiling in a way that feels like a kick to the gut. It’s such a carefree, boyish smile that I can’t help but be reminded of the teenage version of him.
“This is so much fun!” Roe screams, the words joy personified.
Despite my reluctance, I’m glad that I decided to do this for the sole fact that it’s made Roe so happy.
My gaze slides toward Spencer again and from the sympathy that flashes across his face, I think he notices the guilt clouding my eyes. It’s my own selfishness that has prevented me from doing things with Spencer for the betterment of Monroe. Shame on me for that.
My stomach sours, because the fact is I’ve avoided Spencer because deep down I’ve known that if I spent more time with him, like we used to, I’d start questioning all the reasons I left in the first place.
“What’s wrong?” he mouths.
“Nothing,” I say back.
He purses his lips in a way that seems to say I don’t believe you.
“Ow, my nose!” Monroe bobs between us and grabs her nose. “I got water up my nose. It burns.” I eye the wrap around her cast, making sure it’s still securely on.
“Just breathe through it,” Spencer tells her. “It’ll go away.”
“When will I be old enough to surf?” she asks a minute later.
Technically, she could have been surfing. It’s not like there’s an age limit to start. But I’m the hesitant one, and her broken arm only proves me right. Granted, that wasn’t surfing, but it was doing something similar.
Spencer makes eye contact with me and cocks his to the side, putting the ball directly in my court.
“Maybe once school is out and your cast comes off.”
If she’s expressing interest in learning, then I should let her. It would be wrong of me to continue putting it off.
Surprise lightens Spencer’s eyes.
“Seriously?” Roe squeals with excitement. “Daddy! Did you hear that? I can start learning soon!”
“I heard,” he laughs, glancing my way. Droplets of water stick to his face, dropping off his nose and chin. “I taught your mom to surf.”
She gasps dramatically. “You never told me that.” She swings my way, bobbing on her bodyboard. “Mom, I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”
I shrug. “It never came up.”
She gapes at me in a way that makes me think I’m getting a glimpse of teenage Monroe. “Puh-lease. I talk about surfing a lot, Mom.”
Sometimes, the way she says certain things, it’s hard not to laugh. But I keep it to myself because I don’t want her to think I’m laughing at her.
“You can make it up to me by buying me a surfboard,” she reasons.
My bank account is screaming in terror at the prospect.
Spencer must read my expression, because he says, “That won’t be necessary, silly goose. I already got you one. I’ve just been waiting for your mom to be okay with it.”
She huffs, “Well, took her long enough.”
That’s me. Mom the fun sucker and safety police.
We play in the water for another forty minutes before heading back to the beach and up to Spencer’s house.
He flicks on the outdoor shower to rinse off and Roe hurries under it, giggling uncontrollably.
I’m still eyeing her cast skeptically. Baths and showers, I haven’t stressed too much over the protective sleeve, but the ocean is a whole other story.
It’s a testament to my chaotic state of mind last weekend, that when she mentioned bodyboarding I didn’t immediately panic over the thought of her getting it wet.
When she’s rinsed free of sand and ocean water, Spencer grabs a dangling Barbie themed towel and dries her off. She runs into the house, her wet swim shoes slapping as she goes. If Spencer’s worried about her shoes ruining his floors he doesn’t show it.
“You can go next,” he points at the shower and turns it back on.
I step beneath the spray and let it rinse the salt water from my hair, when I turn around, I motion for Spencer to join me.
The outdoor shower is massive, and besides I’m in a one-piece swimsuit and he’s in his boardshorts.
It’s the logical thing to do, right? We don’t want to leave Monroe on her own for too long.
That girl can get into all kinds of funny business in same time it takes to snap a finger.
“Are you sure?” he asks, hesitating.
“It’s not a big deal.”
And it’s not. Not until he joins me and suddenly the wide-open space feels as small as a coat closet.
My breath catches in my throat at his proximity.
There are more freckles sprinkled across his nose now than when we were teens.
In the movies he stars in they always cover them with makeup.
I wonder why. They’re one of my favorite features of his.
My eyes drop to his lips. They’re the perfect shape, akin to what you’d find on a Greek or Roman statue.
Carved and full but not too full. There’s a single tiny freckle on his lip—the only one they don’t cover up in his films. The one I know has dedicated fan pages for, littered with photos zoomed in on the beauty spot.
Not because I searched them out or anything. Poppy was the one to tell me about it. She finds it hilarious.
My eyes track lower to his collarbone and then even lower to his pectoral muscles. He was always toned, but he’s packed on way more muscle than he used to have.
I let my eyes drop further, to the smattering of dark hair beneath his navel. I bite down on my lip to stifle the sound that comes out of my throat.
He’s hard. Not just his body, but his dick too. I jerk my gaze upward, my hazel eyes colliding with his baby blues.
“Low,” he says my nickname in a huskier than normal voice. “Don’t look at me like that.”
“L-Like what?”
“Like you want me to kiss you.” His breath fans over my lips and I whimper. “Is that what you want?”
My breaths are uneven pants. Is that what I want? The answer should be a simple no, but there’s nothing simple about us or our situation. One kiss wouldn’t hurt anything, right? It wouldn’t change a thing because we’ve kissed many times in the past.
I nod and it’s all the answer he needs.
The fingers of his left hand delve into my hair, while his right hand pulls me in against him at the waist. I gasp into the kiss at the feel of his body so large and hard against mine.
He kisses me with a ferocity I can’t remember him having before—like he knows this might be his last chance to ever kiss me and he’s determined to leak every drop of his feelings into it so that I can’t deny that there’s still something between us—that it’s not only him that has feelings.
I whimper, wrapping my arms around his neck. Now I’m the one pulling him closer, even though you couldn’t fit a sheet of paper between us.
Spencer lifts me with effortless ease and backs me into the wall of the outdoor shower.
I rock my hips against his hard length. I can’t seem to help myself.
My body is intimately familiar with the shape of his, the feel of him, and it begs to be touched by him.
I whimper when his thumb flicks against one of my pebbled nipples that pushes against my swimsuit.
“What’s that?” he asks, breathless. He pulls away enough to look me in the eyes. “Did you pierce your nipple?”
“Both,” I answer.
“Fuck.” He bites his full bottom lip. “That’s going to fuel so many fantasies for me.”
Logically, I know this is the point where I should push him away, put a stop to this, but I think logic left the moment I invited him in to rinse off. I’m not ready for this to end, so I wrap my hand around the back of his neck and pull his mouth back to mine.
Spencer obliges and I practically melt beneath him.
This is the problem. Our chemistry is just too much. Even after years, even after moving on, it’s still explosive. This is why I’ve stayed away from him, because deep down I’ve always known all it would take is one small spark to send us up in flames.
When Spencer finally sets me down and pulls back, his lips are puffy, and his eyes hazy. He draws his thumb over my bottom lip.
“This was … enlightening,” he says in a breathless rumble.
“Enlightening?” I repeat back. The water cascades over my shoulders and he reaches behind me to shut it off.
“Yes,” he replies, looking me over like he’s seeing me in a whole new light. A smile teases his lips. “Very.”
He turns and just walks away back into his house, leaving me standing there wondering what the hell he means by that.