Chapter 36
HARLOW
“Hi!” My sister answers the video call with an exuberant smile. “What’s up?”
“Just missing you, so I thought I’d call,” I answer, turning to check on the pasta I have cooking on the stove.
“What are you making?” she asks, squinting at the screen.
“Penne with that tomato sauce mom taught us both to make.”
“Oh, yummy. Where’s the monster?”
“With her dad.” I blow out a breath, ruffling my hair around my face. “She has a doctor’s appointment tomorrow and he’s taking her, so we decided it made the most sense for him to pick her up today instead of tomorrow.”
“That does make sense.” Willa pulls her hair to the side, her ring flashing in the light.
I wonder if I’d never ended things with Spencer if we’d be married by now. Who knows, maybe we’d even have another kid. I don’t know why I’m even allowing my thoughts to stray this way. It’s not worth dwelling on the past.
“Is Jameson not there?”
I shake my head. “He’s working late tonight. He’ll be here later.”
She arches a brow. “Do you even know what to do by yourself?”
“No,” I laugh. “It’s too quiet and Roe’s stuff is everywhere so it feels like she’s still here.” I make a mental note to pick up her stuff after I eat dinner.
“Please, don’t hate me for saying this, but you seem sad.”
Leave it to my sister to see right through me.
The kiss with Spencer in his outdoor shower floods my memory.
“I’m just really confused right now and it’s stressing me out,” I reply.
She frowns, worry filling her eyes. “Talk to me, Low. You know I’m always here for you.”
I know that and I also know my sister would never judge me.
“Are you alone?” I ask. I don’t want Jasper overhearing. I’m already judging myself enough. I don’t need my future brother-in-law to know what I’ve done too.
“Jasper’s out picking up dinner. It’s just me,” she confirms.
“I kissed Spencer,” I blurt. “Or he kissed me.” I shake my head. “I don’t know who kissed who first.”
Her mouth pops open and for a moment I think the screen has frozen, but then she shouts, “What?”
“I know.” I cover my face. “What was I thinking?”
“When?” She gasps the word.
I peek through my fingers. “The day we went bodyboarding with Monroe.”
“I need details.” She bangs her fist against her desk. “Spill. Did Roe see?”
“No.” I shake my head. “Thank God she didn’t, or the whole world would know. But we were rinsing off in the outdoor shower and—”
“Together?”
“Together,” I confirm. “And it just happened.”
Sobering, she asks, “Have you told Jameson?”
My shoulders droop and she knows the answer before I squeak out, “No.”
“Harlow,” she gasps. “You have to tell him!”
“It was just a kiss,” I defend. My shoulders curl inward like perhaps I can close myself away in a shell. “It didn’t mean anything.”
She frowns, blinking at me like she’s just waiting for me to get it through my head that I have to tell him. “He deserves to know. Wouldn’t you want to know?”
I cringe. When she puts it like that, yes, I would want to know.
It feels like the walls of my throat are closing in when I swallow. “I don’t want to ruin this,” I confess softly. “Jameson is … he’s so good. I love him so much.”
“And that’s exactly why you have to tell him.”
I drop my head and mutter, “I hate it when you’re right.”
She laughs softly. “You must hate me a lot.” She throws in a wink. Clearing her throat, she asks, “Does the kiss have you confused?”
I press my lips into a flat line. I don’t want to answer that question. It’s one thing to keep it in my thoughts. It’s a whole other voice it out loud.
“Harlow?” she prompts, like maybe I haven’t heard her.
I give a jerky nod.
“Oh, Harlow,” she breathes out.
“I shouldn’t be confused, should I?” I blurt out. “I should’ve shoved him away. It shouldn’t feel like this.” I gesture with my arms, trying to show how it’s all too much.
“You have history,” she replies softly. “That makes a difference.”
I cover my face with my hands, and the first few tears leak out.
“Oh, Harlow,” she breathes. “I wish I could hug you right now.”
“What have I done?” I ask, but I don’t expect her to answer. The door to the apartment creaks open and I drop my hands. “I’ve gotta go.”
“Tell him,” she mouths before I end the video call.
Jameson steps inside with the first few buttons of his shirt undone and his hair a bit wild like he’s had a rough day and has constantly run his fingers through it. He holds a fresh bouquet of flowers in his hand and it’s like a stab to the heart.
“Were you on the phone?” he asks, locking up behind himself. He drops his messenger bag off his shoulder and sits it on the barstool before he crosses the room to kiss me. “You’re crying.”
“Yeah, with Willa,” I answer.
His face drops. “Is she okay?”
I nod. “Yeah, yeah. She’s fine.”
He sets the flowers on the coffee table and sits beside them so he’s in front of me. His hands find my knees, rubbing his thumbs in gentle circles. “What’s wrong, baby?”
I squeeze my eyes shut.
I have to tell him.
I take a deep breath and open my eyes. “Spencer and I kissed.”
“Okay?” It comes out as a question. “Like … recently?”
I wipe at my damp cheeks. “Yes.”
He nods and his Adam’s apple bobs as swallows. “Who initiated it?”
I know this man, I know he’s not the type to shout and scream and throw shit, but even with that knowledge I’m still surprised that he’s so calm.
“I don’t know,” I answer. “It was sort of mutual, I guess.”
He nods again and sits back, pulling his hands from knees and placing them on his own instead. I feel cold without his touch.
Removing his glasses, he rubs the bridge of his nose. Setting them back in place, he faces me fully and there’s no way for me to run from the pain in his voice.
“Why didn’t you tell me when it happened?”
I reach for the blanket and cover myself with it. “I think I was scared. Embarrassed. And in disbelief that it happened.”
Rubbing his jaw, he nods. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“I’m processing, Harlow,” he snaps, and it’s so unlike him that it feels like a slap.
“I’m sorry.” I burst into tears. The last thing I wanted to do is hurt him, which is why I kept it to myself.
“Fuck,” he curses, moving to sit beside me on the couch where he pulls me into his arms.
I push against him, not wanting him to hold me right now. I don’t deserve his comfort.
“Let me go,” I plead. “I should be comforting you. I’m a horrible girlfriend. I’m a horrible person. I’m a horrible—”
“Please,” he begs. “Stop saying bad things about yourself.”
“It’s true.”
He holds me at arm’s length, and I know I must look like a mess from his perspective. “Do you want to kiss him again?”
I don’t think so, but I’m not so sure and that’s the worst part of all.
But, “No,” is what I tell him.
He cups my cheek, wiping away my tears. “I won’t lie, this wasn’t great to hear, and I’m hurt—I’m really fucking hurt, but it’s not going to be the end of us.”
He presses a kiss to my forehead and my eyes flutter closed.
I don’t deserve him.
Maybe I never did.