Chapter 45
Harbor
Her eyes soften at the outside corners as she stares into my eyes. God, I miss lying in bed next to her, talking into the early hours of the morning, sometimes until the sun sneaked in and shined a light on the golden flecks of her eyes.
She still has the most captivating eyes I’ve ever seen in a kaleidoscope of greens and golds.
Angling, she dips her legs out of the car again. Lark leans forward and cups my face. We move closer, so close until her forehead is against mine.
It wasn’t just the late-night talks I missed.
I miss her. I miss the smell of her bubble bath still lingering in the bathroom after she got out.
I miss the elastics she’d use to twist her hair on top of her head.
I’d find them everywhere, from a blue one in the crack of the couch to a pink one in the fridge once, and a handful on her nightstand.
I miss her claiming one of the nightstands as her own.
I miss her claiming me as her own. I miss her so fucking much.
I close my eyes, not from fear that this will be the last time I’m close to her, but the opposite. This feels like a new beginning. An acceptance of who we were and who we are in the present.
She whispers, “I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything at all. I didn’t know your name the first time I laid eyes on you. I didn’t even know it a month later when you bought the soda at TJ’s—”
“And you called me sweet cheeks.” She smiles for me, and my whole world tilts on its axis.
I’m worn down, the trauma of that day years ago exhausting me in ways that may take a lifetime to recover. But I will recover. I know that now. I caress her cheek feeling I’m earning the right back, even if at a slower pace than I like. “And you called me babe.”
She nods with a sweet smile arranged on her beautiful face.
“I remember when I told you my name and the way you looked at me . . .” She takes a shaky breath.
“No one’s ever looked at me the way that you do.
Even now, after the years, the pain, the crushed hearts, the lost souls, you still look at me like I’m everything. ”
“You are. To me, you always will be.” The weight of the words holds all my truths inside them. “I’m sorry I hurt you, Lark.”
With one hand still firmly pressed to my cheek, she slides her other down my neck. Looking into my eyes, she says, “I wish you hadn’t.”
“It’s my biggest regret.”
When she tears her eyes away from me and takes a breath as if she’s gasping for air, the point of the knife prods this fucking useless organ in my chest. It’s an unpaid passenger on every journey I make.
She nods slowly and then closes her eyes briefly. “I didn’t expect you to keep your promise.” Her eyes glance to me and then away again. “But you’re here, Harbor, and I’m . . .”
“You’re what? You can tell me anything.”
Seeming to catch herself, she sits up and then tucks her legs back inside the vehicle just as tears overflow her lower lids. Looking down at her fingers twisting in her lap, she shakes her head. “I can’t do this again, Harbor.”
“What is this?” I ask, hearing the lengthening distance in her voice.
Looking at me, she hesitates, then licks her lips as if the words are already there, but she doesn’t want to say them out loud.
As much as I don’t want to hear a rejection, I still care what she has to say. “You can tell me, Lark.”
Her gaze slides up until our eyes meet again. “If I’m not careful,” she whispers, “I’ll fall in love again.”
I kneel before her again. “You say that as if it’s the worst possible outcome.”
“This isn’t a fairy tale, Harbor. You don’t get to barge into my life and sweep me off my feet. That ship has sailed.”
I stand and turn, looking around as if I’ll find an answer in the dark that surrounds us. The knife slides in without resistance, straight to the heart of who I am, deflating any hope I carried of reigniting our flame.
With my hands on my head, I pace away from the car, wishing I could make her see how much I care.
Money never impressed Lark Summerlin. Character does, and she believes I lack integrity.
Would she feel differently if she knew the truth?
Standing ten feet away or so to give her all the space she needs to see me, all of me, I ask, “Are you open to the possibility?”
“You don’t know what you’re asking.”
“I know better than I ever did. I know who I am, even if you can’t see it.”
“It doesn’t matter what I see. You’re still asking me to throw caution to the wind and trust you again.” She rubs her forehead, seemingly troubled by raising her voice. When she looks up again, her eyes are focused on me. “I did that once, and it didn’t end well for me.”
“You’re a doctor. It ended exactly how it should have.”
“I would have chosen you if I had been given a choice.” Tears roll down her cheeks, and she reaches for the door.
I stand, knowing I’m not changing her mind, at least not tonight.
“I realized years ago that you weren’t the knight in shining armor, but my story’s villain.
” Her gaze crawls back to mine, and through a shaky breath, she says, “I’m sorry for everything you’ve gone through, for the evil that forced you into a corner.
I’m glad you’ve fought to live your life to the fullest again.
But maybe . . . maybe that’s the only happy ending we can hope for us. ”
When she holds the door even tighter, I stand so she closes it. But then she reopens it, and says, “I forgot my shoes.”
I look at the park bench and see the glass, the wine bottle, and her shoes still there. “I’ll get them.”
The door closes as soon as I walk away. I don’t take offense.
Pushing me away and blocking me out are her defense mechanisms. What I think or feel doesn’t matter.
I care too much to push her beyond her comfort level.
I pick up the shoes and the glass, dumping the remaining drops to the ground, then grab the bottle.
I felt the beginning not the end. My mind is reeling as much as my heart. This isn’t our end. I would feel it.
After I load the stuff in the trunk, I get in the car and hand her the shoes. “Thank you,” she says quietly as if she’s being intrusive. It’s bullshit that she sounds small. She should never be anything less than the incredible person she is.
“A year ago,” I say, starting the engine. “I asked for another chance. You gave that to me without question tonight. I want to thank you for this opportunity.”
Her chin lifts as she angles my way. “You’re welcome.”
I back out of the overlook parking spot. “I’ll get you back to the city.” Now she eyes me, her lips twisted to one side as she bites the inside of her cheek. I continue, “I’m sure you have a busy day tomorrow.”
“I do, actually.”
I pull back onto the road, knowing I have one hour, not for me to change her mind, but for her to do it. Convincing someone to love you is only a temporary trick. The real magic is when they believe it themselves. Then it’s genuine.
Keeping the music low in the background, I ask, “Why did you apply for your residency in New York?”
Planting her elbow on the door, she rests her head in her hand and tightens her expression as if she might be onto me. But then she says, “It’s easier to disappear here and live life on your own terms.”
“Why do you want to disappear?”
“I don’t need a lot to make me happy. A great bagel, solid friendships, and family.
I’m within a few hours, if not closer, to all those things.
” She smiles, easing back against the leather seat.
“I’m also a people watcher. I like the city, the vibe, the busyness of it all.
Everyone has somewhere to be. It’s nice to sit in the chaos without getting sucked into it. ”
Her smile is enough of a reward to soothe the angst twisting inside. I go on to ask, “Do you believe that people can change?”
“Oh, um . . .” She glances at me, appearing surprised at the question by how she readjusts, and her brows rise. “I believe people will change when it feels right to do so. For some, it might take a lifetime to realize they need to. Others change in the moment.”
“What about forgiveness?” I ask, silently pleading that she can give me a reason to hold on to hope.
“Am I being interrogated?”
“No. I just want to hear your thoughts.”
“What about forgiveness?” she repeats the question as she mulls her answer. There’s no sigh of defensiveness, but I’m still glad she can speak her mind. “Forgiveness takes time.”
As much as I hate to admit it, we still have a few hurdles to jump, so I understand what she means. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to forgive my aunt for the guilt she put on me and the lies she made me tell about my cousin.”
“I understand. I’d struggle with that as well.”
I still don’t understand my aunt’s motives. To protect a reputation he’d already jaded? To destroy me in her grief? I’ll probably never have the answers. I’m not upset that she’s been removed from mine and my family’s lives.
As for Lark, I want to know everything she believes. I ask, “What about love?”
“What about love?”
“Do you think it’s meant for everyone, even the damned and damaged?”
That she hasn’t shied away from answering any of my questions is a good sign.
She’s engaging as well as enchanting. She replies, “I think even the most injured hearts have the capacity for love. It comes through forgiveness, but if the person can find the strength, they can move on. Not everyone can.”
“Can you?” God, I hope so.
“I hope so.” Her gaze extends through the windshield as she adds, “My dad didn’t.”
The knot that had been eased years ago upon my return to the States rolls across my chest, picking up everything I had left untouched—the truth of her scholarship, why I left, and even the way I found her at the restaurant earlier tonight.
The details could make things worse or bring us together, but I won’t take the gamble.
Not with her. Not with this chance. “Why not?”
“He couldn’t forgive my mom. He’s spent his life hurt to the bone.” She turns to look at me, a hand covering her mouth under wider eyes, like the similarity just struck her. “I don’t want to live the rest of my life trapped by the pain of the past.”
“I would never want that for you.”
Her hand lowers, and there’s the smallest of knowing smiles along with a roll of her eyes. “I bet.”
“I will bet. I’ll bet destiny hasn’t played her hand when it comes to us.” Okay, resorting to what I know she believes in might be considered shady, but what’s the point of having inside information if you don’t use it?
Her smile blooms, and I’m not fucking upset about it. “How much?”
“How much what?”
“How much are you wagering on destiny?” I love seeing a mischievous gleam in her eyes. She’s invested. How much remains to be seen.
“Everything.”
“Everything?” She sits upright. “The car and the answers you’ve never given? The—”
“The house, the condo, my heart,” I say, sneaking that in.
Renewed energy flows through the car as the weight of earlier finally dissipates.
She asks, “How will we know if we win or lose?”
“Guess we’ll just have to wait to find out.” The city looms in the distance, and by the time we’re crossing the Washington Bridge again, dread sets in. I’m not ready to say goodbye or good night to her.
I hear her swallow, making me believe she feels the same.
I know her address, though I’ve never been in the area. Still, this is about what she wants, so I ask, “Where would you like me to drop you off?”
“You can drive me home. Thank you.”
I’m inventing scenarios to justify why she’d give up that information so easily to me—like her not wanting to walk in those heels or it being dark—she says, “I trust you, Harbor. You have always looked out for me. I know you never hurt me on purpose. I can see that now. You left me to protect me. Maybe one day you’ll trust me enough to tell me why. ”
Lark’s always been so damn smart, but her heart reads me so well. She’s not asking me, so I nod, knowing one day I will.
After she directs me to her neighborhood, I can’t say I’m impressed. It’s fine, but I’d prefer her somewhere with more security, like a lobby and a doorman, some barrier between her and the street. But that’s not my place, and I won’t make her feel bad or worry about something that she can’t help.
I stop at the curb, get out, and come around to help her. She’s steady already when she takes my hand. I’m not sure I am being this close to her.
She says, “How did you know where I was tonight?”
“I followed you from the hospital.” I watch her carefully, waiting for her reaction.
Her eyes glance at the car behind her. “How in the world did I miss a silver Maserati following me?” She doesn’t sound bothered in the least. She sighs dreamily as her hand touches my chest. “I’m glad you found me.
It’s been a good night, even with the bumps in the road.
” She pulls her hand back quickly as if it had gone rogue and was fraternizing with the enemy.
Exhaling with a little coo, she moves around me and heads for the door to her building.
I close the door and turn around to watch her, to make sure she gets in safely.
She punches in a code on the keypad and then opens the door.
I don’t know where we stand or where we’re leaving this, but I have to try.
Again. Not just for me, but because I don’t want her living the rest of her life trapped in pain from the past either.
This is it.
My last chance.
“Hey, Lark?”
Shouldering the door open, she turns back. “Yes, Harbor?” She can say all she wants to about not wanting to metaphorically open the door to me again, but I hear that threadbare hope hanging on for dear life in her voice.
“Are you free Saturday night?”
Her gaze goes sideways along with her hip. She can put on the show like she doesn’t want to go, but her heart does. I can feel it. She just needs to get out of her head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Really?” I ask, surprise rising inside. “I think it’s a fucking great idea.” I walk around my car and open the driver’s door. Leaning on top of the hood, I say, “Is five good for you?”
“Harbor?” She plants her hand on her hip. “What are you doing?”
“Giving us the redo we deserve.”