Chapter 18
“You’re supposed to be helping me.”
Caroline doesn’t even look up from her laptop. “I thought you just needed moral support.”
The ladder nearly tips when I reach up. “Can’t you at least hold the ladder?”
“I don’t get why you didn’t pay someone to do that,” Caroline huffs, getting up.
I wait impatiently until Caroline secures the bottom of the ladder before I reach out again. “I…hired someone to put up the anchors,” I grit out. “But he can’t come back to put the hoop up until next week. It just came today.”
The muscles in my arms ache, particularly my left where the stitches have dissolved but the spot is still tender.
“Ah…got it.” I finally exhale when the hook finally attaches. I let go, bouncing slightly and clapping my hands together.
“Harper!” Caroline shouts from below me.
I steady myself. “Sorry.”
“Oh, great.” Riley’s voice sounds. “She’s at it again.”
I find him standing at the curtained-off partition.
“Why do you need the ladder?” he asks me. “Couldn’t scale the walls today?”
I roll my eyes before I reach out, grabbing the chain securing the aerial hoop to the ceiling. “What are you doing here?”
Caroline lets go of the ladder and Riley immediately rushes to replace her. “The books you need are in my car. I’ll go get them.”
“Needed some supplies,” Riley says, letting go of the ladder with one hand and touching the hoop. He motions at the two hammocks. “What are all these torture devices?”
Still holding the chain of the hoop with one hand, I use my other to motion around the room, giggling when Riley immediately grips the ladder with both hands. “This,” I say, “Is Flow by Harper . Or it will be. At some point.”
Riley raises an eyebrow.
“I want a space specifically for aerial yoga,” I say. “That’s why I have the hammocks, but I’m waiting for the others to come in because the seafoam was backordered. And this”—I pause, tugging on the hoop—“is really just for fun right now. I probably won’t be teaching anything with an aerial hoop for a while.”
Narrowing his eyes, Riley stares at the hoop. “What do you do with it exactly?”
I chew on the inside of my cheek and look at the ground. I normally would have to pull myself up into the hoop and not climb down into it. “Want to see a party trick?”
Before Riley can answer, I grab onto the cord holding the ring and step from the ladder. He gasps and even though I’m not looking at him, I can sense he sways back and forth, unsure if he should stand under me or move back.
I haven’t been on a hoop in well over a year, so instead of showing off obnoxiously in a way that might get me hurt, I settle for something simple.
“They call this Man on the Moon ,” I tell him as I squat quickly so I can lower myself into the space and sink into the bottom curve of the hoop. Riley moves back just enough that I don’t kick him when I twist, holding the top with my left hand while I press my accompanying shoulder into the circle’s curve.
Once the pressure against my shoulder is secure enough, I raise my left leg up to the middle of the hoop and then, my right as high as I can, pointing it toward the ceiling.
It takes a second for me to trust my balance, but when I do, I release my hands and lean back. It’s impossible to hold the groan because the stretch just feels too good.
When I open my eyes, my gaze—though upside down—is nearly level with Riley’s. His mouth is slightly agape, his deep green eyes not quite focusing on mine, but definitely on me .
“What?” I ask.
“They should give it a better name than Man on the Moon ,” Riley says.
Arching my back, I coil my body up, inch-by-inch, until I can grab the ring with my hands and hoist myself back in to sit. The movement makes me sway back and forth.
Riley reaches out, pushing against the hoop so I swing more. When he does it again, his fingers brush against the bare skin of my thigh peeking out from behind my shorts.
I try to not make it too noticeable that I flinch. Because Riley won’t understand that it’s not in a bad way, like I’m afraid. Maybe it is bad, though, that the pad of his finger warms me.
That’s because you haven’t been touched by anyone in months.
I adjust myself in the hoop. “What would you call it then?”
His eyes drift up to mine and he shakes his head.
“What?” I press. “Tell me.”
“I don’t know.” His lie is obvious.
“I think you do.”
Now, I swear I see the top of his cheeks flush. The color is something warm and peachy, like the sun has perfectly kissed his high cheekbones. It suits Riley—this bashful and embarrassed side. The flush against the deep green of his eyes makes him look…
Well, kind of handsome .
He gives the gentlest shake of his head and his eyes travel up to the cord suspending the ring from the ceiling and back down to me. “I’ve…I’ve just never seen anything like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you.”
I don’t know if it’s Riley’s words or if I’m just out of practice but my hand slips and it startles me enough that I fall backward.
Right into Riley’s arms. “Woah. Are you alright?”
I’m fine. I’m wondering if I should ask Riley that. Because he doesn’t put me down, in fact, he adjusts his arms, sliding down the one supporting me in the fold beneath my knees. The side of his firm forearm against my skin leaves a hot trail in its wake. I’m so shocked that I’m so aware of him that I grow kind of dizzy.
“Harper?”
I shake my head and raise my hips, signaling I want to get down.
Riley relinquishes his hold and before both of my feet hit the floor I’m already taking quick steps to put distance between us.
“Got it. Sorry. I had a call I just took it outside.” Caroline pushes through the curtain partition. “Weather is gorgeous today…” she pauses, staring at me.
“What?” I ask.
She cocks her head to the side. “Are you hot? You look kind of flushed.”
I immediately look away.
Riley approaches his sister and takes the canvas bag, opening it and looking at the contents before his head tilts up and he goes from facing me to turning completely to the side.
Well, now I know I’m not making things up. It’s beyond obvious he’s looking anywhere but at me.
“Thanks for these,” Riley tells her. Spinning on his heel, he heads toward the curtain before stopping. “Oh. As your attorney, I’m going to advise you to get some mats . And up your insurance policy. ”
I put my hands on my hips. “I haven’t retained you yet,” I remind him.
Riley smirks. “Oh, you will.”
Caroline gives me one long hard stare.
“I’ll see you at home,” Riley calls out before he pushes through the plastic curtain.
“What?” I ask Caroline.
“Did I miss something?”
I move toward the ladder to close it. “No.”
“I did, didn’t I?”
My face is burning.
“You two are being nice to each other. That’s kind of…odd.”
I fold the ladder and wait for her to help me carry it back to the side of the new studio space. “What do you think about this whole thing he’s doing to get Tides back?”
Caroline grunts as we lift the metal. “Does it matter?”
“I just want your opinion.”
She sighs. “When it comes to anything Riley is involved in, I’ve learned to keep my opinion to myself.”
I stop walking. “You don’t think he can do it?”
“I didn’t say that. I just said what I think doesn’t matter. Riley will figure out a way to get what he wants.”
The curtain still sways from when Riley walked through it and I wonder, exactly, what that is.
In the week or so since Lucas ran away from home, I’ve been met with the same scene every morning. And the more I see it, the more I am swept up in a feeling of sweet wholesomeness I used to have before Nate passed away.
I used to smile at my kitchen table after lengthy family meals, or when Nate and Lucas would team up against me in a game of Monopoly on a weekend afternoon. Those things were complicated by Riley, our forever plus one. But now, it’s his presence at the kitchen table as he taps a pencil against the wood and slides a paper across to Lucas that doesn’t just fill me up, but tops me off with extra joy to start my day.
My kitchen table might not look the way I always dreamed about—fit with the ideal family. But it’s a lot fuller now even with Nate’s empty chair. When I first catch sight of them, I think about the night Lucas ran away. It takes only a few seconds to realize, maybe Lucas didn’t run away from home, but to it. He ran to Riley…the person who he needs at this moment in his life.
“Gotcha,” Lucas puts down his pencil and dances in his seat.
Riley spoons cereal into his mouth. “Best of seven.” He taps the paper. “Let’s go.”
“The tic-tac-toe playoffs are going to have to wait. We need to get going, Lucas. Finish your breakfast and go upstairs and get dressed.” I look at the clock as I zip Lucas's lunch bag shut.
Clearly annoyed, Lucas lifts his cereal bowl to drink the left-over milk before placing it back on the table. “Can Riley take me to school?”
“I can’t today, Lucas. I have an appointment to get ready for.” When Lucas frowns, Riley adds, “Maybe tomorrow, if your mom says it’s okay.”
They both turn to me.
I love my kid, but the puppy dog face hasn’t worked on me in years. But now, it’s Riley’s soft, pleading smile that has me saying yes.
Between the two of them, I’m not so sure I have a say in the matter at all.
“Tomorrow. Fine,” I tell Lucas. “Now go get ready so we won’t be late. And don’t forget, Nana is picking you up today.”
It’s amazing how quickly Lucas can pack up and put away the pout.
I lift the box of sugary cereal I know I didn’t buy as Lucas speeds out the kitchen.
“No one likes Corn Flakes, Harper.” Riley stands, taking both bowls to the sink. I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to the sight of Riley doing dishes.
I put the box back into the pantry, catching sight of the dining room table, which is, well, a mess, but I did make a promise not to say anything. “Honestly, it’s fine if you want to take him today. We never really made an official schedule. I just don’t want you to feel obligated—”
“I don’t feel obligated ,” Riley responds, reaching for a dish towel. “But I really can’t. I’m being sworn into the Bar Association this morning and—”
“You’re what ?” I step closer. “What do you mean?”
“Even though I passed, I still have to—”
I hold up a hand. “No, I mean why didn’t you say anything?”
“I don’t know.” Riley shrugs. “It didn’t seem like that big a deal. It’s a formality. I just, you know, need to clean up, look presentable, get my paperwork in order. That’s why I can’t bring him.”
My eyes widen. “Not a big deal?”
Riley scratches the back of his head. “Not really.”
“Not really! Does Caroline know?”
“Yeah,” Riley says. “I needed her help with something for it.”
I purse my lips together, trying to decipher what I feel. I think I’m angry Riley didn’t even think to say something to me.
“It really isn’t a big deal.” He lifts his arms, stretching and I follow the length of his lean body, stopping at the trail of hair leading down to the band of his underwear peeking out from his pajama pants. “What? Did I spill something?”
I jump. “No…I just don’t understand why you didn’t tell me.”
Even though I don’t agree with Riley’s decision to keep the fact he took the Bar—and passed— to himself, I can understand it.
But not telling me about a ceremony to celebrate that achievement? That seems extreme.
“I told you,” Riley begins. “I took the Bar just to prove I could. ”
I fold my arms.
“And it ended there for me. I’m only moving forward with all of this because of you.”
“Because of me ?”
“I mean, Lucas. Too. Also.” He waves me off. “You know what I mean. Anything for Lucas is also something for you. That happens when you’re a package deal.”
Pressing my lips together, I nod. Lucas and I are one entity for Riley, a package deal. That’s why he’s doing this, and I’m happy, truly. I’m happy he’s going out of his way, devoting his time to make my son’s life better.
But I’m also happy that whether Riley will ever admit it or not, I’m factored into it somewhere.
And I want him to feel the same way.
“Well, in this house, we celebrate each other. So today, I plan to celebrate you.”
“What’s that?”
“Nothing.” I toss the posterboard into the backseat. Climbing into the front, I smooth out my dress before putting on my seatbelt, feeling Riley’s stare from the driver’s seat. “What?”
He turns on the engine. “I almost didn’t wear a monkey suit. You didn’t have to get dressed up.”
I look down at Riley’s navy suit, remembering the pants from Nate’s funeral. With his cast now gone, he’s able to pair them with the jacket.
But he doesn’t have a tie.
“Are you into the open collar look?” I ask.
“I’m into the no collar look.” Riley laughs before admitting, “I’m stuck with the shirt but I don’t have a tie.”
He’s about to go into Reverse when I reach out, putting my hand on his that holds the gear shift. "Wait a second. I'll be quick."
I dash back into the house and up to my room, pulling out a box from beneath the bed. I hate to make a mess of these things—of Nate’s things—that I set aside for Lucas, but I’ll put everything back together again later.
Running out to the car, I head to Riley’s door and open it. I hold up the tie. “Turn and face me.”
I can tell by the way Riley’s eyes linger on what I hold that he recognizes the tie and I expect him to object.
But he unclips his seatbelt and turns to let his legs dangle out of the car and lifts his chin, fastening the rest of the buttons before lifting the collar of his shirt. When I drape the tie around his neck, I’m careful with my movements. I avoid touching him.
That’s because I remember in the studio how he touched me. I think about the night in the hallway when he held me. And maybe there wasn’t anything more to it than innocence and it’s my painful loneliness making it into something it’s not.
But after I fasten the knot at his neck, I can’t help myself from reaching out and patting the fabric against his chest. And my hand can’t seem to not linger against him for an extra few seconds.
“There,” I say. “Now you’re perfect.”
“I guess I’m on par with you.”
I freeze in my seat.
“I meant, being all dressed up,” he clarifies.
“I guess it’s like a graduation. I’m sure your family didn’t show up to your college or law school graduation wearing sweatpants.”
Riley stays silent as he pulls onto the street.
“Caroline doesn’t even wear leggings on her way to work out,” I tell Riley. For sure he knows this. “She changes at the gym and before she leaves. Don’t tell me—”
“They didn’t come to any of my graduations,” Riley tells me. “To be fair, I didn’t go so there wasn’t much point. ”
I turn in my seat. “What do you mean you didn’t go? Why?”
I imagine, if I didn’t get my GED and went to high school, or if I went on to college, I’d want to celebrate that kind of accomplishment.
Riley pulls down his black wayfarers from the cupholder. “Didn’t really care to sit through a four-hour ceremony in college or law school. Nate was mad I skipped it.”
“I bet he was. You should’ve gone. We both would’ve come.”
He turns, peeking over the rims of his sunglasses so I can see his eyes. “Would you really?"
Pressing my lips together, I look at the posterboard. “I would’ve gone because Nate wanted me to,” I answer honestly. “But today, I’m coming because I want to.”