Chapter 9 #2
Antoni chuckles as I shake his hand. “Only to her work, honey.”
I don’t even get to ask what he means by that before Harper walks through the door. “Holy balls that was one heck of a traffic jam.”
“Hi, Mom!”
“Hey Bud!” Harper says, smiling at Connor. She then turns to me and Antoni, our hands still shaking. “Oh, good, you two have met.”
“Yeah,” I say, nodding. “Antoni here tells me he’s your husband.”
Harper stops and gives Antoni an incredulous glance that he shrugs off with a laugh. “Work husband,” she explains. “Harrison, this is Antoni Barry, the man I refer to as my work husband because we’ve worked for the same agency for so long we’ve become best friends.”
“Work husband,” I repeat, glancing between them, my jealousy calming though not quite dissipating.
“We’re also neighbors,” Antoni tells me, gesturing to the door. “I live next door so I’m here a lot and help out with Connor from time to time. The kid loves to kick my ass at Mario Kart.”
Connor laughs. “He’s right about that. Want to play a round?”
Antoni lifts his finger. “I’ve got time for one round…as long as it’s not Rainbow Road.”
Connor giggles. “Moo-Moo Meadows it is. Come on!”
“Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Meers,” Antoni says as he steps past me. “We hear a lot about you around this place. Big fans, of course.”
“Yeah, uh, sorry,” I say feeling a bit sheepish. “I didn’t mean to have an attitude.”
He laughs. “Of course, you did, but it’s all good.
Nice to know Connor’s got someone looking out for him.
” He picks up a video game controller from the coffee table while Connor sets up their game and leans toward me one more time to say, “And don’t worry about me.
I won’t get in the way of whatever’s going on here.
” He gestures between Harper and me. “I don’t play for team papaya if you get my drift. I’m more of an eggplant guy.”
Antoni winks and then takes a seat next to Connor on the couch.
Harper’s gaze flicks past me to the kitchen table and my stomach tightens because I already know what she’s looking for.
The photos are still scattered right where Connor left them earlier.
Right after he asked—with all the tact of a ten-year-old boy—why his mom had a bunch of old lovey-dovey photos with me.
Harper walks into the kitchen like she’s approaching a crime scene and I follow quietly behind her.
“I can explain,” she blurts at a whisper hastily picking up the photos from the table.
I lean against the counter, crossing my arms but keeping my voice gentle. “You don’t have to—”
“No, I do.” She presses her fingertips to her temples. “I left them out. I didn’t mean to. I had to run out to meet a client and then…ugh…God, Harrison, I’m so sorry.”
“Harper.” I step closer to help her pick up the remaining photos. “It’s fine.”
She huffs out a breath. “It’s a little mortifying.”
I look down at the photos in my hand.
Us.
Sunburned and stupid on spring break.
Her in my T-shirt, my arm around her waist.
Her kissing my jaw.
Me kissing her neck.
Us tangled in a hammock.
Her laughing into my mouth.
They’re a punch to the chest for sure. I’d forgotten how young we were. How easy everything felt.
How quickly I knew she was the one.
I pick up another, a Polaroid of her sitting on my lap on the beach, her hand in my hair, my smile pressed against her shoulder. My chest tightens just looking at the moment I so vividly remember.
“You kept all these.”
“Yeah.” She winces like the word stings. “I mean, I shouldn’t have. But I just…” She shakes her head. “I couldn’t throw them away.”
My pulse trips. “Why did you have them out?”
She swallows, throat working. “I was looking for something, and I…got distracted.”
“What were you looking for?”
She pauses. “I don’t know. A memory, I think. That week…it was the last time I remember feeling that—” She cuts herself off. “You know what? It doesn’t matter.”
“It does,” I answer quickly, my voice dipping without permission. “What were you feeling?”
Her eyes lift slowly, reluctantly, like she’s terrified of the truth waiting between us.
“Happy,” she whispers, staring down at the photos. “Stupidly, overwhelmingly happy.” She huffs a soft laugh. “I think those years together…they were the only time I’ve ever been truly happy. Content, you know?”
Hell yes, I know.
I know exactly what she means.
I was truly happy then too.
On top of the fucking world.
Silence crashes over the room.
“Life has a way of knocking us down a bit from time to time, huh?”
She nods wordlessly before finally murmuring, “Yeah.”
I take a step toward her and she doesn’t move away.
“You could’ve thrown them out,” I say softly.
“I know.”
“But you didn’t.”
“No,” she breathes.
“Why?”
She looks at the photo in my hand—her and me, sunlit and recklessly close—and her voice goes barely audible.
“I needed the reminder. And…because part of me never really stopped…” Her lips press together and she shakes her head. “I don’t know. Holding onto you, I guess. Holding on to the happiness we had in the only way I was allowed.”
“You didn’t move on?”
She rolls her eyes like what I’ve just asked her might be the dumbest question on the face of the earth.
“Did you?”
Touche.
“If you’re asking if I’ve been in a serious relationship over the last ten years, the answer is no. I haven’t.”
“Why?”
“Honestly?”
“I think we both deserve full transparency now, don’t we?”
Okay. Here goes. “Because you ripped my heart out when you left and quite frankly I wasn’t the least bit interested in having that happen again.”
She bows her head. “Ouch. I guess I deserved that.”
“Harper,” I mutter. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for that to sound spiteful. It was just…however hard it may have been for you, it was equally as hard for me. And now…” I gesture toward the living room where my son is currently playing video games with another man.
Work husband be damned.
I’m not the one out there playing with my kid and that’s not okay with me.
She finally meets my eyes, a flush creeping up her neck.
“Just because I left you, Harrison,” she says, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, “it doesn’t mean I ever stopped loving you.
” Her voice drops to nearly a whisper. “At the time I thought I was doing what was best for you. I loved you that much.”
Suddenly the air changes, thickening between us. I set the photo on the table with deliberate care, like any sudden movement might shatter us all over again.
“You don’t have to be embarrassed,” I reassure, noticing how she shifts her weight, how her fingers fidget with the edge of her sleeve.
I guide her chin up with the side of my finger so I can see her eyes when I tell her, “Not about having feelings, then or now. I just froze when Connor cornered me. That’s all. I didn’t know what to say.”
She nods, her lashes fluttering, and then she bites her lip. “What did you say?”
“Well, he saw the one of us kissing and asked if we were boyfriend and girlfriend back then and I told him the truth. I told him we knew each other a long time ago and told him that you were very special to me.”
“I’m sorry, H.”
My pulse thuds in my throat. “And then he asked me if I still liked you.” I move closer, close enough to feel the warmth coming off her skin.
“He…he did?” she asks, her voice trembling, her chest rising.
“Yeah. He did.”
Her lips part. “And um, do you?”
My voice drops to a rumble. “Do I what?”
She pauses for a beat, as if she doesn’t want to ask the question I’m forcing her to ask.
“Do you um, like me?”
Even though I was braced for it, her question hits me like a shot straight to the ribs.
I lift my hand slowly, giving her time to pull away, but she doesn’t.
My fingers brush her jaw, the softest touch, and she closes her eyes like she’s been waiting for it.
Like she’s welcoming it. Like she’s waiting for me to lean down and press my lips to hers.
When I don’t, she whispers, “I swear I didn’t mean to leave the photos out, H.
I didn’t mean for Connor to find them. I was just… reminiscing.”
“A time when you truly felt happy,” I remind her.
She breathes against me, eyes still closed. “Yes.”
“A time when you were truly happy…with me.”
Her eyes open and she meets my gaze, dark and urgent. “Yes.”
I drop my head so my lips graze the shell of her ear. “Then I’ll ask the real question,” I tell her, my thumb brushing the corner of her mouth. “Do you still want me,” I murmur, “or just the memory of me?”
She sucks in a breath, sharp and unsteady, and then she steps into me, close enough that her chest grazes mine. Close enough that I can feel every word she doesn’t say. “I don’t lock memories away in drawers,” she whispers. “I keep them because I’m not done with them yet.”
Fuck me.
She still wants me.
She’s here for me.
The idea that I could potentially find my forever with Harper sends a jolt of electric anticipation through my body and my control snaps a little.
It’s not a complete break, but just enough to let her in.
To give her a taste of what I’m feeling.
I might not be one hundred percent ready to give her my whole heart but fuck, knowing she might just take it back if I offer it to her makes this a thousand times easier.
I lean down, mouth hovering a breath from hers. I’m damn well sure I could kiss her if I wanted to and I don’t think she would stop me.
God, how badly I want to.
To feel her.
To taste her.
To see if the memory of our lips together is just as I remember it.
“Good,” I breathe, my voice a low, hungry rumble. “Because neither am I.”