Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
September
This long-distance shit sucks.
I thought I missed Harlow before, but it’s nothing compared to how much my chest aches at being on the other side of the country from my girlfriend.
My girlfriend.
My giddy ass can’t stop saying it. Aside from a brief thing with Casey in high school and a semester-long relationship with this girl, Dina, from college, I’ve never had a girlfriend.
And, if I’m being completely honest, neither of those were that serious.
Casey and I were teenagers who have always made better friends than partners, and things with Dina were way more physical than emotional.
This is my first real relationship, and I’m glad it’s with Harlow.
The bell chimes as I push open the door to The Sweet Spot.
My gaze snaps to Harlow instantly, as if beckoned to her.
She’s distracted, helping this little girl pack on what looks like every single topping in their inventory onto a cup of vanilla ice cream.
The girl’s mom looks on, eyes wide and with a hand covering her mouth.
“Anything else, Victoria?” Harlow asks with a wry grin.
The little girl taps her chin, then brightens. “Cheesecake bites.”
“You already got cheesecake bites,” her mom says.
“Never too many.” Harlow plops two pieces on top of the overflowing cup. She holds it up. “All set?”
Victoria nods enthusiastically, then squeals in delight as Harlow hands it to her. The mom holds out a credit card; Harlow waves her away.
“Come on, she chose one of everything. It’s the least I can do.”
Harlow shakes her head. “I’m sorry, but a deal’s a deal.” She gives Victoria a proud smile. “You earned it.”
The little girl giggles, and her mom smiles fondly. “Victoria, what should you say to Ms. Harlow?”
“Thank you!” Victoria beams.
“No problem,” Harlow tells her, and the mom who mouths another “thank you.” Harlow watches them head toward a table, a proud glint in her eyes. I know I have a matching one in mine.
I’ve never visited Harlow at work before, but I remember the way she used to talk about her day.
How unsure and nervous she was about her abilities and questioning if she could do it—if she could successfully run this business.
But the Harlow standing before me now is a different woman.
She’s confident and composed, I can see it in the way she moves behind the counter and the way she talks about her employees on our nightly FaceTimes.
She’s a competent business owner, and I’m so fucking proud of her.
Her gaze scans over me, and she does a double take, her jaw falling open. Before I can say anything, Mom appears from the back room. “Oh, good. You’re here early. Let me finish one thing up, and I’ll be ready to go.”
“Take your time,” I say as I approach the register where Harlow has moved to. Mom disappears in the back room again. I smile at Harlow and whisper, “Hi.”
“Hey, baby,” she says so softly and with so much longing I nearly melt. I set my hands, palms down, on the counter between us. Harlow edges her hand forward to caress the back of mine once before hooking our pinkies together.
“See you tonight?” I ask.
She nods. Thankfully, this isn’t the first time we’re seeing each other in person this trip.
I lied to my family and flew in a day earlier, so I spent all yesterday with Harlow and Daisy.
Yet, it still hurts not to be able to kiss her hello or goodbye.
I want to hug her and feel her warm body pressed against mine, but my mom will be back any second.
Harlow and I agreed to keep things a secret a little longer. She’s not worried about my mom rescinding her offer to help—those two have developed this super tight bond that’s actually very sweet—but it was me who asked for more time.
My family has been insufferable in their attempts to convince me to move back.
They’ve always been persistent, but it’s been worse since the arrival of my niece.
Little baby Lindsay Lewis is adorable, and she’s the reason I’m in town—well, one of the reasons.
Taylor gave birth three weeks ago to a seven-pound three-ounce bundle of perfection.
“Ready?”
Harlow and I jolt apart at the sound of Mom’s voice. With great effort, I peel my gaze away from my girlfriend and smile at my mom. “Ready.”
“So what’s the story with Ms. One Hundred Toppings?” I ask Harlow later that night when we’re taking Daisy for her last walk of the day. It’s a chilly fall evening, so we’re dressed comfortably in warm clothes as we stroll hand in hand down a quiet sidewalk.
I stole one of Harlow’s hoodies off her bed, and I love how much it smells like her. She won’t be getting this one back.
“Huh? Oh! Victoria?” She smiles. “She and her mom are regulars. Last week, I could tell her mom was super exhausted and losing her patience trying to get Victoria to study for her math test. I know she has a massive sweet tooth, so I told her if she studied really hard and got an A, I’d make her an ice cream with as many toppings as she wants for free. ”
“Oh, my god.” I squeeze her hand. “That was so sweet of you!”
Harlow shrugs modestly. “How was lunch with your mom?”
“Really nice,” I say, letting her change the subject since I know she doesn’t like when people gush over her—even if I still do, often, anyway.
“We don’t always get a chance to spend one-on-one time together, so I enjoyed it.
” I bump my shoulder into hers. “Don’t be jealous.
I’m pretty sure you’re her favorite daughter still. ”
Harlow laughs. “I thankfully don’t have any strong competition.”
“Hey!” I squeeze her side, and she ducks back from reach. Daisy abandons the leaf she was sniffing to turn back toward us, tail wagging.
“But in all seriousness, I am really thankful for her,” Harlow says. I take her hand again, knowing this is a sensitive subject and wanting to be close to her in a way I can’t when we talk on the phone.
“I know, baby.”
Harlow shared more with me about the relationship—and the lack thereof—she’s had with her parents.
A mother who saw the divorce as an opportunity to live her best independent single life.
Ladies’ nights out several times a week.
Multiple dates booked every weekend. She did the bare minimum to acknowledge she even had children, but it was still better than her father, who, within three months of shared custody, stopped bothering making excuses for why he couldn’t take the girls on his scheduled weekend and abandoned them altogether.
It’s why her relationship with her uncle Tim meant so much to her and why his loss cut so deeply.
My mom’s really been there for Harlow, between mentoring her so her uncle’s business thrived and allowing her the space to fall in love with the work and come to see The Sweet Spot as her own to making sure that asshole George never messages Harlow again and stops running his mouth on social media.
“Yeah, so …” Harlow tugs on her earlobe, something she only does when she’s nervous. Seeing it now makes my heart race as panic floods my bloodstream. “I … was wondering if we could tell her about us?”
I blow out a subtle, steadying breath. She’s not ending things. Okay, but … wait.
“You want to tell her?”
“Yeah.” She gives a tiny, almost unsure shrug. Daisy stops to sniff a trash can that was left on the curb, and we wait for her. “I don’t know. She can tell there’s something going on with me, and I feel like I’m lying every time I blow it off. Plus, I feel like she’ll be really happy for us.”
“She’ll be ecstatic,” I grumble. Harlow frowns at my less-than-pleasant tone. “I’m sorry,” I say quickly. “It’s not … Just … everyone has been worse than usual with all the hints and outright suggesting I move back. And if we tell her, she won’t understand why I’ll never live in Michigan again.”
Harlow’s face falls.
“Harlow?” I let go of her hand and turn to face her fully. “You know I’ll never live here again, right?”
We had this conversation months ago. She understood, at least I thought she did.
“Yeah, yes, of course,” she says, but she won’t meet my eye. She’s staring down at the gravel beneath our feet.
“Look, they won’t get why unless I tell them about Mikayla and Gabby, and I can’t do that.”
“I know that.” Harlow meets my gaze now.
“I do. And I’d never ask you to move for me, we only technically just started dating three months ago—and this is the first time we’re seeing each other in person since then, but …
I don’t know.” She tugs on her earlobe. “It feels like we’ve been together longer.
I can’t stop thinking about you or imagining what our future could look like. ”
“Our future?”
Harlow flashes me a shy smile. “I’ve been trying to hold off on saying this in case it’s too soon, but yeah, our future, Lily. Because I’m in love with you, and I want a future with you.”
My mind reels.
The words should fill me with warmth. They should have me bouncing on my toes and throwing my arms around her so I can pepper her face with kisses and tell her I feel the same. Because I do, don’t I?
Only that’s not what’s happening inside me.
No. My lungs tighten, and I’m having trouble breathing. It’s like the hoodie I’m wearing is suddenly covered with gaping holes, and the chilly night air has snaked into my bones, leaving me cold and confused.
Harlow frowns. “Lily?”
My mind spins, trying to think of something—anything—to say when Daisy lunges forward, losing her shit.
The leash is almost ripped from Harlow’s hand, but she secures her grip at the last second as Daisy barks and growls at a small black blur that darts through a clump of dried leaves.
It takes me a moment to process the blur, and it’s only when it reaches another, much larger, black blur do I recognize them for what they are: raccoons.
“Shit,” Harlow grumbles and tugs backward on Daisy’s leash. The momma raccoon makes herself big, standing on two feet, arms spread wide, as she hisses. “Daisy, come on. Daisy!”
Daisy listens, allowing Harlow to pull her back, although she never takes her eyes off the raccoons until we’re well down the street and turning a corner.
“Damn, that could’ve been ugly,” I say.
Harlow nods. “This girl is all bark, no bite, and I was not in the mood to take her in for a rabies booster.”
We catch each other’s eye and chuckle. Daisy’s practically prancing, her tongue sticking out and tail wagging. She keeps glancing back toward where we left the raccoons like she’s ready to finish what she started.
“Yes, you’re our big, strong protector,” Harlow tells her affectionately. Daisy drops her head and presses it between us, inviting us both to shower her with pets, we happily oblige. It’s only another block until we’re back at Harlow’s. I’m relieved we don’t pick back up our earlier conversation.
“Is it okay if we go to bed early? I’m kind of tired,” I say once we’ve kicked our shoes off inside the entryway and she’s shuffling out of her coat.
“Yeah, of course.” Harlow catches my hand. “Are you okay?”
I give her a thin smile and nod. “Just tired.”
Her forehead is scrunched, and she looks like she can tell I’m lying. I hold my breath, but she doesn’t question me further.
I’m not sure how I feel that she doesn’t.