5. Chapter 5
Grayson
Harlow’s staring out the window of my car, shifting back and forth in his seat. He’s been quiet this morning. Far more quiet than usual.
I’ve been quiet too. Mostly because I’m sure if I say anything at all, it’s going to make things worse.
Josh will be a permanent member of my shit list. The vulnerability and sadness in Harlow’s voice when he asked me why Josh wouldn’t want to be married to him cut me to my core.
I still can’t get his words out of my head now, and I’m not sure if I ever will.
Someone not wanting to be married to Harlow is impossible for me to imagine. He’s sunshine in human form, the best part of my day, and the best friend a person could ask for.
How someone could have that and want to throw it away is beyond me. If I were in Josh’s shoes, I would have been thanking my lucky stars every day for the gift of having Harlow Young as my husband.
Fucking idiot.
I honestly feel like the worst friend ever, though, because under the pain of seeing Harlow hurt is… relief. Potent fucking relief.
I’d never want Harlow to be hurt. Not at all, and I feel like a piece of shit for that little bit of relief, but I can’t deny it’s there.
In less than forty-eight hours, I went from accepting that my best friend—the man I’ve loved for as long as I’ve known love existed—was marrying someone else to having him living back under my roof and being just mine.
Maybe not mine in the ways I want. But mine all the same.
“What if Josh is there?”
Harlow’s voice pulls me from my thoughts, and I glance over at him. “I’ll go get your stuff. You don’t have to go in.”
He shakes his head with a sigh. “I kinda want to. Like… I want him to know he didn’t get me all fucked up, you know? Is that dumb?”
“Not dumb,” I say.
“Plus,” Harlow rambles on, “he didn’t like my friendship with you anyway, so it’ll be fun for me, I think, for him to see us together and shit.”
Pain shoots through my stomach. Doesn’t really feel the best to be used to make Josh jealous. But for better or worse, I’ll do anything for Harlow.
“I don’t mean that in a bad way,” he mumbles. “Not like I’d want to use you or anything. But it’s like—” He stops, quickly shaking his head, like he’s shaking thoughts away.
“I get it,” I say, even though I really don’t.
He turns his head to look at me. His hair is an absolute fucking mess today.
Probably because I had my fingers in it for most of the night.
I’ve gotten used to not being able to touch Harlow the way I want to.
I won’t say it isn’t torture because it really fucking is, but it’s become normal.
Especially with Josh in the picture. There were lines I wouldn’t let myself cross, things I wouldn’t let myself express or show.
Harlow’s tactile with me. Always has been. But for me, the line between touching his wild curls and sinking my fingers into them and dragging him into me for a kiss is razor thin.
It’s best not to risk it.
“I know it sounds bad,” Harlow finally says. “Our friendship was always the thing he couldn’t touch.” He shrugs. “Might be nice to let him see that I’m fine and that I still have you.”
“You’ll always have me,” I say automatically.
“I know.”
I’m saved from having to say anything as we pull into the driveway of Josh’s house. His obnoxious car is sitting in the driveway, and Harlow makes a small sound in the back of his throat that has my stomach tightening.
“You really can stay in the car,” I say, turning off the engine and shifting to face him.
He shakes his head. “Nope. I need to see him. More than that, I need him to see me.”
I study his face for a second before sighing. “Alright, then. Let’s go.”
He steels himself, then climbs out of the car. I don’t want him to go in by himself, so I rush after him, trying to catch up when he nearly sprints to the front door.
I’m expecting him to knock on it, but he pulls a key from his pocket and unlocks it, then steps right in like he owns the place.
Josh is sitting on the couch, and when the door opens and we step inside, his head shoots up and he looks between the two of us.
If I’m being real, he looks like he’s more fucked up about leaving Harlow at the altar than Harlow is.
I’d almost feel sorry for the guy if I didn’t hate him so damn much.
His chestnut hair is lying across his forehead in a way it usually never is, and his eyes are red-rimmed, like he’s been crying.
I’m not sure why. It’s not like Harlow left him.
“I’m here to get my suitcase,” Harlow says, straightening his shoulders and holding his head high as he looks at Josh.
I watch as Josh’s throat bobs, then he nods. “Alright.”
Without another word, Harlow walks off toward the hallway and disappears from view. I stand in the living room, watching Josh.
There’s something… off about him, but I don’t know what, exactly.
“Is he going to be okay?”
The question surprises me, and I forget to be diplomatic. “Why the fuck do you care?”
Something flashes across his face—there and gone quicker than I can figure it out. Before he can answer me, though, Harlow walks back into the living room, dragging his suitcase behind him.
“Alright. I’ve got it.”
Josh’s attention snaps to Harlow, and a sad smile passes over his face before he pushes to his feet.
“You don’t have to move out right away. I know I made a mess of things, so take all the time you need and take the guest room if you want.
Or—” He stops talking, and my eyebrows shoot up.
“Or,” he continues, “if you don’t want to be around me at all, you can stay here, and I can—I can stay with Andy. ”
I cock my head, staring at him.
Harlow raises his eyebrows. “Oh, I’m not, like, moving out or anything. Not until we get back.”
Josh glances between the two of us. “Get back?”
“From Vegas,” I say. “I’m taking Harlow on your honeymoon.”
Harlow laughs, and I realize how it sounds too, but if all Josh gets from me is a little bit of petty and no black eyes, he should count himself lucky.
“You ready to go?” I ask, turning my attention to Harlow.
He shoots me a blinding smile. “Yep.” Glancing at Josh, he sets his mouth in a flat line. “I’ll be back next week. Gray and I will come get the rest of my stuff then.”
“I’m serious about you staying here,” Josh says. “Take as long as you need.”
“There is no need,” I say quickly.
“What he said.” Harlow points at me. “I’m moving in with Gray. Thanks, though.”
Harlow turns on his heel, making his way to me, and I meet him halfway, taking his massive suitcase from him.
“See ya next week,” Harlow calls over his shoulder before he walks right out the door.
I follow him without sparing Josh another glance and close it behind me.
As soon as the door’s shut, Harlow looks at me. “What even was that? Why was he acting like a kicked puppy?”
I shrug. “Hell if I know. Fucking weirdo.”
“You’d think I left him at the altar and not the other way around.”
Well, he’s not wrong.
“You ready to go?” I ask, opening the trunk and tossing Harlow’s suitcase inside.
“Sure am.” He smiles at me for a second before it melts away. “Never did get my hair shit from Mom.”
After walking around the side of the car and opening Harlow’s door for him to climb in, I shrug. “We can run by there before we go, or you can just not worry about it.”
He laughs. “Yeah, being in Vegas with my hair like this.” He points to the messy curls. “I’m sure you’d just love to be seen with me out in public like this.”
I frown. “I love your curls. Especially when they’re like this.” I reach out, and Harlow’s eyes track the motion of my hand as it gets closer. Halfway through, I realize what I’m doing and drop it. “We can get them if you want, but it doesn’t bother me either way.”
Harlow’s throat bobs as he swallows. “Okay. Let’s just get to the airport, then.”
I can’t help the little thrill that shoots through me. A whole week with just Harlow? No fiancé, no work, no responsibilities? It feels too good to be true. Maybe I am a shitty friend.
“Harlow Young.”
The woman at the reception desk types Harlow’s name into the computer, reading over something on her screen before smiling at us. “Congratulations! Let me get you checked in and get your room key.”
Harlow drums his fingers on the counter, practically bouncing on his toes. He’s far more excited than I thought he would be given everything that’s happened in the last twenty-four hours.
The woman—Rebecca, according to her name tag—hands Harlow a key card.
“Thank you!”
He turns to me with a smile. “You ready?”
“You know it.”
I pull our suitcases behind us as we walk across the marble floor toward the expansive elevators. It’s a nice hotel. Probably not the nicest in the city by any means, but I think it’ll be fine for us to spend a week hanging out together.
Harlow presses the button for the elevator, and the door opens almost immediately.
Our room is near the top, and I stare at Harlow as the elevator climbs the floors.
He’s so fucking gorgeous, and even after the flight, I can’t drag my eyes away from him.
His cheeks are flushed, the smattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks even more pronounced than usual, and his eyes are shining and bright.
My heart gives a dull throb in my chest.
And this is why I didn’t wish for Harlow to not get married. It would have done nothing for me.
Harlow is single.
I’m still in love with him.
And… it changes nothing.
Not being able to marry someone else didn’t change how he felt about me. It didn’t change how he looked at me. It changed nothing. Not that I expected it to. And wishing for his pain to ease my own would do nothing besides make me feel like shit for not wanting him to be with someone else.
“Are you excited?” I ask softly, needing to get some fucking equilibrium back.
He nods, his hair flopping. Fuck me. Maybe I miscalculated. Maybe I shouldn’t have done this at all. I haven’t spent nearly as much time with Harlow as I used to, and having this much of him might send me over the edge.
When the elevator lurches to a stop at our floor, he doesn’t get off. He just cocks his head. “Are you excited?”
“I am.”
He wrinkles his nose. “Doesn’t seem like it.”
Mustering up a smile, I step off the elevator. “Of course I am.” I stop, looking both ways down the hallway. “Which way?”
Harlow glances at the key card and then up before gesturing to the left. He leads the way to the room, and when he unlocks the door and pushes it open, I nearly run into him with how quickly he stops walking.
“Oh shit.”
“What?” I ask, trying to look past him.
“Well… I, uh… forgot.”
“Forgot what?” I ask, finally able to see what he’s talking about. “Oh.”
The single bed in the room is covered in rose petals, and they’re dotted across the floor. There’s a bucket sitting on the small kitchen counter with ice and a bottle of champagne.
There are what look like chocolate-covered strawberries sitting beside the champagne.
I swallow so hard my throat clicks, but thankfully Harlow is too busy rattling off apologies to hear it.
“I didn’t even think about this. I’m so sorry.
We can find something else. With two beds and no wedding shit.
How does a person just forget that this was supposed to be a honeymoon?
Well, apparently it happens, since it happened to me.
What the hell. I really am sorry, Gray. Let’s find something else. ”
He turns quickly, then walks directly into me, like he forgot I was standing here too.
I can’t help but laugh as I grip his arms and force him backward a little so I can look at him. “It’s okay.”
His mouth opens like he’s going to talk more, and I love, fucking love with my entire heart, listening to Harlow talk, but if there was ever a time I wish I could kiss him to shut him up, it’s right now.
“Harlow.” His mouth closes. “This is fine. Really.”
I smile at him. He’s so fucking adorable and rambly, and I don’t even know what else to do. What else can you do? Hell, even I knew it was a honeymoon and didn’t think about what that might mean.
“Are you sure?”
I nod. “Positive. I mean… you slept in my bed last night. It’s not like it’s unheard of for us to share a bed.”
His eyebrows rise, and he cocks his head. “Yeah, but last night I needed you. It was different.”
“Well, maybe now I need you.” Harlow’s eyes blow wide, and my face flashes with heat as my words register. “I mean… I just mean—if that helps you rationalize or whatever. Tomorrow night, you can need me again.”
Fuck. Jesus fuck.
Harlow pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, then releases it with a giggle. “Okay. You’re right. It’s fine.”
“Exactly.”
I drop my hands, and he steps back, grabbing his suitcase and dragging it toward the bed. When he plops onto it, the rose petals jump, and he laughs again, running his hand along the mattress and sending more petals flying.
I have to close my eyes because the visual is almost more than I can take.
Oh, this is gonna be a long fucking week.