19. Harlow
Harlow
“You’re back,” Marcus snarled, looking me up and down. He clearly wasn’t impressed by my simple leggings and flannel outfit. He, of course, had managed to put on loafers and a button-up shirt, even just to come downstairs—always hating to be seen as unprepared.
I hesitated for a moment and took a long, steadying breath. “Sorry about the doorbell, I asked them not to ring it.”
I couldn’t believe this was the first time I’d spoken to him since I’d left him at that bar. But I kept my voice calm, trying to be the bigger person, even though I wanted to melt into the pavement.
“No, I’m glad I came down,” he replied with a bitter laugh. “All of this came here for my apartment.”
“This is my stuff,” I replied slowly. Confused.
“But you’ve left me short.” He eyed the boxes the movers were carrying behind me. “That was part of the deal, you live here and bring some of that nice furniture.”
“Well, the deal was also not to cheat on me, right?” I gritted my teeth. “And I’m not living here, am I?”
He was always like this, caring more about materialistic things rather than how anyone felt.
I’d been clouded by wanting to feel settled, but now I didn’t know what I ever saw in him.
He huffed. “I know. Storming off instead of having a conversation? It’s juvenile.”
“I don’t owe you a conversation.”
He brushed some non-existent stray hair from his eyes. “But you do owe me money to cover the loss of furniture.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You know, even text messages can be legally binding with the right lawyer.” He adjusted his collar with a smug grin.
My jaw dropped open. Of course he was just playing the lawyer card because of his successful family and the job they’d given him. He just wanted to make me feel small.
Deep down, I knew that his threat wouldn’t hold up. It was just payback for making him look bad. Yet, my heart pounded just as a shadow passed over me and a hand met my shoulder. It sent a warm shiver over my skin.
“Is this guy bothering you?” Jude’s voice came from behind me. It sounded deep and protective, and fuck, I just wanted to lean into him. His presence felt like home.
His plaid covered shoulders were rising and falling, and he looked like a bull about to charge. I looked back, trying to read the emotions on his face, but his gaze was locked on Marcus.
So I simply replied, “Yeah. He is.”
Those golden eyes met mine for a second before snapping back to my ex. “Do I need to tell you to piss off, or do you already know that she doesn’t want to speak to you?”
“Who are you?” Marcus tried to stand up taller, but had to raise his chin to meet Jude’s gaze. “This is my building.”
“This…” Jude gestured with a paper bag in his hand. I smiled, knowing that it was likely filled with warm bagels—a silver living. “Is just a damn street. And you’re not wanted here.”
“She owes me money.” Marcus’s face reddened as he turned to me. “So, you ran off and fucked somebody else? Well, now we’re even. Stop being immature.”
Jude squeezed my shoulder, his hand still hadn’t left.
I spat back, “I don’t owe you shit.”
Marcus had more money than he knew what to do with, and his apartment proved it. All he wanted was revenge.
“Fine. I’m better off now without you holding me back.” His slimy eyes gave Jude and me a judgemental look. “You have my details, Harlow, just send over enough to cover the furniture and be done with it.”
“That’s enough.” Jude’s hand dropped and he stepped in front of me. “If you want money, bring it up with her lawyers.”
Marcus tried to look past Jude. “Oh, so you have a lawyer now?”
I mean, I don’t. But I also didn’t dignify him with a response either.
Jude crossed his arms. “Or you can deal with me first. But I don’t think you’d hold up to either option.”
Marcus looked up at the man in front of him, glaring for a long moment, and then finally stormed back into the apartment building.
A shaky breath escaped me as I stood there staring at the door, absolutely dumbfounded by his behaviour.
I knew Marcus was shallow and liked to think he was above everyone, but that was something else.
That was the life I’d almost got caught up in. Petty, surface level, all about appearances. Nothing about it made me feel at home.
Jude grazed my shoulder once again. He pointed his chin to the movers waiting by the truck, pretending they hadn’t been listening in.
“I’ll go finish that up.”
“Wait.” I grabbed his hand. “I don’t have a lawyer. What if he asks?”
He shrugged, and a lopsided smile crossed his lips. “Bramley Farm has lawyers, so now you do, too. But he’s full of shit. I’m sure he won’t bother you again.”
I nodded, too tongue tied to say a word.
Jude started to help the movers, charming them with an easy smile as I leaned against a tree.
A flush of heat washed over me. I hated that Jude had seen that, and I hated that Marcus had treated me like dirt. I was a bit shaken, but the worst had passed. I had my clothes, my furniture, my things—all stuff I didn’t really need, but at least they were mine.
That settled me a bit as I stood on the street with my mind stuck on a loop.
I couldn’t stop replaying how Jude had stepped in front of me as Marcus yelled.
How he’d bought bagels to cheer me up.
And how he’d reassured me with a hand on my shoulder.
“Ready?” the man taking up all the space in my mind called out. “Let’s get home.”
I took in a breath of fresh air, hopped in the truck, and whispered, “Thank you.”
At first I thought he didn’t hear it, but his golden eyes met mine with a smile as we started driving west—back to Autumn Creek. And with every kilometer, my heart felt lighter again.