Chapter 18 #2
“This is amazing.” I reach into the pile of change lined up for the chute to oblivion. “Look!” I shove a silver hoop earring in his face.
“An earring?” Harlan scratches a spot above his eyebrow.
“I’ve been looking for this earring for five months. Do you know what a find this is?” I draw the earring up and survey the damage. A little polish will go a long way.
Harlan squints. “Meredith, you’re acting like you won the lottery.”
I glance around, and sure enough, an older couple at the customer service desk is staring at us. The coin machine happens to be next to the lotto machine.
“I did win the lottery. It’s my lost earring.”
The woman at the service desk holds up her phone and takes a picture of Harlan and me.
“That woman just captured you trading in coins for cash,” I say, “and I’m a little worried that picture is going to go viral with some post about a destitute actor collecting coins.”
He glances at the woman and back to me. “Good. Keeps them guessing. Tell me more about this earring.”
I hold it close to his face. “I thought I was losing my mind. I couldn’t find this earring anywhere. I never replaced it because I refused to believe it was gone.”
I rub it with my shirttail while Harlan finishes processing the coins. As I float on the clouds of my earring victory, we take our receipt from the machine to the customer service desk.
“I can’t believe it. Can you believe it?” Gliding to the car, I cradle the treasured jewelry in my hand.
He opens my car door for me. “Sweetheart, how much did that earring cost you?”
“Well, the pair was $20.” I hold it out for him to take another look at my precious commodity. “So not cheap.”
He glances down at the earring. “Uh-huh.”
“What?” I ask as he closes my door.
He rounds the car and gets into the passenger seat. “Refreshing.”
I put the key in the ignition and start the car. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“We just traded in coins for $527.45 worth of cash. Mind you, not a shabby amount. But you are doing the happy dance because you found the lost half of earrings costing $20. A pair you refused to replace five months ago when you noticed it was gone.”
I look back over my shoulder for pedestrians and catch his gaze. “And?”
“And that makes you . . . refreshing.”
I am so zeroed in on getting ready to reverse the car, I don’t notice him closing the gap between us. I turn my head and his face is an inch from mine. “Oh.”
He pulls back and glances to my lips. “Olivia is financially conniving. It gets exhausting.”
If he had punched me in the stomach, it would have felt better.
No. No, I counter myself. The hit to the gut is good. I needed a reality check.
“I’m sorry about that.” My voice sounds flatter than I want it to be. I adjust the rearview mirror and put my hand on the gearshift.
Harlan covers my hand with his and stops the reverse motion. “Hey. Are you okay?”
“Fine.” I force my brightest smile.
“Meredith.” Concern etches his face, and he squeezes my hand. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing. I need to get back to my family, and you need to get back to yours.” Tears sting my nose.
“I need to—” He stares out the front of the car for a long moment, then back to me. “Why do I have the feeling no one in your family knew I might come today?”
My face fills with heat, and those stupid, stupid tears threaten to spill. I shrug and turn to look out the driver’s side window.
He leans over and angles himself to me. “Did you not think I was coming?”
I curl a strand of hair around my ear. “How would I have known you were coming?” My quivering voice does nothing to help my effort to appear casual.
“How would you have—” Harlan slams his body back into the seat. “Because I told you I was coming. That’s how we left things. I was coming for Thanksgiving.”
“That’s how we left things? On Sunday, this week, you said you didn’t know if you could make it.” A tear escapes and I quickly wipe it away.
“Yes.” His hand swoops through the air. “But on Sunday I also told you to assume I was coming unless you heard otherwise. That I thought I could work it out. That’s how we left things.”
My face is on fire for a different reason now. “Harlan, I barely heard from you for six weeks. How was I supposed to know what you were thinking?”
He shakes his head. “Sweetheart, I told you this shoot was going to be intense and you might not hear from me much. In the middle of it all, I had some unexpected travel . . . There was just a lot going on. But I’m confused.” He turns to take my hands in his. “I thought we were on the same page.”
“Harlan, I heard your words.” I huff. “But I mean, what woman thinks a guy is still interested when all he gives her are a few voicemails, texts, and conversations that don’t last more than ten minutes?”
“But I sent you a blanket,” he says.
My indignation deflates some at the mention of his incredibly thoughtful gift on Chloe’s birthday. “You did,” I say quietly. “And I truly appreciated it. I just found the rest of your actions really confusing.”
“But that’s how we left things. At the hotel. I told you to trust me.”
I pull my hands back. “It was, Harlan. It’s how we left things. And for seven glorious minutes, I thought I could do it. Right up until I ran back into the hotel to go to the bathroom and I saw you holding Olivia.” The last few words are pushed through a tremble, and two more tears escape.
Harlan closes his eyes. “Olivia.” The guttural word is said like a curse. He rubs his hands over his face.
I swipe away tears and release a breath. My body mirrors his, and we both stare out the front of the car in silence.
“I was ecstatic, Meredith. You got on that shuttle, and I felt hope I haven’t felt in a long time. And then my feet hit the lobby. Olivia was there, tears streaming down her face, holding our daughter.” He shakes his head. “Her dad had just gotten a terminal pancreatic cancer diagnosis.”
A pit forms in my stomach.
“I make it a point to interact with Olivia as little as possible,” he says. “But Alex’s PawPaw was sick. And in the moment you saw, I had to make a choice to support my daughter by supporting her mother.”
I feel sick.
I know better than to jump to conclusions, but I hurled myself off the cliff without a parachute anyway.
“You’re a good daddy,” I whisper.
“Olivia’s family is in Denver. I’ve spent the last six weeks traveling back and forth with Alex in tow. My director wasn’t pleased with me. We moved her dad twice. Alex got sick. Olivia kept calling, and she was a complete mess every time I picked up the phone.”
Leaning forward to rest my forehead on the steering wheel, I shake my head. I failed him. He needed support from me, and instead I distanced myself.
He runs a hand over his face. “He passed away, and the funeral was Tuesday. I didn’t know if Olivia could still handle having Alex for Thanksgiving, but I didn’t want to cancel on you.”
I sit up and ask gently, “Why didn’t you say something?”
“I thought about it, but you were a little skittish before leaving Colorado. And I didn’t want Olivia seeping into our new relationship.
I was trying to protect you.” He presses against the headrest but turns his head to look at me.
“And none of that matters because your last image of me was with her.”
“She’s going to be in your life long-term, Harlan. Whoever you decide to have a relationship with will need to understand this and learn to cope.”
“Whoever I decide . . .” A dark expression covers his face before he masks it.
“This all sounds like a nightmare for you,” I say. “I wish I had known, just so I could have listened. Been a friend.”
“Whoever I decide to have a relationship with is you, Meredith.” He shakes his head, then looks at me, sincere and imploring. “I messed up. I should have told you everything. Right from the beginning. I’m so sorry.”
I nod, conflicted. He just told me he wanted to be in a relationship with me, and he apologized. But something is warring behind his eyes.
“But, Meredith,” he says. It’s not a tone I’ve heard from him. It’s frustrated, almost impatient. “I’m having a hard time right now understanding why you ghosted me.”
Almost offended at the thought, I say, “I didn’t ghost you.”
“You absolutely did.” I open my mouth to deny it, but he continues. “You didn’t respond to my texts. You didn’t return my calls. You made assumptions and you stopped talking to me.”
“It wasn’t like I pulled something out of a hat. I had good reason to think what I did.”
“Meredith.” He rubs his forehead, and it’s obvious he’s trying to calm his tone. “Why didn’t you just ask me?”
My chest rises and falls with heavy breaths. Guilt slinks into the memory of the day I saw him holding Olivia. I should have. I should have found the courage to ask him.
“I—” Tears hit the backs of my eyes. “I was afraid it was true. I was afraid that my feelings for you were one-sided and that the embrace with Olivia meant something else. So if I didn’t talk to you, I didn’t have to hear you say it first. I could just go on with my life.”
His tone shifts to compassion with a slightly drawn-out “Sweetheart.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t trust you,” I say with a watery smile. “And I’m sorry I ghosted you.”
He cups my face and runs his thumb across my cheek. When he pulls back, he raises a finger as if to tell me to pause, takes his cell out of his back pocket, and presses a few commands on the screen.
The iconic sound of ABBA fills my car, and the background singers ask me to take a chance on them. Without breaking eye contact, I slide my phone out of my coat pocket and answer. “Hello?”
“I miss you. I just wanted to hear your voice. I’ve booked my ticket for Thanksgiving and can’t wait to see you.” Harlan gifts me with a full smile and shining eyes. He holds his finger up again. “Don’t move.”
Opening his car door, he shoves the phone back into his pocket. Through the rearview mirror, I watch him stalk around the back of the vehicle, and my belly does giddy flip-flops. He raps on my window three times.
I smile like an idiot as I open the door.
The smooth mover leans across me, presses my seat belt release button, and orders gently, “Hop on out, sweetheart.”
The next thing I know, Harlan slides his arms around my waist and pulls me into a tight embrace. A low groan fills my ear, and something in me stirs.
I stand on my tiptoes and wrap my arms around his shoulders.
“I’ve been dying to do this all day,” he says in a thick voice.
I am putty at those words, molding myself to his frame. His hand at my lower back pushes me closer, while the fingertips of his other hand graze up and down my spine as he kisses me, gentle at first, then with more intent. It’s PDA at its best, and I’m here for it.
Before I figure out how we can remain like this forever, making out in the Walmart parking lot, he pulls back and rests his forehead on mine.
“Well.” A smile tugs at my mouth. “I thought you were letting me go because of the eternal ‘stop the snoring ladies’ message I left on your voicemail.”
“Are you kidding?” His thumb rubs across my waist. “I’ve listened to that message a thousand times. It’s going in the permanent collection.”
I chuckle and move in to brush my lips against his one more time.
When he pulls back, he pats me on the hip. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get your booty home.”