CHAPTER 29
Harvey
Claire left for the day.
Gemma’s back from work.
And Henrik’s in my room, gaming with me, half whispering about his annoyance with me. “I don’t understand how you can get pissy at Gemma and then turn around and do the same thing to her.”
“It’s not the same thing… Gemma broke up with me, so I can do whatever I want. Besides, I didn’t fuck Claire, now did I?”
He tilts his head to the side, knowing I’m right. Then we’re silent until he randomly pauses the game and says, “Look, you’re my brother. Of course I have your back. If you want me to stop hanging out with Gemma, I will. I know you know that. But if you’re okay with it, I’d like to keep in touch with her and Gia to hang sometimes. If not…”
“Hen…”
“Yeah?”
“I know you’ve never been in a relationship, but that’s the last thing on my mind right now.”
“Right,” he says, as if he didn’t think of that.
“It’s okay. I won’t ask you to stop hanging out with her. I know you guys are friends. I was just mad you didn’t tell me she cheated.”
“I should’ve. I’m sorry,” he apologizes.
“All good.” He’s my baby brother. The last thing I’m going to do is let Gemma come between us. Suffice to say, she’s already done enough.
“I have to say, though, Harvey, I really think you need space right now. From both women…” I nod, knowing he’s right. “You have to allow yourself to go through the whole mental grieving part of it,” he adds, shaking his head as he sighs. “I’ve been a dick to her.”
“To Claire?”
Henrik nods. “I wanted you and Gem to work out. Mom’s pretty sad too.”
“I know.” I swallow, knowing that my mom was rooting for us to get married. She called me earlier today and couldn’t believe that Gemma cheated. I’d say she was more angry than sad, but whatever floats Henrik’s boat.
It stings—feeling like I disappointed my parents in another way. First the accident, where I wasn’t in a place to help with the family business anymore. Now my relationship failing.
Deep down, it hurts.
Henrik leaves my room eventually, and I finish gaming. Then it dawns on me that Gemma might be gone this week, so I leave my room to go find her.
“Hen’s gone?” I ask her to break the ice.
She nods, clearing her throat. “Yeah.”
Five seconds ago, I was totally fine. Now, her nonchalance is making me angry again. It comes back to the surface almost instantly in her presence.
“So, did you guys divide your tasks? Decide who takes care of me when?” She sighs like she’s sick of my shit, like she’s had enough of having to deal with me, and it angers me even more because it feels as if she can’t wait to get rid of me.
“You’re so scared I’ll put a rope around my neck. You know what, Gemma? You’re not worth it.”
A low blow, but not lower than the blow she delivered with her boss.
She flinches at my words, yet she says nothing.
She has the audacity to blame me for our failed relationship. She takes zero accountability for the fact that she can’t even open up, use her fucking words, and express herself for once.
Jesus.
“I will never ever forgive you for letting another man fuck you.”
Thoughts of Claire and my happy future with her fly out the window of my mind one by one, replaced by furious thoughts about Gemma messing around behind my back.
“So this whole talk about therapy—”
“Oh, that? I thought about therapy, then I realized, what’s the point? They’ll ask me why I wouldn’t touch you, and the answer will always be because I couldn’t get it up with you.”
I take that fucking dagger that she shoved in my back, and I figuratively shove it into her chest. I can see the moment it makes contact—her lips part, her eyes look like sad puppy eyes. It’s obvious I’ve hurt her.
And yet somehow I still don’t feel better.
I feel even worse about myself.
I hate myself.
I hate this fucking life.
Things between us weren’t supposed to end this way, like my mom said. We were supposed to get married and have kids. We were supposed to ride bikes forever.
Gemma seems completely flabbergasted by my comment, but as always, instead of saying what she truly thinks about it, she gets up to leave the room.
“Don’t you dare leave. I’m not done.” I wheel closer to her.
She folds her arms and looks indifferent—completely done with my ass. And I laugh, then sneer, because don’t they say that the opposite of love isn’t hate, it’s indifference?
“Claire would never cheat on me!”
“Then I hope you live happily ever after! At least you can get it up with her, right?”
I was just commenting on my sex life with Gemma, not Claire. She’s not wrong though. From the moment I met Claire, my body woke up.
Gemma looks like she’s about to crumble to the floor, and I can’t stomach it. It snaps me out of my fury right away.
I wheel even closer to her, taking her hand, not even thinking for a split second about my next words. “Maybe I can try. Let me try, Gemma. See if I could.”
Thoughts of Claire are still buried deep in the dark abyss of my mind. I don’t want to fail at my relationship. I have to get my life right again, and maybe this is part of it.
The thing is, deep down, I don’t really want to. I know that Gemma will say no, but at least I’ll have tried everything to the very end.
If she says yes, I don’t know what I’ll even say. Fuck, what am I doing? Suddenly, I imagine if Claire saw me in this moment. I’m literally cheating on her with Gemma right now.
What the hell are you thinking, Harvey?
“I begged you for over two years . But you never wanted to try. This whole time I thought you couldn’t get it up, but after seeing you jack off to porn one evening, I realized you could. You just didn’t want to with me .” She shakes her head and shuts her eyes.
And the fact that she thinks the sexual aspect is her fault is absurd. I felt weak and embarrassed and had too many mishaps to risk it around her anymore.
My pride wouldn’t allow me to.
“Gemma, it’s not as simple as you think it is.”
“I know it isn’t.”
“Don’t you want to at least try?” She shakes her head, and I ask her, “Why not?”
“I can’t.”
I laugh because this is precious. Even though this is the response I wanted, it’s also a slap in the face. “So you’ll cheat on me, but not on him?”
She turns on her heels and heads to her room.
“Answer me!” I’m so sick of being ignored by her.
Fuck.
“It’s too late.” She turns to face me. “Harvey, it’s too late.”
And even though I know we’re broken up and she’s moving out, her words hit me like a train wreck full of oil.
Gemma’s moving out today.
I found out this morning.
And all I feel is the guilt festering inside me since I propositioned her last night. I can’t even imagine hurting Claire like that if she found out, or if she’d make excuses for me and understand my desperation to give it one last try with Gemma.
The rainy weather matches my mood on this fine Tuesday, and I’m glad I told Claire to take the day off because I’m not feeling well, and I don’t want to redirect my irritation at her.
I take the time to prepare a parting gift of sorts for Gemma. I draw every memorized detail of her on a piece of paper, hoping that wherever she’s going next, she’s as happy as she’s been recently. No matter how much it pains me to wish her happiness without me.
Then I wait for most of the commotion outside my room to halt before I wheel out, searching for Gemma.
She’s not far, and I clear my throat before approaching her.
“Don’t go.” It’s killing me that she’s leaving me behind. It’s like I’m enwrapped in a cold, stormy night, and I can’t see where I’m heading or what’s next.
Everything is darkness and loneliness.
And I don’t want to go there. I don’t want to go through that black hole to get to the other side. I’m afraid.
The unknown is daunting sometimes. Growing up, we were always asked what tangible things we feared, as if those are truly the scariest things in life. But no, losing Gemma right now is dosing my veins with multiple shots of fear.
I know it’s for the best and that I must let her go.
Yet.
Yet.
It’s still freaking hard.
I feel as though I’ll never comprehend it. And maybe I don’t need to, because some things in life aren’t meant to be understood. They’re meant to be felt and experienced.
I take her hand, and she looks so small. “I’m sorry about yesterday. I was mad. Fuck, I’m still mad. But…”
“It’s okay.” She swallows, looking at me with big green eyes. “We’ll be okay, Harvey.” For a second, I almost believe her.
I hand her a folded piece of paper. “For later.”
She nods and tells me, “Day by day, Harvey. That’s how we get through this.”
I don’t have the guts to tell her I might not have the mental strength. I’m not even sure it’s about our love either. It’s the routine we’ve formed over the years. Some habits are hard to break. Hard to shed and walk away from.
“Don’t forget about me.”
“Never,” she whispers, and I can tell that my words affect her.
Luckily, the sad moment is broken up when Henrik comes in. “Alright, Harv, Harv, I booked some hookers for later. Time to get this party started.” Hen looks at both Gemma and me with a goofy smile on his face.
Gemma shakes her head, then I notice Claire walk in behind Henrik.
She faces Gemma first and tells her, “Sorry, I didn’t know—” As if she has anything to apologize for. Gemma doesn’t know that I told her to take the day off. Maybe Gemma thought she had an appointment.
Her job is literally to be here.
This time, Gemma doesn’t ask Claire a million questions about my progress or how to take care of me while she’s gone. She just tells her it’s okay and wishes me goodbye.
And that’s it.
“I’ll be back later.” Henrik gives me an encouraging pat on the back.
I nod, seeing Gemma whisper something to Claire before she walks out and leaves with Gia and Hen. They’re following the movers back to her dad’s place to unpack, and then she’ll move on with her life without me in it.
I expected extreme grief to hit me in this moment.
Instead, I’m staring at Claire, eyes wide as she remains speechless, as if she doesn’t belong here.
“I thought I gave you the day off?” I hope it doesn’t come across as annoyance. Quite the opposite—I’m happy to see her.
“You said you didn’t feel well, so I thought you were sick. I thought I’d make you soup and bread.”
I nod. “Just some soup and bread?” I ask, like it’s no big deal.
Her smile gives me an inner rush. “We don’t even need to talk. Just let me cook, and hopefully you’ll feel a bit better.”
“Claire, I’m not sick.”
“I know. At least physically you’re not. You still need to eat .”
The house is quiet, save for the sound of Claire cutting vegetables while I watch from my wheelchair in the kitchen.
It’s surreal to me that Gemma no longer lives here.
Though it doesn’t feel much different. I mean, she just left, but Gemma hasn’t been present in our relationship for a while now, and even when she was home, most of the time, it felt as if she wasn’t.
“Do you need any help?”
She shakes her head. “No, you relax,” she assures me.
I transfer myself to the dining chair and spend half the time looking out at the backyard, which the spring weather has turned into a mixture of mud and snow.
The other half I spend staring at Claire. She’s wearing light jeans and a white T-shirt with simple gold jewelry. Her beautiful red hair is tied back, and I’m mesmerized as I watch her move around in the kitchen.
And the sight stirs something deep in my chest.