Chapter 25 Gwen
GWEN
Harrison took the housekey from my hand and moved in front of me to open my apartment door.
“Okay, come on now. I’m not incapacitated,” I said in as light a tone as I could manage, considering.
Considering I barely recognized the withdrawn man who’d driven me home from the hospital, stopping to pick up pizza, fried chicken, and tacos on the way despite me telling him I wasn’t really hungry. He looked like Harrison Ashford, but he was acting like a fucking pod person.
I’d tried to keep the mood light on the way back, but every joke I made about what I’d just been through landed with a thud, making me feel stupid for even trying. And awkward. It was like I was on a first date with a stranger, trying to draw him out of his shell and failing at every attempt.
I was the one who’d just been in an accident, so why did it feel like I was pushing a boulder uphill every time I tried to get a little tenderness and affection from him?
“Nice place,” Harrison mused as he walked in ahead of me and placed the billions of bags of food on my tiny kitchen counter.
“Liar. But you can’t beat the location.” I paused. “Okay, maybe you could, but the average human like me is happy to live in a shithole in order to be so close to the beach.”
He glanced around my kitchen.
“Why do you have a bungee cord on your refrigerator door?”
“It’s called improvising,” I teased. “You should be impressed with my resourcefulness.”
“It’s definitely something,” he said and began unpacking bags. “Go sit down on the couch, I’ll bring food to you. You need to rest.”
“Harrison, come on. You’re treating me like—”
“Sit,” he ordered.
“Okay, okay,” I put my hands up in surrender as I walked over to my couch.
Harrison opened various cabinets and drawers, and I choked back a giggle when a handle came off in his hand. He turned to me and held it up wearing a pissy expression.
“What can I say? I’m a classy broad,” I joked.
“You really need to call someone about the state of this kitchen,” Harrison said as he resumed his search.
“When you figure out who might actually be interested in getting that call, please let me know, because my landlord never answers. Plates are to the left of the stove,” I coached.
He grabbed two, heaped food on them, then started searching for forks. I was about to warn him about the temperamental utensils drawer when I heard the whole thing spring free from the counter and spill on the floor with a crash.
“Damn it,” he shouted.
I got off the couch and headed toward him. “It’s okay, it happens all the time.”
“Gwen, I’ve got it,” Harrison said as he kneeled to pick up the mess. “Go back to the couch. Is your dishwasher empty? Because now all of this needs to be cleaned.”
“My dishwasher is broken and currently contains winter coats for when I travel to the East Coast. I have a better idea: Why don’t you throw it all in the sink and come eat with me on the couch?
We’ll stick to finger food, no forks necessary.
C’mon, get over here and snuggle with me. I could use some TLC.”
I eyed him as he swept up handfuls of plastic and metal utensils.
“Harrison…”
“You need to eat more than finger food,” he insisted, still focused on cleaning up. “You said your last meal was breakfast, and it’s close to five now. You’re still dealing with the accident aftermath, and you need to keep your strength up.”
“Fine,” I sighed. “I’ll take two tacos and some guac, please.”
It felt like he wanted to stay busy doing all the things that didn’t involve physical contact, when what I really needed was a never-ending hug, a kiss on top of my head, and the promise that everything was going to be okay. Why was that so hard for him to provide?
I settled back on the couch, and Harrison followed a few minutes later with plates piled high, like I was a college athlete focused on carb loading before a meet.
“Whoa, are you trying to fatten me up?” I joked as I took the plate from him.
“Sure, you could use a few extra pounds,” he replied in a monotone without looking at me.
I scooted over to make room for him, but he opted for the chair opposite me instead. It was a subtle rejection, but it was enough that I couldn’t ignore the way he was acting any longer.
“What’s going on?” I asked, trying to hide the hurt I felt. “Why are you being so weird?”
His expression turned wounded for a moment, then he gestured to the plate in my lap. “I’m helping. What’s the problem?”
Defensive, but not confused. So I wasn’t imagining it, and it wasn’t unconscious on his part. He really was avoiding me.
“The problem is you’re acting like I’m contagious,” I snapped back at him.
“Ever since you walked into my room at the hospital, it feels like you’re…
I don’t know how to explain it other than to say that you’re acting weird as hell.
I need you, Harrison. Not food, not rest. I went through something pretty traumatic today, and instead of comforting me, you’re doing everything you can to stay away from me. ”
“Stop. You’re being silly,” he scoffed.
Calling me “silly” landed about as well as if he’d told me to calm down.
“No, I’m not. I’m asking for someone I care about to comfort me after a huge scare,” I countered, with a little more venom in my voice.
“Well, maybe I’m not good at comfort,” he snapped back at me.
His tone and furrowed brow felt like a slap across my face. What the hell was going on?
“Why would you say that?” I asked, even though I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear the answer. “What do you mean?”
“Because it’s not my thing.” Harrison suddenly became very focused on rearranging the slices of pizza on his plate. “Never has been.”
I wasn’t about to let whatever static was buzzing between us turn into an electrical storm. There was still a chance we could turn this around. Maybe he was just stressed out about work, and now worried about me on top of it?
“Well, I bet I can teach you.” I began, trying to shift to a softer tone.
“The first step is planting your sweet ass right next to me on the couch. Then you have to set that plate down on the coffee table so you can wrap your arms around me. A few kisses would help too. And you can say some stuff about how happy you are that I’m okay, and that you’ll always be there for me. ”
The last bit came out too quickly for me to censor myself. It was part wishful thinking, part test. We’d never defined our relationship, so it was bold for me to suggest that “always” was an option for us. But I couldn’t deny it was what I wanted to hear.
I held my breath, waiting to see what he’d do.
“When does your sister get back?”
“What does that have to do with anything?” I asked. My stomach started fizzing uncomfortably because it was not the kind of response I’d hoped for.
“Well, she’s your sister and your roommate, which means she knows you better than anyone. She’s probably the right person to turn to for…hugs, and all of that.”
He was still pushing his food around instead of eating it. The pizza oil was starting to congeal to an unappetizing orange-y sludge.
Was this really happening? Was the man I was dating really trying to pawn off my need for TLC on my sister? If I didn’t have an appetite before, it was now long gone. In fact, the smell of the food in front of me was starting to make me ill.
“Why are you doing this?” I whispered. Fear buzzed through my body. Harrison was bricking up a wall between us as I watched, helpless.
He tossed his plate on the coffee table and got up to pace around my apartment. “Why are you pushing me for something I’m incapable of giving?”
His word choice was a record scratch. Incapable?
“Harrison, no, that’s not true.” I started to get up to follow him, but he whipped around and narrowed his eyes at me, so I dropped back down on the couch. I knew it was because he wanted me to take it easy, but in this moment, the way he wouldn’t let me anywhere near him felt more ominous.
I pressed on. “The way you treated me at your dad’s party?
That was care and concern. You looked out for me the whole time.
I know it’s possible for you, but for some reason you’re acting like you have no desire to take care of me now.
Am I being too needy? Because I don’t think the bare minimum is asking too much. ”
Harrison stopped pacing and let his head drop back as he released a frustrated huff.
“I don’t know how much more you want from me, Gwen. I picked you up from the hospital, I took you to get your prescription, I got you food, and I’m here now. Why isn’t that enough? Please fill me in, because it sure feels like I’m doing my part.”
I couldn’t hold back any longer. How could he be so blind?
“Because it’s totally lacking in emotions!” I screamed at him. “You’re here,” I pointed at the ground, “but you’re not here,” I slammed my palm against my chest, over my heart.
“I appreciate all the to-do list stuff you took care of for me. Thank you, if I haven’t already said it enough. But what I need in this moment, after a scary fucking car accident, is for you to act like you’re happy I’m still alive!”
I realized that I’d chosen my words poorly when I saw the shadow pass over his face. I hadn’t meant to call up memories of losing his mother.
“I’m sorry. That came out wrong.”
We both went silent.
“You’re asking for something I can’t give,” Harrison finally said in a steely voice, staring at the ground. “I’m sorry, but it’s best you find that out now.”
I fell back against the couch at his admission, wrung out. My lungs felt like they’d shrunk, like I couldn’t get a full, deep breath of air. What had started off as a tense conversation now sounded like an express train to the end of us.
“You’re serious,” I whispered.
It wasn’t a question because I already knew the answer. I had stupidly put myself out there only to find out, yet again, that Harrison Ashford didn’t care enough about me to give me what I needed.
Heartfelt concern and genuine care. I knew it wasn’t too much to ask for in a partner. But apparently, it wasn’t something he was ever going to give me.
Sure, he could play the part of caregiver, but it was hollow, like I was nothing more than an item on his to-do list that needed to be checked off.
“Yeah. I am serious,” Harrison finally replied. “I’m sorry, Gwen.”
Tears filled my eyes, but I refused to let them fall, sniffling and blinking them back. How could I have been so blind?
I should’ve known better. He’d shown me who he was back in Aspen.
While his reasons for leaving abruptly made sense once he finally explained them, at the very least he could’ve reached out to let me know why at the time.
He’d playacted our relationship, making himself available to me when things were stable, but now that things were complicated, he was ready to bolt yet again.
I’d opened myself up to him for nothing. An aching sadness ripped through me at how blind I’d been.
“You need to go.”
Harrison looked at me like I’d slapped him. He stood up so abruptly that the chair wobbled behind him.
My heart sank even further as I realized how eager he was to go. Deep down, I’d hoped he’d at least fight for me a little. Maybe apologize for being thick-headed and promise he’d at least try to be a better partner. Not just for me, for us.
“That’s what you want?”
No, I wanted to scream at him. I want you to want to stay. I want you to want me even when it’s messy or hard.
“Based on what you’ve told me, I don’t think there’s any other choice,” I replied evenly.
My hurt was shifting to anger. At myself, at him, at how things were turning out yet again.
“Fine,” Harrison replied. “I’ll go, then.”
He stared at me for a beat longer, and I willed myself to remain expressionless. If he could face the end of our relationship without so much as a frown, so could I.
I stupidly clung to hope as he walked toward the door. There was still a chance, in the ten steps it took to cross the room, that he could figure out how wrong he was.
Nine steps…eight…
“If you leave,” I told him, “it’s over between us.”
Harrison paused, and my heart leapt. He turned to me slowly.
“I know.”
The door clicked shut, and the tears finally won.