Chapter 35
CHAPTER
THIRTY-FIVE
HARPER
I used your toothbrush at least five times without asking permission, I also used hot water, and then swore I would never confess it, so if we’re doing this, you need to know, I’m a disgusting pig who lies. Also, you snore—but I really like it.
—Ezra, The Perfect non-Ex, Sorry Vex can’t come to the phone now, why? He’s dead.
“ A h, I don’t like that look.” Aaron’s fork froze halfway to his mouth. “That’s the look the vet gives you before putting your best friend down. And in this scenario I mean your dog, but wow—I don’t like it. I don’t like being on this end of it.”
I forced a bigger smile.
He frowned. “Ah, now the kind eyes. Perfect. You know, this is the part where I should say he’s an asshole, he should’ve fought for you, he’s blind, an idiot, and we hate him.
And I won’t let you go. But yelling those things isn’t going to help.
So instead…” He exhaled slowly, shoulders sagging.
“Instead I’ll sit here crestfallen, and when he does break your heart, you’ll remember how I was nice about it.
” He blinked at me. Then smiled, small but genuine.
“You’re going to be fine. You’ve been on a few dates. We’ll always have the dolphins.”
I snorted. “Unforgettable. Dolphins and trauma.”
“And,” he added, brightening, “you’ll always remember me as the guy with the clean pond, free ice cream, and a community blowfish.”
That got me giggling again. “Wow. Tempting.”
“I can be tempting.” His smile faltered, curiosity creeping in. “Wait. What do you mean…years? I thought you only went on a few dates?”
I made a face. My phone was propped up, the little red recording dot practically mocking me. I should edit later. But I’d come here to come clean.
Deep breath.
“Here’s the thing.” My voice wobbled. “There was no perfect guy. Apparently he doesn’t exist. Weird, right?”
Aaron snorted a laugh, grabbed his spoon, and angled it to check his reflection. “And yet—” he fluffed his hair, deadpan “—here he is. Weird.” He set the spoon down. “All kidding aside…what the hell are you talking about?”
I gulped. “I panicked. I wanted to keep my apartment, and I was embarrassed that I didn’t have any good exes. No offense.”
“None taken. I asked you for drugs on date two. Continue.”
I nodded, wincing. “Right. So I was going to hire someone. And then my best friend—Ezra—found out at the same time everyone else did. He stepped in. Pretended to be ‘The One That Got Away.’” I swallowed hard. “Only he wasn’t pretending.”
Aaron bit his lip. Thoughtful. Quiet. Then he said, softly, “the one that got away never left. You just never noticed.”
I crossed my arms. “I noticed. I just told myself I’d rather be alone than lose my best friend.”
He cursed, dragging both hands down his face.
“See, that’s the problem with people. We act like they’re two different roles: best friend or love of your life.
Why the fuck can’t they be the same person?
” His voice cracked, but he forced a smile.
“I hope that kind of love finds me. The kind I thought maybe—maybe—I could’ve had with you. ”
Then he pointed at the camera, sharp. “Ezra, mess this up, and I’m stealing her. I’m not kidding.”
I laughed, even as my eyes burned.
Aaron held out his hand. “Guess the best friend position is shifting around. He’s moving up. Maybe there’s space for me as…backup. Keep me in mind. I throw a mean punch in a bar fight.”
I slid my hand into his. “Might be useful.”
He tugged me into a hug. Warm. Easy. Final. “Good luck, Harper. I’m rooting for you.”
“Good luck to you, Aaron. You’re one of the best exes I’ve ever had.”
He smirked. “Not much competition. But thanks anyway.”
I watched Aaron walk away and prayed my anxiety wouldn’t spike. My notifications were already blowing up—the network guy was practically drooling over the drama. Great. He liked Aaron. Fantastic.
I was scrolling through the usual texts when another notification hit, harder, brighter.
YouTube.
Ezra’s old channel.
Live.
My thumb shook as I clicked, nearly dropping my phone when his face filled the screen.
“So, if you’re just tuning in—hiiiii.” He gave a weak wave. “Confessional time. Let’s start with why I quit.
“Well…it’s kind of a long story. Ish.
“I was questioning a lot about my life. My safety. My trajectory, if you will. Where all the fame was taking me, and what the hell I was doing with all that money. And then I started seeing some…unsavory things in the industry. Hey, every industry has them. But I was burnt out, man.
“The hate comments were just as loud as the love. And the thing about hate? I could read a million good ones and then see one bad one—and it would eat me alive. Made me wonder if any of it was worth it. Online I was either sexy but not smart, or so smart I was stupid. No in-between.
“I was at a convention once, for creators, and something happened. A situation where I didn’t feel safe. Not as a man, not even as a human being. And it screwed me up. Apparently the persona I built online meant I was fair game. Open to all sorts of things. It disgusted me. Made me hate myself.
“I went back to my room that night, depressed as hell, scrolling comments with a bottle of pills sitting next to me. And then…I saw one. Just one. A comment from someone who said she was rooting for me.
“I clicked. Which I rarely did. And I found her weird little channel with five followers—one of them being a cat. I still don’t know how that cat managed it, but later I found out the cat was named Blue. Her grandmother’s.
“But the point is—she was smiling. She was happy. In college, broke as hell, with a camera that barely worked, and she was still radiating light.
“And that comment? It saved me. That smile? Saved me. I was ready to stop fighting that night. She made me fight one more day.
“So Harper…” His voice cracked. He dragged a hand through his hair, eyes shining. “…I may not have been your ex. But I’ve always been your best friend. And you—you’ve only ever been my savior. The one person who saw me. Who encouraged me. Who saved my life.”
I pressed my fist to my mouth, heart pounding so hard it hurt.
Ezra dragged in a shaky breath, eyes boring into the camera like it was me. Like it had only ever been me.
“So no,” he said, voice rough but steady, “I’m not the one that got away. I’m the one that’s staying. If you’ll have me.”
That was it.
The dam broke.
Hot, ugly sobs ripped through me before I could stop them. My phone blurred, his face swimming on the screen through tears I couldn’t blink away.
He wasn’t here. He wasn’t in front of me to joke or deflect or pull me into his chest like he always did. He was out there, live, vulnerable, tearing himself open for the entire world—and for me. Always for me.
And all I could do was sit there, clutching my phone to my chest, and cry.