Chapter Fourteen
Gale sat on the hallway rug and pressed the back of his head against Harriet’s bathroom door, inhaling deeply while fiddling
with the rug’s wool tassels. The mingled scents of almond and vanilla wafted through the air. He’d spent nearly twenty minutes
at the store searching for the perfect combination of fragrant foams and fizzing bath bombs.
A gentle splash of water reached his ears, followed by a low sigh that seemed to reverberate through his bones. Harriet was
just feet away, soaking in steamy water. Her soft, bare skin lay hidden beneath a mound of shimmering bubbles. He swallowed
hard, his throat clicking audibly, and squeezed his eyes closed. “So, birthday girl,” he called out, hoping his voice didn’t
betray the chaotic energy thrumming through him. “How’d you say that thirty is treating you so far?”
Her laugh echoed off the tiles. “Well, considering I’m lounging in a bubble bath fit for a princess, I’d say pretty damn good,
thanks to you.”
His skin hummed with a warmth he couldn’t explain, like sunlight breaking through clouds.
A smile took over his whole face before his brain could catch up.
“Anytime.” There was something about making Harriet happy that did things to him he couldn’t quite figure out—like his heart had suddenly grown three sizes and he didn’t know what to do with all that extra space.
Simple as he was, he knew this much: seeing her smile made everything make sense, even if he couldn’t explain why.
He wasn’t a monk, or a prude. He’d definitely been around the dating scene. The relationship merry-go-round? He’d taken spins.
And the lust roller coaster? Yep, ridden that plenty of times. His love life had its ups and downs, for sure. Some thrills,
some spills, and a whole lot of learning experiences. But Harriet? She was shaping up to be a whole fucking theme park.
There was another splash, and her next soft contemplative sigh hit him straight in the dick.
“You know,” Harriet mused, her voice drifting through the door like steam, oblivious to the effect she had on him. “I thought
turning thirty would feel more . . . I don’t know, weighty?” She paused, and Gale could almost picture her shrugging in the
tub. “It sounds dumb to say out loud, but I guess I’d always sort of expected I’d eventually get some sort of manual downloaded
into my brain. Like . . . ‘Congrats! You’ve unlocked the Secrets of Adult Wisdom.’”
Gale snorted. “And? I’m guessing no user guide popped up when you woke up this morning?”
“Nada.” Harriet sighed dramatically. “Still waiting for that ‘aha’ moment when I magically figure out work-life balance, meal
prep, and, I don’t know, maybe how to fold a fitted sheet.” She was quiet for a moment. “But you know what? Maybe it’s okay
to be imperfect or unfinished or whatever.”
“If you ask me, you’re doing pretty damn good across the board.”
“I guess. Thanks for the pep talk.” There was a pause, then another splash—quieter.
When she spoke again, her voice was softer, tinged with something he couldn’t quite place.
“Though I have to admit, sometimes I see friends settling down, or even starting families like Brooke . . . and it gives me FOMO. Which is dumb, I know, because we’re all on our own journey. Still—”
“You’ve done so much more than so many people.”
“I hate that my big serious relationship was Zach.” Harriet sighed, and he could almost picture her running a hand through
her damp hair. “I mean, I spent so much of my twenties wrapped up in him. It was like we rode a stupid seesaw, taking turns
going up and down. And the worst part was that I wasn’t even really into him by the end. But for some reason that fact made
me feel like an even bigger loser. I think I just didn’t have the courage to admit that I’d made a giant mistake. Sometimes
I guess it takes the most guts to admit defeat.”
Gale’s jaw clenched at the pain in her voice. “I gotta say, I never liked him.”
“I know. Evidence you are wiser than me,” Harriet continued, her voice a mix of regret and self-deprecation.
“Remember Brooke’s birthday party last year?” Gale’s mind flashed back to that night. Harriet in a summer dress, her hair
down for once, loose and wavy around her shoulders.
“Oh God. I wish I could delete it from my brain.” Harriet groaned. “The night that he went on about ‘optimizing’ our relationship
in front of everyone.”
Gale’s temple twitched. “Talking about your life together like it was some kind of a portfolio.”
“You know, at the time, I thought he was just making another one of his bad jokes,” Harriet said, her voice tinged with doubt.
“Now, I’m honestly not so sure.”
“It was weird,” Gale said.
Harriet continued, “He would sometimes use phrases like ‘maximizing couple efficiency’ and ‘streamlining our emotional processes.’
I laughed it off, but looking back . . .”
“I remember you trying to play along,” Gale added. “But he just kept shoveling shit. The worst part was when he started talking about scheduling your quality time together. Date nights, talks, even . . . intimate time. In front of everyone. It was like watching a train wreck in slow motion.”
“I should have taken it more seriously,” Harriet said. “I remember you told me straight that Zach gave you a bad vibe. That
I deserved better.”
Gale swallowed hard. He remembered that moment vividly—the way Harriet’s smile had faltered, how she’d looked at him with
a mix of surprise and something else he couldn’t quite name. In that moment, he’d felt an overwhelming urge to throw the guy
out into the front yard, a surge of protectiveness coursing through him.
“I wish I’d listened to you then,” Harriet admitted softly. “Instead of doubling down because I was stubborn.”
Gale’s chest tightened. She deserved the world.
“But hey,” Harriet continued, her tone brightening with forced cheer, “no point dwelling on the past, huh? I’ve got an amazing
job, friends who’d draw me a ridiculous bubble bath . . . Life is good.”
“You’re unstoppable,” Gale blurted. There was a pause, heavy with unspoken tension.
Her voice, when it came again, was soft but determined.
“You know what? I think my thirties are going to be about trying to taking chances. No more wasting time on the wrong people.
No more letting fear hold me back.”
His heart raced. Was she thinking what he was thinking? He took a deep breath, gathering his courage. “Any . . . specific
chances in mind?”
There was a long pause, filled only by the gentle lapping of water. When Harriet finally spoke, her voice was barely above
a whisper, but it sent shock waves through him.
“Maybe. There’s this one thing I’ve been thinking about for a while now . . .”
Gale’s breath caught as he heard the distinctive splash of Harriet rising from the bath. Water cascaded, punctuated by the
soft pat of her feet on tile. His imagination ran wild, picturing droplets trailing down her skin. He shifted, suddenly all
too aware of the thin barrier between them.
A soft thud resonated through the door. Gale’s heart raced as he realized Harriet was now leaning against the other side,
mirroring his position. So close, yet impossibly far.
“Gale?” Harriet’s voice was low, almost hesitant. “Can I tell you something?”
He swallowed hard. “Anything.”
A deep sigh filtered through the wood. “It’s about Zach. Well, not just Zach, but . . .”
His jaw clenched every time she mentioned her ex. But he fought to keep his voice neutral. “What about him?”
“He . . . he said some things. About me. About us.” Harriet’s words came haltingly, as if each one cost her. “Like, in the
bedroom, I mean.”
His fists clenched involuntarily. Of course that asshole had to leave one last parting shot. “Whatever he said, it’s bullshit.”
A laugh scraped out of her throat, hollow and a little raw. “Maybe. But the thing is . . . I can count my relationships on
one hand. And apparently that’s proof enough I’m doing something wrong. He said we weren’t compatible because I would get
too bossy.” A pause. “You know what that really means? It means I had opinions. That I knew what I wanted. And god forbid
a woman take up that much space.” She pressed her lips together, fighting the familiar sting behind her eyes. “The worst part
is, for a split second, I actually believed him.”
Gale’s mind reeled. Was Harriet really confiding in him about this? His body thrummed with a potent mix of protectiveness and desire. He wanted to burst through the door, to show her just how wrong Zach was. But he couldn’t.
Could he?
“Listen to me,” he said, his voice rougher than he intended. “Zach was an idiot. You’re . . . god, you’re Harriet Smythe,
and that means you are fucking amazing. In every way.”
The silence that followed was electric. He could hear Harriet’s breathing, slightly faster than normal. Or was that just his
own pulse pounding in his ears?
“You really think so?” Her voice was barely above a whisper.
“I know so,” Gale replied, matching her tone. The air between them felt charged, even through the door, heavy with possibility.
Harriet’s next words came out in a rush, as if she’d been holding them back. “This is TMI but it’s just . . . I know what
I want. In the bedroom, I mean. But Zach, he . . . he couldn’t handle it. Said I was too demanding, too controlling. That
I emasculated him.”
His breath hitched. He was going to black out. Images flashed through his mind—Harriet, confident and commanding, taking charge.
His body responded instantly to the thought. If his dick got any harder he was going to burst through his jeans.
“There’s nothing wrong with knowing what you want,” he managed, his voice husky. “Or with taking control.”
A soft, surprised intake of breath from the other side of the door. “You . . . you think so?”
He closed his eyes, fighting for control. “It’s hot as hell, actually.”
The words hung in the air between them, charged with new meaning. Gale’s heart raced. Had he said too much? Not enough?