11. Harper
HARPER
Somewhere between fake dates, charity events, late-night takeout, and waking up in his bed wearing one of his shirts after he convinced me sleepovers didn't technically count if I fell asleep accidentally, he'd become part of my life.
A temporary part, an expiration-date part, a thirty-day part, I reminded myself of that regularly.
Usually, right before I did something stupid, like missing him. Which was exactly what I was doing Thursday afternoon when he cancelled dinner. His text had been short.
Elliot:
Can't tonight. Something came up.
There wasn’t any teasing or unnecessary commentary, just that.
I stared at it longer than was reasonable.
Then I told myself I was being ridiculous.
He was a busy man; something probably came up.
I tried to push it aside, but ended up staring at it some more.
Because something felt off. By six o'clock, I was home, showered, barefoot in my townhouse, wearing jeans and a cropped t-shirt, and trying very hard to enjoy the unexpected evening at home.
I had wine, a fuzzy blanket, and a terrible reality show.
I should have been thrilled. Instead, I kept checking my phone.
Which was pathetic. I hated that for me.
Finally, I gave in and called Julian.
"Should I be concerned?" he asked immediately.
"Wow! Hello to you, too."
A pause, then, "What's wrong?"
I frowned, "Nothing's wrong."
Another pause, then, “Why are you calling me then?”
OKAY!
"I was just wondering if anything happened today."
"With whom?"
"Elliot."
The line went silent.
"Julian."
"Harper."
I sat up straighter.
"What happened?"
"Is there something critical you need tonight for work?" He asked, redirecting the conversation.
“No, I…”
"I'll talk to you later."
"Julian."
But he'd already hung up. I stared at my phone. Because, what the fuck, Julian, and here Elliot was trying to convince me that man wasn’t an absolute asshole.
Then I called Caleb, because if there was one thing I had learned over the past few weeks: it was that Caleb was physically incapable of lying convincingly, or he just didn’t care to.
He answered on the second ring. "Everything okay?"
"Why is everyone asking me that tonight?"
Another pause. “Why would you call me if something…”
"You people are terrible at phone etiquette."
A soft sigh came through the line. "Harper..."
"What happened?"
He said nothing, and I thought maybe he would hang up on me, too, but then he sighed again and said, "It's his birthday."
I blinked. "What?"
"It's Elliot's birthday."
That wasn't what I expected at all. I sat there for a second. Then another. Caleb made the ‘I am going to hang up now’ noise, and I choked out, "Wait."
Caleb was quiet, but he stayed on the line.
"You're telling me Elliot Vale doesn't celebrate his birthday?"
"No."
I frowned. "That's absurd," I huffed before continuing, "I thought he'd treat it like a national holiday."
Caleb made a sound that was suspiciously close to a growl and said, "Maybe you don't know him as well as you think."
The words hurt more than they should have, because maybe he was right, maybe I didn't. Maybe there were still pieces of Elliot I hadn't seen. Pieces hidden beneath the charm, confidence, and carefully practiced smiles.
"Caleb."
A sigh. "He'll be home, Harper."
The line went dead. And before I could think too hard about what I was doing, I was already grabbing my keys.
Twenty minutes later, I was standing in a bakery. Thirty minutes after that, I was balancing takeout containers and a small chocolate cake in my arms, standing in Elliot's private elevator, wondering if I'd completely lost my mind.
Probably.
He had given me the code to use after my first sleepover, and I had refused to use it… until now.
The elevator opened directly into the penthouse. The lights were low; the city glittered beyond the massive windows, and Elliot stood in front of them, holding a rocks glass.
Alone.
I suddenly felt as if I'd walked into something I wasn't supposed to see.
He didn't turn around or react to my entrance, and I knew he had heard the elevator; he probably got a security notification when I showed up.
I swallowed my nerves and was halfway to the island before his voice broke the silence.
"Who told you?"
I set the bags down carefully. "You were being weird."
He didn’t turn or say anything, so I continued, adding, "Then Julian was being weird."
When he still didn’t react, I confessed, "Caleb told me."
A long, awkward silence fell between us, so I swallowed hard and started to say, "Happy..."
"Don't." The single word came out rough.
I looked up, and something inside me cracked a little. Because suddenly, he didn't look like the Elliot he presented to the world. Not the polished version or the charming one. Not the man who could walk into any room and own it. He looked tired and lonely and heartbreakingly young, somehow.
"I got dinner," I said softly.
His gaze dropped to the bags, then the cake, and back to me. “You got me a cake?”
My chest squeezed painfully because his voice sounded wounded but somehow hopeful.
I shrugged, feeling suddenly awkward. "Yeah."
His eyes stayed locked on mine. The way he was looking at me made me want to squirm. So I blurted out, "I would've baked one if I'd known."
The silence that followed felt enormous. Something moved across his face; it was so raw that it stole my breath.
"You would've baked for me." His voice cracked at the end. It wasn't a question, more like disbelief, as though the concept itself made little sense.
I set everything down carefully on the island, took off my jacket and tossed it on the stool, then crossed the distance between us before I could talk myself out of it.
Because suddenly none of this felt complicated, and Elliot looked like someone who hadn't been loved in a very long time. Maybe ever…
So I wrapped my arms around him, and for one terrifying second, he didn't move. Then his free arm came around my waist and held on tight. His forehead dropped against my hair, and he whispered something. I couldn't make it out. But I felt it. Whatever it was. I felt it deep within me.
My heart was doing its very best to run away on me, but I knew he needed this. Elliot set his drink down, then his hands slid up to cup my face. I opened my mouth to stop what I knew was coming, to reinforce the rules… But then I looked at him and forgot every word.
His eyes were impossibly blue and vulnerable in a way I'd never seen before. My heart broke and healed itself simultaneously. I quieted the voice in my head and rose onto my toes, softly brushing my lips against his.
And whispered, "Happy birthday."
I didn't get any further because Elliot kissed me, and it wasn’t one of his practised kisses for the cameras.
This felt different; it was real and terrifying.
The kiss was making promises neither of us was ready to say out loud, and made me forget every rule I'd ever made, and felt like a beginning instead of an arrangement.
Elliot growled into my mouth, and I jumped up and wrapped my legs around him as he moved his hands to cup my ass.
He moved us without a word down the hallway, our eyes locked on one another.
My breathing was heavy, and my pulse was frantic.
We had had sex before, several times, but this somehow felt like uncharted territory.
Without a word, we both stripped quickly, and then we were on each other again.
Elliot pulled me back up against him, my legs wrapped tightly around him.
His rock-hard cock nestled between our bodies.
I heard a drawer open, and then Elliot was maneuvering us onto his bed, his back to his headboard, as I straddled him.
I lifted my hips without direction so Elliot could put on the condom, and then as soon as his hands were back on my hips, I slid down his length.
Our breaths mingled as I moved up and down. We didn’t speak; he didn't offer his usual dirty talk. We alternated between kissing and watching each other.
It was like nothing I had experienced with him before, nothing I had experienced with anyone ever, if I was being honest. The surge of emotion within me was so intense that I had to force back the tears. This… this wasn’t sex, this was…
Much later, I sat on the kitchen island as Elliot stood between my legs, eating takeout directly from the containers. He wore only his boxer briefs, and I'd stolen one of his dress shirts.
The cake sat beside us, half-destroyed. Which felt like a successful birthday.
"You know," I said around a bite of chocolate cake, "for someone who doesn't celebrate birthdays, you seem pretty good at this."
Elliot looked down at the fork in his hand, then at me and smiled. My heart did that stupid flutter thing, and I realized this smile was becoming my favourite of his.
"Thank you. I don’t know if you will ever realize what this means to me."
The look he was giving me made my stomach drop, and suddenly I wasn't thinking about thirty days anymore. That should have been my first warning. I just didn't know it yet.
When he eventually scooped me up and carried me toward his bedroom, I didn't argue or mention the rules.
I didn't remind either of us what this was supposed to be.
I simply wrapped my arms around his neck, rested my head against his shoulder, and for the first time since this arrangement started, being in Elliot's arms felt less like pretending and far too much like home.