12. Elliot
ELLIOT
It was the beginning of the end… okay, dramatic…. I know.
It was the start of our last week in this arrangement, and I had a problem, several actually.
The first was Harper, the second was that I no longer wanted this to end, and the third was that I couldn't seem to think about either of those things without feeling completely unhinged.
Which was ridiculous because it was ending.
The arrangement was ending, and I had not fucked Harper out of my system; if anything, she had somehow crawled under my skin and… stayed.
The end date was marked on my calendar, and the new contract sat on my desk.
Yet somehow, every time I looked at either of them, I found myself changing things.
Not because the terms needed changing, but because I wasn't ready for this to be over and I wanted the next contract to encompass what we were now.
The realization should have alarmed me. Instead, I found myself printing a revised agreement on Tuesday afternoon.
I took inspiration from Julian and Lucy, but added my flair.
A one-year public engagement, with an option to renew.
Every clause was carefully written; every contingency was covered.
Everything was meticulously addressed, except for the one thing that actually mattered. Harper.
I stared at the pages spread across my desk, secretly hoping that this would be enough for her to stay, then immediately hated myself for how ridiculous that sounded.
It wasn't as if she was disappearing; she was here with me.
She showed up even when I tried to push her away, and I was literally creating a plan designed to keep her around.
I made deals and dealt with people as the CEO daily, and I never got nervous about a deal.
The problem was that Harper wasn't a merger or an acquisition, and somewhere along the way I'd started wanting things that couldn't be written into a contract.
Which felt suspiciously like a terrible life choice, considering my experience with emotional relationships.
"You're smiling at paper."
I looked up and Caleb stood in my office doorway, holding a coffee. I groaned, and he laughed.
“That got anything to do with a beautiful blonde woman?” He asked, pointing to my desk.
"Absolutely not."
I flipped the contract face down, and Caleb's eyes narrowed.
"That bad?" he asked with a chuckle.
"That obvious?" I countered.
"Painfully so, my old friend."
Fantastic, I hated having observant friends.
Caleb walked in and dropped into the chair across from my desk.
"Have you told her about whatever it is you are working up?"
"No," I huffed.
"Why?"
I stared at him, feeling overwhelmed and that irrational, unhinged feeling creeping up. "Do you ever tire of asking questions you already know the answers to?"
"Not really." He said with a shrug.
I leaned back in my chair and, because apparently I enjoyed suffering, I said, "What if she says no..." The words died before I finished them.
Caleb studied me, and I wished he would have laughed or done anything else. But unfortunately, he looked sympathetic.
"You didn’t hear her when she called, worried about you on your birthday. I think you're underestimating her."
That wasn't the problem, the problem was that I wasn't sure I really knew her, so many unanswered questions floated around us and even though she had let me in, even though she had crossed every boundary she set…
she was still closed off, still hiding something and somehow that bothered me more every day.
The strangest part was how normal everything had become, domestic even.
What started with PR dinners and events turned into texts and late-night conversations.
Then somehow we became that couple who ate off each other's plates, ordered different things so we could both try something new, without ever making that decision out loud.
Then I found more and more of her things at my place, like the stack of books on my coffee table.
And then one day I discovered my apartment felt empty when she wasn't in it.
I didn't know when it happened; I just knew that somewhere between the first day of our arrangement and now, Harper Lane had become my favorite part of the day.
Another problem was that as I was scrambling to figure out a way to keep her, the closer we got to the end of our arrangement, Harper’s walls were building back up around her, and I hated it.
Thursday arrived faster than I expected. Harper stood near the elevator in one of those fitted coats she wore that probably cost more than most people's cars.
She was leaving for the weekend for a personal commitment. A mysterious personal commitment. One she refused to explain. Which absolutely did not bother me, not even slightly.
"You're staring at me, Elliot."
I blinked, and Harper smirked.
"I was thinking." I said, and even to me my voice sounded low and cautious.
She stepped closer and adjusted my tie. Another habit she'd somehow developed. Another problem, but then something flickered in her ice-blue eyes, like she was reminding herself of something, she shook her head, just slightly, like she didn’t even realize she was doing and made to pull her hand away when I covered it with mine, keeping her there.
I looked down at her, taking her in, hating that this was how our arrangement ended.
How has it been a month already?
"When do you get back?" I asked, feeling foolishly nervous.
She took a deep breath and replied, "Late Saturday. Or very early Sunday, depending on how you look at it."
Something tightened unexpectedly in my chest, so I obviously ignored it.
"I would offer to pick you up…."
Harper cut me off with, “That isn’t necessary.”
But I continued anyway, adding, “But the Northwell Holiday event is Saturday and it usually goes late.”
"I know." She said, and then stepped back.
I immediately missed her closeness, her hands on me, so I blurted out, "Meet me after."
Her brows lifted in question, "After?"
"When you get back, don’t go home… come here."
She studied me carefully, the way she always did when she suspected I was hiding something.
Harper sighed out my name, "Elliot."
I exhaled slowly, needing to get this out before she left. "There are some things I want to talk to you about."
Harper took a step back, her ice-blue eyes locked on mine, because suddenly she was paying attention. "About what?" She asked, her voice soft and cautious.
I held her gaze, stepping closer, I replied, "Us."
The silence stretched, but neither of us looked away. The air between us shifted, and it felt electric.
"The arrangement will be over."
The words hurt more than they should have because they were true.
I took a step closer, my hand reaching out and tucking a rare stray hair behind her ear.
"Maybe." I murmured.
Her eyes searched mine as she asked, "What does that mean?"
I thought about the contract sitting in a drawer in my desk in my home office, the one-year extension, the engagement, the plan I had been cooking since week one…
But then I thought about the way she'd looked on my birthday, the way she'd kissed me.
How she'd brought me a cake. She showed up and stayed when no one else ever had.
No one but my brothers from Blackridge Academy.
And suddenly none of it felt right, not the contract or the paperwork, and definitely not the terms. I realized, staring into her eyes, that I wanted something else; I just wasn't entirely sure what it was.
When I said nothing, Harper blew out a breath I am sure she had been holding and reached for her things, saying, “I have to go Elliot, But if this is about another arrangement we can talk about it when I get back.” Her voice was back to the professional, cool tone she used when she was keeping a professional boundary.
I felt her shutting me out, and I didn’t know what to do, so I pushed myself and asked, "What if it wasn't another arrangement?"
For the first time in weeks, Harper looked genuinely surprised.
The elevator arrived behind her, but neither of us moved.
"What if it were something different?" I continued.
Her pulse fluttered visibly in her throat, and I thought I might be sick with how vulnerable I was being, but then she smiled. It was small and soft, but it gave me hope. It was a smile that would haunt me later.
She said nothing; I closed the distance between us and tipped my head down to kiss her goodbye, but she turned her face so my lips grazed her jaw, a move she had perfected in the first two weeks of our arrangement and I fucking hated that we were back here again.
She stepped back out of my reach, her eyes searching mine as if she were trying to find the truth in what I was saying, what I wanted.
I should have told her right then and there, eased the worry, the strain lines around her eyes and brow. But I said, “Send me your flight details so I know when to expect you.”
She was still studying me, and I felt like I was standing on a ledge all alone, so I added, “I’ll even keep your code active even though the 30 days expire at midnight.”
Harper’s facial reaction told me exactly how she felt about that comment; the last bit of the walls was up instead of coming down.
She cleared her throat and looked away from me, as if studying her bags was the most interesting thing in this space. “Maybe we can schedule a time during the week to meet.”
I panicked, feeling like if she didn’t come right back to me she wouldn't come back at all. I wasn’t used to feeling this way. It brought me back to a time when I was a little boy who only wanted his parents to show up, acknowledge his existence, and love him.
“No,” I said more forcefully than necessary.
Harper stepped back and raised an eyebrow at me in question. So I tried one more time, “Please Harper, I really want to talk to you when you get back. Or you could just skip whatever is so important in New York and stay with me.” Please choose me…