Chapter 36
Harbor
Four months later . . .
I didn’t know how to fix it . . . to fix us.
For months, Lark sat with the commitment letters from Yale and the four medical schools where she was accepted spread across the island for hours each night. Those nights turned into weeks and months. “Baylor’s a great school,” she says, looking at me over her laptop.
“Baylor is a great school,”
“But I don’t want to be in Texas without you.”
What? I shift on the couch and angle to face her. “Why would you be in Texas without me?”
“Because Yale is in New Haven and Grossman is in New York.”
“I can go to Baylor with you. I’ll go wherever you go.” She’s staring at me. I mean, she does that sometimes, but there’s something more than lust in her eyes this time. There are questions. “What?” I ask, sitting forward.
“What do you mean what, Harbor? How would you go to Baylor? You didn’t even apply.”
“Well,” I start . . . not sure how to break it to her.
It’s a secret I’ve kept hidden for a reason.
Some days I’m still surprised that she hasn’t called me on it.
Makes me wonder if that’s on purpose. She’s a smart woman, but she conveniently avoids talking about my family’s money and my access to it as much as possible.
I’ve overthought this for so long that I’m ready to rip off the bandage and just deal with it head-on.
I know it will upset her. How can it not?
Life’s not fair. I’ve learned that the hard way.
But I’ve never had to worry about finances.
She’s never asked me for a penny or a loan.
But she’s stressed about her future, and it’s time for me to get involved.
“Well?” Her eyes are still on mine, the interest building in her expression when she tilts her head and starts chewing on the inside of her mouth. “How?” she presses again.
I blow out a long breath and then run my hand over my head. “We’re together. We’re together because we love each other—”
“Do I need to be nervous? That opener worries me.”
“You don’t need to be nervous. That’s my point. I’ll go wherever you go because I love you so much. This, you and me, we aren’t temporary, baby. We’re the real thing.”
She sits up on the barstool at the island, and says, “I’d love to say I can go where you go, but that’s just not true.
I need a scholarship to cover my schooling.
I’m confused, Harbor, because what you said is that you’ll go to Baylor with me, but you didn’t apply, so how are you going to school with me when you didn’t even fill out the application? ”
The best high from being accepted turned into the biggest disappointment each time she found out she didn’t get the scholarships for her reach schools. I want this settled once and for good. “I’ll help pay for your medical school.”
She was rubbing her temple, but her hand stills. “What do you mean? You can’t do that.”
“I can do some.” I stand and move to the other side of the island from her. “Baylor offered thirty percent. I can cover, I don’t know, another thirty over four years, and then you’ll get financial aid for the rest. Problem solved.”
Blinking slowly, her tongue dips out to wet her lips, and then she closes her mouth again. “Hm.”
“Hm?”
“I’m processing.” That’s fair. Then she raises her finger in the air. “How does that solve the problem? I would then owe you and the bank money.”
“No.”
“No?” she asks, her brows rising.
“No. I could give you the money.”
“Um, double no.” Shaking her head, she drops her gaze. “Absolutely not. Extra no. Whatever no gets through to you. No.”
“No? Are you sure?”
“You’re not giving me the money, Harbor. I’m not spending years of my life in debt to you. At least not financially. Sexually, even emotionally, I’m all in, running a tab. But you know how I feel about owing people and unpaid debts.”
Remembering how she couldn’t stand when I bought her coffee at TJ’s, I know she hasn’t changed.
She got a job down at Moretti’s to help pay rent.
She can’t just accept a damn gift without feeling guilty.
It’s both sweet and annoying because I have to predict how she’ll react before I buy her anything.
She adds, “I wasn’t raised that way. There’s so much more to it than the next four years, and then there’s the residency.
I’ll be eighty before I can pay you back. ”
“What does it matter if we’re still together?”
“If?” she says, the one word the only one she notes.
If she only knew how I’d give up everything just to be with her.
I’d trade my life for hers if it meant making her dreams come true.
Nothing else matters but us. I say, “When we’re in our eighties together.
” I stare into her watery eyes. “I don’t want you always worried about the next step.
You’ll never owe me money. I’ll give it to you freely. ”
“Like you once said, no good deed goes unpunished, so we need to be ration—”
“No, we don’t. We can be as irrational as we want to be.
If being with you is the punishment, punish away.
” I come around to her and drag the tips of my fingers over her bare thigh.
With her sleep shorts riding high, I reach the bend in her leg, tempted, even while having uncomfortable conversations, to slip sideways between her legs.
She takes my free hand and turns it over. Bending down, she kisses my palm. “I love being irrational with you, babe. We’ve done everything fast, thrown the odds out the window, and followed our hearts. But—”
I pull back and swing my arm away in frustration. “Fuck that. I don’t give a fuck about playing by other people’s rules. I have money. I have trust funds. Three actually and those don’t include my parents’ bank accounts. So no, I’ll be as irrational as I want to be if it means we stay together.”
Her mouth hangs open as her green eyes shine under the kitchen lights. The quicksand of my emotions starts sucking me under, so I back up, staring at her, knowing I just committed sins against her nature.
She laughs, which is a pleasant surprise, and says, “You have more money than sense. You know that, babe? I don’t even know what to say to that.
I can’t wrap my head around blowing off reality to live in la-la land or in some unattainable fantasy world that gives freedom from worries, even for one day, much less for a longer period.
” She slides off the stool and comes to me.
Wrapping her arms around my middle, she leans her head on my chest. Not long enough.
Resting her chin there instead, she looks up at me.
“Tell me what that freedom from worry feels like. I’m being genuine, Harbor.
A part of becoming a doctor was the dream that I could taste that freedom one day. Is it worth it?”
I suddenly feel shitty for spending my days like I don’t have a care in the world. I guess I don’t, comparatively.
I have cares, but they’re all wrapped up in her.
I may not know much about how her world truly rotates, but I do know that time is slipping away from us, burying us under what happens next instead of living in the present.
I’d never say anything, but the day she heard from Yale is the last day I remember feeling how we used to be .
. . normal in our relationship, and it’s all because of fucking money.
Always about money.
My fear, my true, deep-down, buried fear, is that I realize this plays out only one of two ways—she finds the money and we stay together, or she gives up her dream. If the latter happens, I don’t know what will happen to our relationship.
“I will do anything to keep us together.”
She presses herself against me as if she can’t get close enough. I understand the craving. It’s how I feel about her as well. Time is a ticking bomb, tricking us into thinking we’ll find the money for her dream to come true. But I’m starting to worry we won’t.
She whispers, “I can’t take your money.”
I already knew, but hearing her say it strikes a different chord. I kiss her head and hold her tight, knowing we’re headed into the unknown.
Hours later, it’s when she falls asleep in my arms, that I make up my mind. She won’t approve, and she won’t go along with it. I know what I must do.
My dad is still stuck in the conference room, so I wait in his office for my mom to arrive. She comes in, all smiles and arms spread wide for hugs. “It’s good to see you, Harbor.”
“You too, Mom.” Lark and I spend time with our families, together and alone. She’s taught me that no matter what, family is most important. I couldn’t agree more.
My parents pulled me from my own misery.
They told me I mattered. Even when the lies took over the truth, they gave me a chance to come back from the ashes.
They loved me privately despite the sins they thought I’d committed and got me help.
They loved me publicly and came to my defense when everyone else pointed the finger at me.
I don’t want to disappoint them, but I’m worried I’m about to.
“No classes?” my mom asks, sitting in a chair next to mine and putting her bag on the floor.
“I have two hours on Thursdays at lunchtime.”
“Ah.” She starts to take off her coat and drapes it over the back of the chair. “It’s starting to warm, but we’re not quite there.”
“No, we aren’t.”
She looks at me, her eyes seeing the concern in mine. “I hope you’re okay.”
“I am.”
“And Lark?”
“She’s good.”
A soft smile appears. “That’s good.”
The door opens, and my dad comes in, grumbling.
“I spend my days in meetings instead of litigating. I should have saved myself the money and gotten a business degree instead of going to law school.” He stops to kiss my mom and then bring me in for a quick pat on the back.
“How’s everyone?” His eyes travel between the two of us. “Anything I need to be worried about?”
My mom replies, “Harbor called the meeting, so I’m in the dark just like you, Port.” She turns to me. “What’s going on?”