Chapter 29
I’ve been cutting and plating cake for the last twenty minutes. I’ve finished my bourbon, perhaps to help dull my embarrassment or attempt to dull my senses at large so I don’t read too much into Harper no longer at my side. As quickly as she revealed this surprise to celebrate me, she removed herself from it, disappearing and leaving her hat on the table.
I should be happy at the thoughtfulness of tonight, even if it came with embarrassment and included party hats. But standing at the table without her, makes all of it seem surface level.
“Take this.” I hand Finn the knife and push the stack of paper plates over to him.
He looks at me questioningly for a minute before his eyes sweep around the table. The fact he doesn’t ask me anything after doing so makes him a good friend.
I take Harper’s hat and make my way through the crowds, smiling fakely like I’m some politician at a campaign rally who will do and say anything in the moment to win over the people.
But I’m only interested in one in particular. And with Harper, I don’t know what to do or say to win her heart because she’s been avoiding me.
I slip out onto the front patio. It’s chilly, so apart from a few stragglers, the space is relatively empty, which makes it easy to spot Harper at a high-top table to my left.
“Not fair.” I point to my hat, the elastic digging into my chin, and set hers on the table. “If I have to wear one, so do you.”
Harper looks at the cardboard cone I set in front of her, but instead of stick it onto her head, reaches and takes mine off.
I won’t lie, it kind of irks me. But not as much as watching her fold her arms across her chest, her fingertips rubbing the chilled skin peeking out from beneath the sleeves of her t-shirt. I quickly unzip my hoodie, shrugging it off and step behind the stool she sits on, waiting for her to lower her arms.
It takes five seconds, but Harper finally does. She slides into the hoodie and I watch from behind as she snuggles into it, her body relaxing, like she’s receiving a hug from me.
I’m desperate to give her a real one.
Stepping back around, I let my hand linger on her back. “Thank you for the cake.”
I wonder if I’ve taken it too far when she doesn’t respond.
I clear my throat. “I know the hats and plates don’t match, and that the sign was backwards and wouldn’t stay up, but this is the best party you’ve ever thrown. You should believe me. I’ve been to all the others.”
That last one should’ve at least pulled a tiny chuckle from Harper, but nothing. Out of her mouth comes only silence.
And I’ve had it. If this were any other woman, I’d read the signs quite well and not bother questioning them.
But this is Harper .
“What’s going on?” I want to lean in closer, but I don’t. I need Harper to know whatever she says is okay with me. It’s safe with me.
Even if it breaks my heart.
Lifting my head, I look out at the Boulevard flanked by the boardwalk across from us and the dark ocean beyond that. I stand, holding a hand out for her.
“Take a walk with me. ”
Harper stares at my hand, like she’s weighing the pros and cons, uncertainty written across her face. A few seconds tick by, each one making me grow more frustrated. We’re too close now for this kind of awkwardness. I’m too damn old to play hot and cold games.
And yet, here I am like some lovesick kid feeling better when she slips her hand into mine. But the elation doesn’t last long because her grip on me is relatively nonexistent, like she’s okay with me holding on to her, but not trusting herself to hold onto me.
My heart tightens in my chest painfully because it doesn’t work that way. We have to hold onto each other.
We shuffle down Ship-Slapped’s steps, and I lead her across the street and onto the boardwalk to an empty bench near a lamppost. But when I stop, Harper drops my hand, continuing onto the sand. The breeze down here is more aggressive and she shrinks deeper into the hoodie for a minute before tilting her face up to the sky.
I sink onto the bench.
“I get it. I get there’s a lot going on here and it was all fast and furious last week …Harper, if you want space, I’ll give it to you. I’ll go and stay with Finn and Caroline until I find my own place—”
Harper spins around.
I hold up my hand. “No. We both lost Nate. And the irony here is you were always jealous of the history we had, but really you lost more of him than I did. You…your grief, it’s bigger than mine. It’s more important than mine.”
Harper sighs. “It’s not a competition.”
“It’s not,” I agree. “It just is what it is. And trust me, I’d do anything to take more of your pain, I swear I would. I can’t. But I can’t live knowing I’m causing you more pain when I’ve done more than enough of that already.”
Harper tugs at the sleeves of my hoodie, pulling them well over her hands. “It’s not you …it’s everyone else. ”
I know Finn has kept our secret. If he told my sister she would’ve wasted no second cross examining me.
“Who?” I ask, but really I want to scream, who else matters? Because the one person who does matter isn’t here and never will be again.
I twist away, turning my head down the beach toward The Shack. My eyebrows raise.
“Silas?” I ask, facing Harper again. “What did he say to you the other day?”
Harper shakes her head.
I step forward and tilt her chin up to look at me. “I only care about what you think,” I say before adding, “And Lucas. Not anyone else. And sure as hell not Silas.”
I don’t know what I hate more—the way Harper’s lips tremble or how she shakes her head, trying to rid herself of the emotion.
“You and me together might raise eyebrows. It might make people wonder things. Fuck what anyone else thinks. It’s not like when you were a kid afraid of what people might say about where you came from. When you’re a kid, you get a hall pass. But I’m calling you out on your bullshit.”
Harper hangs her head. “Riley…”
I place my hand on my chest. “Ask me what I think.”
“What?”
“Ask me what I think.”
Harper looks off to the side.
“Fine,” I begin. “I’ll tell you. I think you’re the best mother because you know what the worst is like. I think you love big because you want to be loved back even bigger. You’re smart and determined. You like to have fun. But you’re a hypocrite.”
Harper whips her head back to me, mouth opening in apparent surprise.
“You told me not to care about what others think. And you know what? I don’t anymore. I don’t care if people think I’m stupid because I know I’m not. I don’t care if people think what I’m about to do for Tides is crazy. Because I know what that dog means and it’s not crazy . You’re the one who taught me that. When are you going to take your own advice?”
My chest heaves.
“Forget what everyone else thinks. Think about how this feels.” I take her hand and press it against her chest. “This heart? Me? I’m yours. And call it fate or whatever, but I could only be yours in this very moment. After Nate died, I thought I was just seeing you in a different light. I was wrong.”
I move Harper’s hand from her chest to my cheek.
“You’re lighting everything up around me and now I see how lucky I am to be in this life with you in it. My life looks different now. And…and I love it. And…”
Harper’s mouth trembles.
“And we’re family . Screw anyone who doesn’t get it.”
Harper shakes her head. “You didn’t even like me a few months ago.”
She doesn’t get it. She couldn’t possibly get it. That who I was—what I was—before is as dead as her husband. The difference between me and my best friend, who lies unfairly six-feet under, is that I came back to life. Harper brought me back to life.
Clearing my throat, I release her chin and slide my hand up Harper’s face to palm her cheek. “I could love you, if you’d let me. Maybe I’ll be a better man because of it.”
A small, surprised gasp escapes Harper’s mouth, but I continue.
“I haven’t done a lot right in my life, okay? With you, I want to do it right. But how you feel is always going to be more important than what I want. ” I shudder. “I’m putting the ball in your court, but you’ve got to give me a clear line here. Grey areas make me nervous.”
That’s always how it’s been for me. I need words loud and clear. I need direction.
Harper presses her lips together. “I…I want…I need a minute. ”
She pulls her hand from my face and our arms fall at the same time.
I don’t know what’s harder—watching Harper walk away with my heart, or knowing, for the sake of her own, having to pretend to be okay with it.
I only lasted another twenty minutes at Ship-Slapped before I go home, unable to handle the continuous congratulations when all I felt was soul-crushing defeat.
But I don’t escape that at home, either. In fact, it’s worse. There’s an overwhelming sense of wanting to exist organically in the space where Harper and Lucas live, like I belong in the kitchen botching pancakes, cursing as I step on a Lego in the living room, making my way upstairs with an arm draped around Harper after an exhausting day of wrangling Lucas.
But just because I’m ready for all those things doesn’t mean she is and I have to respect that even if it kills me.
Really, really kills me.
Still in need of fresh air, I sit on the steps leading to my apartment and pull out my phone, checking my email.
If I don’t get an answer from Harper tonight, at least I have one about our hearing date, which is now scheduled for this Friday, the day of the competition.
“Sounds about right,” I mutter and rub my temples.
I straighten when the lights illuminate the driveway as Harper pulls in, parking her car beside mine. My heart relaxes, but only just the slightest. Because Harper makes no move to get out of the car for what might be the longest minute of my life.
When she finally opens the door, Harper doesn’t immediately head into the house. She simply stands beside her car, staring straight at me for what is now the second longest minute of my life .
Since I know Harper made it home safely, I stand to head upstairs. But her voice keeps me in place.
“You said my grief is bigger, that it’s more important.”
When I turn around, I find her playing with the zipper of my hoodie.
“It’s not more important, Riley. It’s just big , alright? Because when Nate died he took our life with him. But I lost something else that night too.”
I swallow heavily before croaking out, “What’s that?”
Harper moves closer and I feel better that I see her face is tear free. But the heartbreaking tone of what she says next slices through me.
“You.”
“Me?”
Harper nods. “Who you were to me, that’s gone. Seeing you as who I thought you were, that’s gone. And you have to understand something, Riley. I hate it took Nate dying for me to see you in an entirely different light. And…”
The crack in her voice has me moving in her direction, but with slow steps for fear I’ll scare her away. “And what , Harper?”
“And if I let myself be happy with you, be a family with you…”
I can’t handle it. I reach out to hold her. But when the way she flinches makes me do the same.
“That must mean,” she pushes out through a small sob, “that I’m thankful he’s gone, right? And that makes me the world’s worst person, doesn’t it?”
I shake my head immediately.
“No. God, no. It doesn’t mean that.” I dip slightly, so I can be closer to her eye level. “Of course you’re not happy he’s gone. That doesn’t mean you can’t be happy I’m still here.”
The short, shaky breaths that battle to free themselves from Harper’s throat, and the way her hands ball into small fists at her side let me know Harper using everything within her to hold back .
“You know, when I came home I was dead set on pulling back entirely. I wish I was strong enough to just leave you to figure it out. But I can’t. Don’t fight this,” I plead. “We need each other.”
“Don’t ignore how we wouldn’t need each other at all if he was still alive,” Harper spits back, gasping when I cup her shoulders because she couldn’t be more wrong about anything in her entire life. We did need each other back then. We had each other back then. It was just different.
“You think I ignore that? Why? Just because we put it all out on the table and decided we’re worth fighting for, I’m what, over it? I’ll never be the same after losing Nate. Ever. But I’m still here . You’re here. We’re alive. You and me, Harper. And me, right now? I need you to keep breathing.”
I hate that she trembles under my touch even though I know it’s not from fear, not from me at least. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to not stop it, to soothe her soul from inside out, to reassure her with every part of my body—including my heart—that what we’re doing is okay, that we’re okay together.
“Harper…”
When she shakes her head, I tilt my head to the side to hide my grimace and move away toward the stairs.
Maybe this is my penance for letting Nate die, for looking at Harper as the furthest thing from his wife. Maybe I have to get used to being the man who hugs her without holding her, who cares about her without loving her. But I don’t want that. As much as I don’t want to be the consolation prize, I also don’t want to have to settle for receiving it either.
“Riley.”
It’s me who squeezes my eyes shut now because Harper’s voice, the way she says my name like it’s the final word of a prayer is too damn much. I’m determined to take two steps at a time on my retreat, but Harper grabs my arm, using all her weight to turn me, crashing—and crushing—her body into me.
When her hands land on my face, fingers scratching at my beard, I swear, someone could break every bone in my body to free me from her and I’d keep holding on even in this unbalanced position.
And like how we are on the board together, when, more often than not, it seems impossible for me to hold her, right now I do.
Maybe we’re the magic after all.