Chapter 34
We stare at each other for a minute, Harry’s face blank, Darcy’s flaming-red, tears streaming down mine as so many emotions I’ve kept locked up tight claw out of me, demanding to be felt.
“Harry,” I repeat.
He shakes his head, dragging a hand roughly through his hair. “You … you don’t have to explain.”
“Yes, I do,” I say, finding my footing. I walk to him. He traces my movement, then comes back to himself, meeting me halfway with jerky steps. We both hesitate for a beat, then he opens his arms, and I crash into him with a hug. The tears come even harder.
“Hey, now, what’s this for?” he asks. He pulls back, tilting my face up until I’m forced to look at him.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, my chin wobbling. “This wasn’t … this wasn’t how we wanted you to find out.”
Harry’s jaw tics, and he looks from me to Darcy, then back again, lines etched along his forehead. “Don’t say sorry, Cub. Honestly, I should have guessed as much.”
I blink at him in suprise, and he lets out a long sigh, smile sad but reaching his eyes. “Let’s talk, love.”
I scrub my tear-streaked face as we all sit down, trying to pull myself together. I feel raw and exposed. Happy and brokenhearted. I’ve gone so long trying to feel nothing at all that it’s like my body is forcing me to feel the gamut of human emotions all at once.
Harry clears his throat. “So, this—”
“We’re in love,” Darcy blurts out, hand reaching out for mine.
Harry’s sigh is deep and wistful, and he looks off to the side for a long moment. I study his profile. That sharp nose. The long sweep of eyelashes across his cheek. The stray hairs that fall over his creased forehead. He turns back to us.
“I’ve had my suspicions of as much,” he says slowly. That sad smile is back, and a tiny whimper tumbles from my throat, hating myself for putting that pain there. Harry shakes his head, making a tsk sound. “No more of the tears, Cub. I mean it. Everything is okay. You don’t need to feel sad.”
“Yes I do,” I cry, my hand clutching Darcy’s, my other reaching for him. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes this summer, and hurting you is one of my worst.”
“I’ll recover,” he says, those devastatingly blue eyes filled with tenderness.
“You should be mad at me.”
He tilts his head, a playful smile tugging at his lips. “Do you want me to be mad at you? At my two favorite people?”
“It would probably make this conversation hurt less,” Darcy says.
Harry laughs. “I could never make it easy on ya now, could I? Where’s the fun in that?”
I stare at him, my eyes watery.
“What’s wrong?” he murmurs, wiping another stray tear from my cheek.
“I feel terrible for hurting you. For not … not feeling the same way and you finding out like this. You deserve better than that.”
“Cubby, I love you. You know that.”
I bite my lip, looking down. With the softest pressure, he uses his fingers to tilt my chin up. “I love you as more than a friend, but it’s nothing close to the way you love Darcy. Or the way Darcy loves you.”
I open my mouth, but Darcy beats me to it. “How did you…?”
“Like it or not, I see you two,” Harry says with another rough laugh. “I notice things. Small things. But you two also make it so painfully obvious. The forlorn glances, the sighs, the theatrics of it all … I’m not as dense as you might think. Like I said, I’ve suspected something for a while.”
We stare at him as he chooses his next words with great care. “I was always kind of expecting you two to get together during school. Or you’d see what was right in front of you while Connor was jerking you about, Cub.”
He takes a moment to frown at the memories, and I do too.
“There’s something uniquely special in the bond you two have,” he continues. “The closeness. It’s been a long time coming, in my opinion. I was just foolish enough to see if the spark I feel for you could compare.”
I watch him swallow, jaw tense as he continues, “My love for you both—the love you have for each other—far outweighs any skin I had in the game. I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t some afterburn in this moment—it’s never easy to love someone who doesn’t love you the same—but any aches I feel are minimal compared to how fecking happy I am for you. ”
Darcy is properly crying along with me now, a sniveling mess, the pair of us.
“What about you?” I ask.
“I’ll recover,” he repeats, squeezing my hand, then letting it go.
“I want you to be happy. I want you to be loved as much as you deserve.”
He tuts, giving me a chiding smile. “I’m twenty-three, Cubby, not one hundred and three. I’ll find someone.”
“Aren’t you…” I swallow, shaking my head. “Never mind.”
“Aren’t I what, babe?”
“Aren’t you scared of being alone?” I whisper. I feel Darcy at my side. She knows the darkness of loneliness as harshly as I do.
He laughs through his nose, tilting his head back and blinking up at the ceiling. “’Course I am … Isn’t everybody? But just because I’m alone doesn’t mean I’m lonely.”
Darcy scrunches up her nose. “Christ, you’re emotionally evolved. It’s a bit disturbing. Cubby would’ve destroyed you with her cold, bitter heart.”
I let out a gasp, a disgusting bubble of snot popping out of my nose, making my best friends recoil, then howl with laughter as I frantically cover up my mess.
“You certainly know how to stroke a fella’s ego,” Harry says, passing me a napkin from the nearby coffee table with a horrified look. “But if anyone’s up for the challenge of this one”—he cocks his thumb at me—“it’s you, Darce.”
“I know,” she whispers, giving my hand a squeeze.
“None of this changes us, I want you to know that,” Harry says, turning serious. “You are my best friends. I don’t want life without ya.”
“I don’t want that either.”
“Not up for negotiation,” Darcy adds.
We share a smile, sitting in comfortable silence for a moment. “What comes next?” I ask eventually.
Harry shrugs, glancing at the door. “Well, I reckon we go do this show, then start planning out our Cubby Clark Is Madly in Love album.”