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His voice is velvet that soothes my frazzled nerves, the endearment of “baby” a splash of happiness. It tells me he’s in a good place this morning and he doesn’t want to be there alone. This lights me up and I smile, before I sip the coffee. “It’s delicious,” I say, savoring the chocolatey flavor like I’m savoring this moment with this man. “What is that?”
“Coconut creamer.”
“Okay, no wonder. That’s sinful.”
He laughs, his lips curving into a smile, and God he has beautiful lips. He doesn’t smile often and it’s another thing that pleases me. I decide right then to see that smile often. It’s a mission and one I will embrace for the rest of my life. “Finish that cup,” he says. “I’ll grab another.” He stands up and heads toward the kitchen, a hero who gives away his coffee for his woman. What more could a girl want?
More of him.
I want more of him.
Exactly why I stand up and follow him, remotely aware of the fact that my hair must be standing on end, and my make-up smudged everywhere, but I don’t care. I feel that comfortable with Eric. It’s hard to believe we fought over the apartment and me feeling like I didn’t belong. It was like a bleep on the screen, an emotional day that wasn’t about us at all. Because the truth is, I feel that at home here, and so very easily, and that’s a bit surreal. Everyone wants that kind of comfort with another human being, but how often do they find it?
Eric makes a beeline for the coffee pot and reaches above it to a cabinet to remove another cup. I stop at the island behind him. Obviously aware that I’m here, he eyes me over his shoulder. “You should explore the apartment. Find out what’s here. We can go shopping.” He fills his cup and turns to me.
I laugh. “You are shopping.” I set my cup down. “I love everything here, especially you.” I sober, thinking about my mother. We’re going to run into her. Of course, we will. “Nothing my mother says matters to me. You know that, right?”
He puts away the creamer and steps to the island across from me. “Iknow, baby. Iknow.”
“Then why am I not at her hotel right now, confronting her, getting what we need, and just ending this? Then we can enjoy that ride you mentioned every day, not just for little fleeting moments.”
“We need to watch her. We need to see who she meets. What she does.”
“The feeling we had last night, about something coming. We can’t wait. No, I don’t want to wait. I’ll make her talk. I’m going to shower and then I need to just go see her, Eric.” I sip the coffee. “Decision made.”
“Harper, we need—”
“We need—”
“Each other,” I say leaning on the counter.
His eyes warm. “Yes. We do. Don’t forget that but you know that’s not my point.”
“You’re trying to protect me. Thank you, but I got this.” I turn and head for the bedroom, snatching my phone from the coffee table on the way.
I half expect Eric to follow, but his cellphone rings, and I fight the urge to turn and find out who’s calling. I need a shower. I need to be dressed. I need some semblance of control and that feels likeit comes from my mother. This idea quickens my pace and it’s not long before I’m under the spray of warm water, suds in my hair, and try as I might, I can’t stop thinking about Eric downstairs, about the call that had to be some kind of news I don’t know.
I finish up and once I’m out of the shower, there’s still no Eric. It feels off. It feels like I need to get downstairs. I hurry into the closet, pull on a pair of dark jeans, a lacy pink blouse, and boots. I hurry through my make-up routine and then start drying my hair. That part isn’t fast and it’s driving me nuts. Finally, it’s dry, flat ironed, and I’m about to head downstairs when my cellphone rings. I glance at the caller ID, and the international number sets my heart racing. I grab the phone and quickly answer. “Gigi?”
“Yes. Listen quickly. They’ve found me. I need to tell you before I can’t.”
“Tell me what?”
“I need to,” the line cuts out, “and then,” more static. “Isaac is,” more static. “And your mother knows the truth about Eric. She knows, Harper. I’m sorry, but—” There’s a pounding sound. “Oh God. Oh God. They’re here. It’s over for me.” She sobs. The line goes dead.
“Oh my God,” I whisper, and quickly dial Blake.
He answers on the first ring. “Blake, Gigi just called me. I couldn’t make out half of what she said but someone was there for her. She was scared.”
“I picked up the call,” he says. “We’re tracing it. More soon.” He hangs up. Obviously, this is time sensitive. I grab the sink.The truth about Eric. What does that even mean? Well, I know it’s not good. I know that already but what is it that Gigi seems to be warning me of? I don’t understand any of this. I push off the counter and turn to exit the bathroom when Eric appears in the doorway, his hands on either side of the archway. His expression is taut, jaw hard, eyes haunted.
“What happened?”
“He’s dead.”
I jolt with the words. “Your father?”
“Yes. My father.”
