I must have fallen asleep at some point, because it feels like I’ve just closed my eyes when Harper stirs next to me.
“Luke?” Her voice is muffled as she sits up and grabs her phone. It brings a soft light to the room, though it’s still daytime, the light peaking in through a crack in the curtains. “It’s already three p.m.?”
We’ve been out for a couple hours then.
I’m still yawning when she crosses the room to open the curtains. Everything looks exactly the same, as if I never closed my eyes. I realize I might feel worse now than I did before I fell asleep. Harper, however, looks like a kid who just woke up on Christmas morning.
“Come on!” She grabs her jacket off the floor.
“I can’t move.” I sigh and cover my hands with an arm draped over my face.
I don’t have to look at her to know she’s rolling her eyes at me. Before I know it, there’s a sharp tug of my hand and my arm is no longer over my face. Harper is surprisingly strong as she attempts to yank me off the bed. Part of me is tempted to let her and see just how far she’d be willing to drag my body across the hotel room. She has me almost off the bed, making me consider how easily she could move a dead body, when I sit up and pull my arm back. I expected her to let go when she saw me sit up, but she’s so focused on pulling that I end up yanking her toward me.
She stumbles. Her knees buckle to the floor and her arms fly out to catch herself, gripping my forearms. Her face collides with my chest.
“Are you okay?” I ask, trying to pull her up, but she’s laughing and lacks the composure to stand.
I wrap my arms around her, the way I wanted to wrap my arms around her when she was sleeping. The feeling of her in my arms, of her body against me, feels like the most natural thing in the world.
If lying about being married was bad karma, the universe clearly didn’t get the memo.
“Move now,” she says between a giggle, “or forever miss sightseeing in Reykjavik.” She lifts her head from my chest, still kneeling on the floor, and our eyes lock when she looks at me. For a moment, I feel like I can’t breathe—shouldn’t breathe, or the spell between us will be broken. The utter joy in her eyes as she looks at me pulls my heart into a knot that can’t be escaped.I remind myself that she isn’t mine and that kissing her would ruin everything. Not just this trip, but everything we’ve built over the years.
Her face goes flat, like she noticed the moment we were having and wanted it gone. Harper blinks, pulls away, and puts as much distance between us as possible without making it too clear she’s trying to get away from me.
I want to reach out for her hand and pull her to me again, but Harper won’t meet my eyes.
So this is it, then—a reminder of where we stand. Not lovers. Friends. Just friends. And I’ll have to be fine with that.
Chapter 11
Harper
Stupid, stupid, stupid! I should have just let Luke get up on his own. I didn’t need to try and drag him off the bed. Apparently, that’s a very girlfriend thing to do, because when Luke moved, I ended up practically on his lap, cuddled up against his chest. When I looked up at him, I thought he was going to lean down and kiss me.
Even worse, I was tempted to let it play out and see what would happen. Then the reality of the situation struck me, and I pulled away.
Ava will have a great time making fun of me when she hears how this trip has gone. It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours yet.
Since we slept through lunch, we’re both hungry by the time we make it out of the hotel room. We walk through the city, taking photos of landmarks and the view and keeping an eye out for anything interesting. We find a pond in the heart of the city, surrounded by colorful buildings with unique arches and gables. A handful of swans and ducks swim close to the edge, waiting to be fed.
“Anything fun going on at the country club these days?” Luke leans against a stone railing that overlooks the pond.
I shrug.
He cocks his eyebrow, surprised. When I first started the job, I’d tell Luke any juicy gossip I’d overhear from the guests, but lately I’ve been confining myself to my office.
“Nothing to report?” he asks.
I look down at the water. “I kind of want to quit.”
“Really? I thought you loved the country club?”
“I mean, it’s gorgeous.” When I first started, I felt like a million bucks walking through the property. “But I hate the job itself. It’s not really what I thought it would be.”
“What did you think it would be?”
“I don’t know, but it’s turned into realizing how poor I am,” I say with a dry laugh.
