Page 7 of Freefall

She shakes her head. “It was good to see you,” she finishes, and I’m not convinced that’s what she really meant to say.

I glance down and notice she’s playing with that damn bracelet again. That’s when I notice the ‘Y’ I didn’t see before. What could she possibly have spelled out on her wrist? Is it another man's name? The thought makes me irrationally angry, so I mentally bat it away and ask a different question.

“How long?” Her forehead crinkles. “How long have you been back here?”

“Oh, um…a little over a month. I’ve been staying in my parents’ guesthouse. It’s not ideal, but it beats paying thousands a month for a two-bedroom rental.” She puffs out a laugh. “Anyway, it’s temporary.”

I nod, starting toward my car, but before I take another step, I face her again, staring at the water bottle she has wedged between her elbow and side. “When did you fill that up, Harper?”

Confusion flickers in her eyes, but then she follows my line of sight to the bottle, and when she looks back up, her expression has changed. “This morning,” she says innocently.

I can’t tell if she’s lying or not, but the mere suggestion that she’s only drunk a few sips of water all day has me seeing red.

There’s nothing I can do about it, I remind myself. She’s not mine. She hasn’t been for a long time. I shouldn’t care how much fucking water she’s consumed today.

When I don’t say anything, she shifts her feet on the ground. Good. Let her squirm a little.

I attempt to leave for the third time when she takes the bottle out from beneath her arm and unscrews the cap. Then she lifts it to her lips and takes the world’s tiniest sip, while keeping her gaze glued to mine.

My eyes narrow, and this time, when I turn around, I keep walking, but I can’t help but mutter the next word under my breath.

“Brat.”

I don’t know if she hears me, and honestly, I don't care at this point because it’s true. Harper Daniels is the biggest fucking brat I’ve ever met in my life, and she’s back. It’s not a dream. She’s here in the flesh, back in the town she grew up in. As I pull away, I will myself not to look in the rearview mirror, but as I’m about to turn out of the parking lot, I lose the battle, and there she is.

The woman who turned my life upside down nine years ago and then left me to pick up the pieces.

3

HARPER

A shiver runs down my body as I stand in the beach parking lot, attempting to recover from the last hour. I knew when I moved back here that I’d eventually run into Nate. It was inevitable. He lives in Emberfield, the next town over from the one I grew up in. It’s a little bigger than Baybridge, but still has that small-town New England charm people love.

I remember how surprised he was when he realized I went to his rival high school, and how odd he thought it was that we had never met before. I never got the chance to tell him that we had met before that fateful day in college. I’m not sure there will ever be a right time to tell him now.

Heaving my bag onto the passenger’s side of the car, I walk around and open the door. It sticks slightly before giving way, causing me to nearly stumble backward. Driving my brother’s relic of a Jeep is not ideal, but it didn’t make sense for me to pay all that money to ship my Acura from Colorado. Driving across the country alone with a seven-year-old also didn’t seem like the best idea. Luckily, my brother still had his old Jeep lying around and is happy to lend it to me until I get a new car. I didn’t realize just how old it was, but Daisy loves that she gets to ride around in a car with no roof.

The thought of my daughter makes my heart squeeze in a way it hasn’t in years. I don’t have to wonder why. Even though I knew a run-in was inevitable, the last thing I expected was for Nate Caldwell to be the fiancé of the client I was supposed to meet with today. Time has only enhanced the slightly boyish features he still had in college, turning him all man. I forgot how tall he is and how his perfectly chiseled jaw clenches when he’s irritated. How the veins in his forearm pop when he balls his hand into a fist. I had to stop myself from shamelessly eye-fucking him on more than one occasion. I could have reined in the sass, but watching the irritation slowly build behind his eyes was too damn satisfying.

He was cold at first, which wasn’t unexpected, but at some point, I saw it. The fire in his eyes when he saw those boudoir photos in my portfolio. The heat in his gaze when I took that tiny sip of water. It was almost as if we were right back in my dorm room before everything fell apart.

Despite his vague attempt at being cordial, I have no doubt that Nate still hates me, but then why does he care how much water I drink? As if there’s an invisible, Nate-shaped entity tugging at my arm, I instinctively reach over and grab the water bottle, twisting the cap before taking a large gulp this time. I wasn’t lying. I really did fill the water bottle up this morning, but I’ve been so busy that I’ve only taken a couple of sips.

Of course, if Nate knew the full truth, he definitely wouldn’t care about how much water I drink or anything else. I check the time and pull out of the parking spot. I have about an hour to kill before I have to pick Daisy up from school, so I decide to head over to the Baybridge Inn to scope out the area where the actual ceremony and reception will take place. It’s only when I enter through the front doors that the reality of what happened sinks in. I was so distracted by seeing Nate for the first time in years that I didn’t really think about the fact that he’s getting married.

He’s moved on.

Of course he has. It’s not like he waited around for me to suddenly reappear in his life. I’m happy for him. I really am.

The pit in my stomach? That ache in my chest? That’s just leftover from the fact that he was someone I loved once. It’s normal. First loves leave the biggest marks, right? Or whatever the saying is. I try not to think about how I couldn’t even say the word “fiancée” once I realized who he was.

Shaking the thought from my mind, I let my eyes wander around the inn, taking in the familiar atmosphere. I haven’t been here since my parents splurged on dinner after my high school graduation, but as I glance around, not much has changed—the same vintage wooden beams support the ceiling, the same plush armchairs sit invitingly by the fireplace. The inn blends New England charm with rustic elegance. As I approach the reception desk, I greet the woman with a friendly smile, explaining why I’m here, and she agrees to show me around the venue.

“This is where most of our ceremonies take place. There are a few other spots. Some people opt for the infinity garden, but this is our most popular. Do you know which location your clients have chosen?”

The sound of waves crashing against the rocks below fills the air, and I take a deep breath, filling my lungs with the salt spray. “No, I’m not sure,” I say, turning back to the woman who is still standing beside me. “I just know they are having their wedding here at the inn.”

The woman smiles, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “I’m happy to take you to the garden next if that would be helpful,” she offers.