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RYAN
I can’t get enoughof Harper. It doesn’t matter what time of the day it is, or that we just had several more rounds of hot sex last night. If we hadn’t fallen asleep curled around each other after the last time, we might still be at it. Instead, we replenished our energy and went for a quick trip to the grocery store. Now we’re walking along the busy Saturday morning Manhattan streets to get to Harper’s apartment.
Despite the fact she’s right next to me and has a small smile on her face, she can’t completely hide that something’s going on with her. I’m just not sure what to do about it. Should I push her or leave her alone? She said she’s okay, so it might be about something she doesn’t want to tell me. Or maybe she thinks she can’t, or shouldn’t? Sometimes she stares at me with an ominous glimpse in her eyes, or she acts weird, but maybe those are her nerves? It’s hard to tell.
Until she opens up by herself, there isn’t much I can do, no matter how insane it drives me. All I want to do is fix whatever isn’t right.
Harper snorts beside me. “I can’t get over the expression on that woman’s face when you took the picture with the plum. It was priceless.”
Her laughter is infectious, and I chuckle before I stop on the sidewalk.
Seeing her happy makes me happy. And that has to be enough. Everything else will fall into place over time. At least I hope so.
She realizes I’m not next to her anymore and comes to a halt. “What are you doing?”
“Looking at you.”
Her head tilts down a fraction, and her eyelids flutter. “You’re silly.”
The smile on her face is blindingly beautiful, and I love it.
So much better than the depressed gazes. Even more so because I’m the reason for that smile. I’m the one who put it there. Then why do I feel like I got punched in the gut?
Maybe because you’re still not sure if you’re also the reason for the depressed gazes?
Now I’m going down that rabbit hole again. Maybe her wonky mood is contagious. Or are the pregnancy hormones behind this?
Hell if I know.
We continue walking, our hands filled with grocery bags as we come up to a tall apartment building. The doorman greets us, holding the door open so we can slip inside. We say hello and head to the elevators.
“Oh, Miss Harper, one moment. I accepted a package for you. Let me get it.” The doorman skitters away, and Harper stops in front of me.
The elderly man comes back and holds out a long rectangular box.
Since Harper’s struggling to take it, I switch my bags from one side to the other so I have a free hand. “I’ll take it.”
Harper mouths, “Thank you,” to me and turns to the man to give him a big smile. “Thanks, Fred. I appreciate it.”
“You’re most welcome, Miss.” He tips his head and goes back to his desk.
We take the elevator up to the fifteenth floor, and I follow Harper down the hallway to her apartment. Or rather her mother’s apartment. And thank fuck, nothing about this building has any resemblance to my screwed-up dream.
The apartment is bright and friendly, with lots of white and cream and a few blue accents. I help Harper put away the groceries in the kitchen. If there’s one thing I learned at the grocery store today, it’s that Harper loves cheese, fruit, chocolate pudding, and popcorn. Hopefully she doesn’t eat it all together.
She puts away the empty grocery bags, just as a tabby walks into the kitchen. Ah, the infamous Bacon. He completely ignores me and goes straight for Harper’s legs, circling around them in a figure eight and meowing.
“There you are, buddy.” She pets the top of his head and scratches behind his ears. “Yes, I’m getting your food.”
Harper gets a can out of a cabinet and puts the food in a bowl on the floor. Then she refills another bowl with fresh water. Turning to me, she says, “I just need to clean out his litter box and get my things and then we can head out again.”
I grab her hand and pull her against me. “Why don’t you tell me where the litter box is? I’ll do it.”
“What?” She frowns at me. “You don’t have to do that.”
“Harper, let me do it.”
She chuckles and goes on her toes to kiss me. “Fine. Thank you.”
