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RYAN
Two weeks later,I’m on a plane, beyond ready to see Harper again. It’s been almost two months since she visited me in California, and I can’t wait another day to see her, so I’m flying out to surprise her.
The plane lands in New York before I know it, and a cab whizzes me into the city. I check into my hotel before making my way to Harper’s apartment. The anticipation builds with each step I take. When was the last time I was this excited?
I take in everything, immediately noticing how nice the apartment building looks. Beige tapestries, black-and-white checkered tile floor. Modern yet elegant. The instant I’m on the elevator and push the button for the eleventh floor, my stomach churns. The abrupt stopping as we reach my destination makes it even worse.
I try to shake off the foreboding that’s been spreading through my body on my way over, but my steps still falter when I get to her door. My fingers tingle as I brush my hand across my face and through my hair. Why am I suddenly so nervous?
Stop being such a chickenshit.
After a few deep breaths, I raise my hand and knock on the brown door. Then I wait, and wait some more.
No one opens, so I pull out my phone to text her.
Ryan: Hey. What are you doing? Are you home?
Time passes.
No answer.
Damn it.
I call her, something I probably should have done right away. It keeps ringing, but still nothing. I hang up and try again. She doesn’t answer, but . . . wait a second. Is there a phone ringing in the apartment? And now, there’s a voice?
No, more than one voice.
What the hell is going on?
I hang up and go back to knocking on the door, this time louder. Quick footsteps sound behind the door before it swings open.
And there she is.
Harper.
MyHarper as I’ve started to think of her.
With her gorgeous smile I love so much. Her kind soul. Her humor.
But her smile slips when she sees me.
“Ryan?” Her eyes widen. “What . . . what are you doing here?”
My brain fires up, trying to figure out what’s going on.
I take a step back, the uncomfortable feeling in my stomach multiplying, heavier than before.
I raise my hands to the sides, palms up. “Surprise?”
It comes out as a question. Why does it seem like she doesn’t want me here?
“Damn it.” The words come out as a whisper, and she glances behind her. “Ryan, listen, I . . . I don’t know what to say. If I’d known you were coming, I would have . . .” Another glance behind her.
“You would have what?”
“I don’t know. Prepared you?”
“Prepared me for what?” My patience is slowly dwindling, and I’m ready for some answers. “Harper, what’s going on?”
