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His response causes me to look up at him.
“What do you mean, protect me from my family?”
He shrugs, but even I know better than to assume that’s a shrug of ignorance. “Looks like you are under their thumb. If you marry me, you’ll have more freedom. I don’t care what you do as long as it’s nothing that makes me, or the business look bad. You want to go study… get a job? Marry me, and you can do whatever you want. I won’t stop you or try to lock you up like your parents do. With me, there is freedom.”
Don’t do it, Harlow… don’t fall into the trap.
Before I can stop myself, I’m asking the one question that’s been weighing on my mind since he started to talk.
“What… what if I’m in love with someone else? Would you care about that?”
Matt’s face doesn’t fill with shock or even anger, in fact, he looks, well, like he doesn’t care. “Honestly? As long as you pretend to be my wife publicly. I really don’t give a shit who you fuck on your time.” He’s being brutally honest, and even though I do appreciate his honesty, it still shocks me to the core.
“I don’t know if I can do that. If we get married, then I’m all in. It wouldn’t be fair to you or to who I love to step out.”
“We’ll make it work,” Matt says encouragingly, his hand coming to rest against my blanket-covered thigh. “You’ll see, it will eventually all work itself out. You still have my number, right?”
“Yeah, in my phone.” It dawns on me then. My phone. My eyes dart around the room, scanning the space for my backpack. I was so distraught, and in shock last night, I didn’t even think about my phone. I suck in a tiny breath of relief when I spot my old backpack in the corner of the room. Matt’s eyes follow mine, but he doesn’t say anything about my reaction.
“Call me if you need anything. I’ll come and rescue you from your parents if they get to be too much.” Matt gets off the bed and starts toward the door.
“I… I… will… probably sooner, rather than later.”
“Good. Bye, Princess. Talk soon,” he winks before turning and exiting the room, closing the door softly behind him.
As soon as the lock clicks in, I throw the blanket off and get up. Grabbing my backpack, I dump its content out on my bed and rummage through it until I find my phone. It’s still on silent like I had it when I was in class, and that is the reason I didn’t hear the 92 missed phone calls and 38 unread text messages. Most of them are from Oliver, Banks, and Sullivan, but a handful are from Caroline as well.
I scroll through the text messages.
Oliver: Where the hell are you? We are worried. Please call me.
Banks: Just text or call me, we just want to know you are okay. If you don’t want to be with us, it’s okay, we are just worried.
Sullivan: Did your dad make you leave? Are you at your family’s estate? Don’t worry, we are coming for you. We’ll find you and make this right.
Caroline: Please call me, girl, everyone is so worried.
I’m so angry. Angry at my parents, angry with myself for letting it come to this, and for some unexplained reason I’m even angry with the phone. I’m about to throw the damn thing across the room when it vibrates in my hand, and Oliver’s name lights up the screen.
I answer the phone before thinking about what to say. Holding it to my ear, I wait for Oliver’s voice to fill it.
“Harlow… Harlow, are you okay?” His voice hits me like a freight train. It’s harsh, painful, soft, and soothing all at once.
“Yeah, it’s me.” My voice comes out shaky and so quiet I wonder if he even heard me at all.
“God, do you know how worried we’ve been? Where are you? Are you safe? What the fuck happened?” Oliver bombards me with more questions before I can get a single answer in.
“Don’t yell at her,” Banks says in the background. Then the sound of movement and rustling comes through the receiver.
“Harlow?” Sullivan says, his voice calmer than his brother’s.
“Yeah…” Is all I can get out in this moment, too many emotions swirling around inside of me, right beneath the surface, just waiting to come out.
“Are you okay?” he asks the same question his brother asked.
“Yes,” I lie. “I’m fine.”
“What’s going on, baby?”
“We can’t be together,” I say, trying to keep my voice as steady as I can. “We don’t belong together, and what we did was a mistake. It never should have happened.”
“What are you talking about? We belong together,” Sullivan’s sweet voice caresses my ear.
“No, we don’t, and we never did,” I force myself to say. The words leave a bitter taste on the tip of my tongue.
