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“I’m going to ask you for something I have no right to, but if I don’t, I doubt I’ll ever get my wife back.”
Griff lets out a rough sigh over the line. “You want us to tell her our stories and persuade her to tell us what she endured in the hopes that it will help her.”
I can’t call Harlow’s brother slow. “If she can see that you two have been able to move past whatever happened and that you aren’t letting that stand in the way of your happiness, maybe she could heal. She doesn’t feel whole or ready or sure of herself.”
“Maxon has been saying for a while that he’s sure something happened her first year of college.”
“He’s right.” I can’t say more than that without betraying her confidence. Harlow needs to tell her story herself. But will she?
“Fuck.” I hear a loud crash that sounds very much like Griff slammed a door or punched a wall. “I should never have left her with those two vipers. I should never have believed that they saw her as the pretty princess of the family whom they’d never sully or touch. Maxon will blame himself, too.”
“There was probably nothing you could have done then. But you can absolutely help her now. Please… This is really my last hope. If Harlow won’t forgive herself and let this go, I’m going to wind up divorced at the end of a year and spend the rest of my life fucking miserable and alone. I know none of that is your problem—”
“It’s Harlow’s. Sheneedsyou.” Griff pauses. “I’ve always wondered why Harlow wasn’t the ‘love’ type. As a kid, she was into princesses and weddings and all that fairy-tale stuff. And always babies. I thought she’d marry young and happily, have a huge family and… Goddamn it. After high school, she seemed to stop dating. Simon was a surprise. I couldn’t imagine why she was eager to marry someone she didn’t love.” He sighs. “Her running out on the wedding was epic. I wish you could have seen it.”
Me, too.
“But?”
“I’ve never seen her as happy as when I’ve seen her with you, and the woman staying in my guest bedroom right now is so fragile I barely recognize her.”
That hits me like a blow to the gut, so hard I can’t breathe. “You gotta help me, man.”
“I’ll do what I can. She’s planning to fly back to San Diego on Sunday. She was offered a job before she came here. She’s talked about taking it.”
Oh, god. If she leaves for California, getting her to come back to Maui—to me—will be between difficult and impossible.
“Anything. Please.”
“I’ll call Maxon now. We’ll have a heart-to-heart intervention and see if we can’t help you both. I spent three long, miserable years without Britta because I couldn’t get over my shit. I want more than that for my sister. If two people ever belonged together, it’s you.”
We rang off after Griff promised to call me tomorrow. The next twenty-four hours are going to be torture. I haven’t shaved in two days. I can’t even remember the last time I ate. I’ve done nothing except for lift weights until exhaustion set in, catnap, and think of ways to win my wife back.
The sun has come and gone by the time I look up again. Hours have passed, and I don’t even know what I’ve done with them except for think of Harlow and wish again that anxiety hadn’t seized me at the worst possible time. Calling Cliff to curse him out should have made me feel better. Or at least like I had accomplished something. The only satisfaction I got was in knowing I did the right thing in telling my agent that if he can’t respect my wife and treat her with the deference he’s shown me, then he needs to get the hell out of my life and career. He called me later to tell me that he’d left Harlow a voice mail explaining and apologizing. Not that it made a difference. Why would it when she’s not upset with me, merely convinced that believing the worst for even a moment means she’s not ready to love me. I’m not expecting a perfect wife, just Harlow.
God, I could think in circles for hours.
A knock at my front door pulls me out of my reverie. I glance at my phone. Who the hell could be stopping by at nine o’clock at night? Since the list of approved visitors is small, it’s one of a handful of people. I’d love to see my wife…but I’m not holding my breath.
With a groan, I lurch off the sofa and tug open the door. Trace fills the doorway with a stack of mail in hand and a solemn expression full of sympathy. “Hey, bro. I came to cheer you up. I got off the plane about two hours ago. Makuahine told me that you and Harlow have…separated. I can’t even imagine why. You love her and she loves you.”
“It’s complicated.”
He strolls in and sets the mail down, shaking his head. “If it’s this Mercedes Fleet situation, couldn’t Harlow have waited until the test results came back?”
Test results. It’s Friday. I should have them already.
“It’s not that simple,” I answer as I grab my phone and open my e-mail. The paternity problem isn’t the reason my wife left me…but it didn’t help. “In fact, it’s a huge complication because Harlow is pregnant. We’d planned to wait a few weeks before we told the family. The wedding was enough, but now…I guess I might as well let the cat out of the bag. So not only have I lost my wife but I’m losing my son or daughter. I didn’t think that would hit me so hard but it’s got my fucking chest in a grinder.”
“You’re not giving up, right? Fight for her, man.”
How do I get her to fight herself on my behalf?
A glance at my screen reveals an email from the independent lab we hired to process the blood results. With a shaky breath, I open and scan the response. Then I frown. None of what they’re saying makes sense.
“What’s wrong?” my brother asks, easing me into a chair. “You turned a shade of pale I’ve never seen on you.”
“The test results areinconclusive? What the hell? I never touched that woman. I never even met her. The test results should be fucking zero and I don’t understand why they’re not.”
