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“Not really. Most everyone who attended the wedding thought I should have told Simon to fuck off in private and spared him the terrible embarrassment and possible professional fallout.”
“Why should you spare that dirtbag anything? He doesn’t deserve any consideration from you.”
Harlow shrugs. “That’s what I thought, but my dad told me to take off my rose-colored glasses and realize that men have ‘needs’ that no one woman can possibly satisfy. My mom backed him up and told me that if I wanted to continue to live in beautiful houses and drive sleek new cars, I wasn’t going to earn enough money on my salary, so I’d better marry well and learn to put up with some of the less pleasant aspects of marriage.”
Her parents sound fucking warped. “Do either of them understand what marriage is supposed to be?”
“If they did, would they be getting divorced?” she asks cynically. “The only people on my side through all of this have been my brothers and their wives. Most everyone else is telling me to grow up, get over myself, and grovel to Simon until he takes me back.”
“Then everyone else is fucked up. That asshole should be thinking about the child he’s got coming with his assistant and leave you in peace. After the way he hurt you, that’s the least he can do. You loved him and—”
“I didn’t.” The words are a soft denial. “The truth is, I never did.”
If she’d shouted her feelings, I wouldn’t have believed her. But her expression is so resigned I know she’s being honest.
“Even though you were engaged to him?” I ask in surprise. Sure, I’ve seen gold diggers work a teammate over until he’s eager to walk down the aisle. I know those marriages will only last as long as the money flows. But Harlow doesn’t strike me as that kind of woman.
I’ve never been tempted to get married before because I want what my parents had. Sometimes they didn’t have two nickels to rub together, but they had love. They knew what it took to make marriage work in good times and bad, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health. They stuck it out until the day my dad died. But if he’d done to my mom what Simon had done to Harlow, she would have kicked his ass and walked out, too.
“I know what you must be thinking. In retrospect, Iwasa moron. My dad introduced us. Simon does business in sectors my dad would like to break into, while Simon needs the contacts my dad has in the U.S. They began forming some partnership, but my dad didn’t want Simon to have any opportunity to slip through his fingers, so he cooked up this notion that the two of us should get married. I was reluctant at first, but Simon and I dated for a while. He was busy…but so was I. That was fine. He seemed all right. Finally, we got around to talking about marriage. He didn’t have annoying habits. He was polite. He gave me plenty of space. I liked him better than at least half the guys I’d dated, so I figured…why not.”
“Baby, you’re supposed to love the person you marry madly and completely.”
She gives me an uncomfortable shrug. “I’ve never loved anyone like that. I figured friendship and companionship would make the whole thing workable, give us a decent environment to raise children. That’s what I was looking forward to, holding my baby and being able to love him or her with my whole heart.”
Because she clearly hadn’t done that with her fiancé. But that begs the question, why hasn’t she ever loved anyone madly and completely?
“So when you found out he was having a baby with his assistant, you showed him the door.”
“It wasn’t even that simple. I might have let it slide. Really. Simon wasn’t in love with me, either. If he’d been mad about her, I would have let him go and wished them well. The thing I couldn’t forgive was that he told me he wasn’t ready for children. I’d gone off the pill about three months before the wedding, hoping I’d get pregnant on my honeymoon. Two days before the wedding, I told Simon and he blew a gasket, said we should make those decisions together. When he put it that way, I couldn’t disagree, especially after he claimed he wanted to be more established in his career before he could devote the sort of time he thought children deserved. I was bummed but also glad that he intended to take fatherhood seriously. Since I’m young, I decided I could be patient for a year or two. So I made arrangements to go back on the pill at the beginning of my next cycle. The next morning, the video of Simon fucking Mandy and talking about their baby was sitting in my inbox. I don’t know who sent it, and it really doesn’t matter. The fact that he had no problem knocking her up, then giving me excuses that didn’t apply to his mistress is what pissed me off.”
“Simon is a massive bleeding hemorrhoid who deserves to have his balls whittled from his body with a paring knife.”
“Probably, but he’s not worth my effort.”
She’s right.
“Come here, baby.” I reach for her, cup her shoulders, and try to pull her into my arms.
Harlow jerks back. “I don’t need comforting. Thanks, but I’m not heartbroken. Other than being embarrassed, I’m fine.”
I don’t think she is but insisting otherwise will only raise her hackles. “Were you the one who uploaded the video to YouTube?”
Alarm skitters across her face. “Someone put that online? Oh, god.”
“As of fifteen minutes ago, it’s had roughly three million views.”
She sits staring and gaping at me, not moving, not breathing. Then suddenly she dashes for the attached bathroom and tries to slam the door between us. She doesn’t put enough arm into closing a door that heavy, and it drifts open again.
I hear her retching seconds later.
I stand in indecision for a moment before I go to her. She’s already suffered alone. Yeah, she’s probably isolated herself intentionally. She’d even say she prefers it this way. But under that tough-girl exterior is a woman who’s bruised and angry and deserves more. And now that I know the truth, I feel even more compelled to be close to her, help her.
In the dark bathroom, she’s on her knees in front of the toilet, gripping the side with one hand and holding her hair back with the other. There’s nothing in her stomach to vomit, so she heaves and gasps. Then I hear a sob that tears at my chest.
I can’t not go to her.
“Hey, it’s all right. I’m here.” Taking hold of her hair at her nape, I rub her back with a soothing palm.
