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The buds are attached to her phone. I take them both and slip them in my ears to give whatever she’s hearing a listen. I hear a few notes fading away, then dead air. With a frown, I try to open the playlist and start from the beginning, but it automatically repeats and I hear a woman’s voice. She prefaces whatever music is to follow.
“Hi, Harlow. It’s Keeley. I know you don’t want to talk. You’re like your big brother.” She gives a little laugh. “But sometimes we need help sorting out what’s in our heads, and you know music is my language. I made this CD of songs I picked for you. If you don’t need or want it, that’s fine. But if something I’ve found helps you to recover after what happened or makes you want to talk, I’m here for you, sweetie. Maxon and I send our love. You deserve the best, and Simon Butler wasn’t it. Anyway, I hope you enjoy.”
Her sister-in-law’s gentle if chipper voice trails off and the first song begins to play. It’s old. Retro. Beats sliding down a scale, then tambourines and drums. I’ve heard it. I just can’t place it right away. A woman starts singing about her lying, cheating boyfriend. It doesn’t click until she sings that her boots are made for walking.
I have to smile. I don’t know Keeley, but she’s definitely got this tune right. Harlow had every right to let her dainty boots trample her ex on her way out the door.
That song ends, then another begins, this one more upbeat. It’s definitely from a different era than the first. It’s not familiar, either, and when another woman starts singing, I’m thinking I need to catch up on my chick rock. As I listen to the lyrics, the song is all about telling a deadbeat lover to kiss off in a tone that says she’s not at all broken up about the split.
“‘Goodbye to You,’ huh?” I murmur. If Harlow had been singing this song, she would have called it “Eat Shit and Die.”
I listen as the end trails off. Both songs have been appropriate to her situation…but neither should have made her cry.
The next song is also unfamiliar. The intro sounds like a guitar of some sort in an uneven beat, almost a Caribbean-style rhythm. I hear another female vocalist, her voice one I’ve heard before. Rihanna, I think. She sings that she can pretend she’s not lonely but she’ll be lying to herself and she’d give every dime she possesses to have what she’s only been dreaming about. Is it possible Harlow feels that way secretly, deep down? Is there any chance she wants to be someone’s one and only but is too afraid to admit it?
The next track on the playlist is a bouncy Michael Bublé tune I’ve heard on the radio about not having met the right one yet. Keeley seems really determined that Harlow needs and wants love. Does Maxon’s wife know something about the woman in my house, who visits my bed, that I don’t? I’m struck by one line, where Bublé says he knows that someday someone will make him work so they can work to work it out.
Is that what I need to do with Harlow? She keeps objecting, but is that because she doesn’t really want me…or because she’s trying to gauge my staying power in a relationship?
Interesting questions. I need to talk to Keeley. And her brothers. Hell, maybe Britta has insight, too. I’m not even sure why Harlow has become my mission in life suddenly. Maybe I’m avoiding the speech issue, which I can’t fix, and focusing on the woman who I hope I can.
And maybe for the first time in my life I’m falling in love.
The catchy pop tune ends and another familiar song seeps into my ears. A Foreigner classic, a melody I’ve heard a thousand times. This is the one that made her cry. I recognize the notes now. Yes, in her life, there has been heartache and pain. Of course she has trouble knowing if she can face it again. I listen as the rest of the bridge slides into the chorus, Lou Gramm’s soulful voice rasping that he wants to know what love is, backed up by a large, harmonious choir. He also croons that he wants someone to show him.
The questions start rolling through my head once more, but I think I know what to do. I have to try with Harlow. Not just for her, not because I want to be the knight in shining armor who repairs the heart that someone—not her ex—broke. I feel good when I’m with her. Like I can be myself. Like she might always make me laugh. Like she’s always going to turn me on. Like I could be happy for the rest of my days with her by my side.
Am I crazy? Am I distracting myself from my own problems? Maybe…but I don’t think so.
When the song finally ends, I set her earbuds and phone on her nightstand. Her phone looks half-dead, so I plug it in with the cord dangling from the power strip on the floor. Then I stand in the dark and stare at her. I either need to be in or out. I either need to let her lick her wounds and work out her problems in her time and in her way or I need to be a force in her life that helps heal her. I can’t keep pushing her if I’m going to leave in the end. I have to make a decision here and now whether I’m just the guy she’s boffing for a few months until the real world comes calling again or if I’m going to find a way to make this woman trust me with her heart forever.
I know what my gut is telling me. Screaming at me. So instead of padding back into my room for a solid night of sleep, I take off every stitch I’m wearing and slide into bed beside Harlow. I curl my arm around her, doing my best not to jostle her. Then I plant my face in her neck so I can breathe in her scent and hope this is the first night of many I’ll spend beside her.
* * *
I approach Tuesday night with both anticipation and dread. Harlow’s family may have information I need but I’m sure they also have an agenda in mind. This dinner won’t be purely social. They’re going to examine and grill me, which would be fine if I knew for certain I’d be able to keep up my end of the conversation.
We park at her older brother’s place, and a quaint sign hangs in the front yard, proclaiming it theSunshine Coast Bed and Breakfast. A redhead in a golden sundress waits for us on the lanai, drink in hand. As we emerge from the car, a petite blonde sidles up beside her in a killer black dress. Harlow’s brothers shuffle out after them, deep in conversation. Maxon parks himself behind the redhead and drops a kiss on the top of her head. She must be Keeley, which means the blonde is Britta. Sure enough, Griff cups the dainty woman’s shoulders and whispers something in her ear that makes her smile secretively.
After I shut the car door behind me, I’m keenly aware of her brothers staring at me. I grab Harlow’s hand.
“Advertising that we’re having a fling? After last Friday morning, I think they know.”
“No, I’m borrowing courage. Your brothers don’t like me much.”
“They just don’t know you.”
True. “But when I talk to them, I tend to lose my verbal ability. So this could be a really long evening.”
Harlow turns to me, a little frown working between her brows. “I wasn’t even thinking about you being anxious. I’m sorry.” She squeezes my hand tighter. “I’m here for you. And look, no matter what they threaten, they can’t kill and eat you.”
I know she’s right; they can’tdoanything to me. But if I want Harlow in my life for more than a few weeks, I’ll have to deal with Maxon and Griff. Hell, I admit it; I want them to like me. I’d even settle for them tolerating me. If they hate me outright, their opinion might rub off on Harlow and make our already unsteady relationship even more rocky.
“I wouldn’t be surprised if they want to,” I grouse.
“They also want to rule the world, ambitious bastards.”
“Stay with me tonight, will you? Just in case I…”
