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Yep, definitely runs in the family.
“They said putting up with your parents was no picnic, either,” I say experimentally.
Harlow fidgets in her seat. “No one ever accused Barclay and Linda of being a barrel of fun.”
“So your mom was too involved and self-absorbed?”
“Pretty much. She wasn’tallterrible, but as I got older I became aware that a lot of the nice things she did with and for me were for show.”
I nod slowly and study Harlow to gauge her reaction to my next words. “What about your dad? You barely mention him.”
Her entire body tightens for a moment. It’s subtle but unmistakable. “There was a time I wanted to be a daddy’s girl, like some of my friends. Then I realized that he was only interested in cultivating the Reed offspring with dangling penises. Apparently, brains reside there, not the skull—silly me—so my dad didn’t think a little girl served much purpose in his life.”
And his dismissive indifference had hurt. Harlow doesn’t admit that, of course, but I see it in the press of her lips and the way she avoids my gaze. Has her father’s attitude colored her relationships with all men?
“But he wanted you to marry Simon to help him?”
“Yeah.”
No expounding on the topic. No saucy comeback. Just a flat statement of fact.
That isn’t like Harlow. I’m rapidly learning with this woman that I should listen to what she says, but pay even more attention to what she doesn’t—and won’t. This conversation tells me I need to dig deeper into her relationship with her father.
“He sounds like a real bastard,” I remark.
“Pretty much. My brothers were shaping up just like him. I’m really happy they’re settled and seem so ecstatic with their lives now.” She smiles sincerely. “And I’m thrilled that you didn’t have a verbal issue all night. You felt relaxed and in control?”
More like really determined.
I can’t miss her subtle shift in subject. I have to give Harlow credit; she’s good.
“Enough to keep the conversation flowing,” I remark. “It helped that your brothers weren’t terrible to me.”
“Since we’re talking about Maxon and Griff, you should take that as a gift.”
I am. But something else they said stuck out, something that’s been playing over and over in my head.Once we figured out this love thing is real… Why would they think it wasn’t? Okay, so their parents have a shitty, dysfunctional relationship that’s ending but that can’t be the whole story.
“How do you feel about your parents divorcing?”
“It’s about time. They’ve separated a few times over the years, and I hoped they’d put everyone out of their misery, but then my mom would always run out of money and come crawling home.”
“And your dad took her back in?”
“Totally. He relished those days. He rubbed her nose in the fact that he had the power. He enjoyed using it against her for weeks, sometimes months.” She clasps her hands in her lap, fidgeting.
I’m poking at the edges of her comfort zone again. “Do you think they ever loved each other?”
She scoffs cynically. “I don’t think they believe in love.”
That would explain a lot. “Do you?”
Instead of a flippant reply, Harlow takes her time answering. “I think it exists. I mean, I look at my brothers. I would never have thought they’d meet women who could make them better men and completely change their hearts. It wasn’t easy, that’s for sure. But they made it work, and the only reason I can imagine either of them conquered their fears and got over their shit was because they fell in love. The kind that doesn’t end. The kind worth fighting for. I’m really happy for them.”
“What about you?”
“Me?” She laughs. “I’m not wired for love, Weston. My heart doesn’t work that way.”
But she wants a baby because she wants someone to love? I’m guessing she doesn’t see the fallacy of her argument, and I’m not going to tango with her stubborn will now to point it out. My guess is she’s never experienced romantic love and after watching her parents tear each other up, she’s afraid of it. Simon Butler did zero to help the cause.
