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Keeley nods and gives him a business card with the details about their bed-and-breakfast. “If you need an ear or a song or a homemade cookie, stop by. There’s always someone there.”
“Britta and I would love to have you for dinner some night so you can meet your nephew. Jamie is nearly three.”
“And he’s all boy!” Britta teases. “Really, please come over.”
“We’re also looking forward to having you at our wedding,” Harlow adds. “I’ll text you the details. We’re getting married too quickly for invitations, so that will be the ‘formal’ invite.”
Evan takes a deep breath, looking overwhelmed but more at peace. “Thank you. Becca was right. I should have gone out of my way to meet you all sooner. I appreciate all your kindness and hospitality. I know it’s odd to suddenly incorporate me into your family…but I’d like that very much.”
With those words and a reserved nod, he departs, leaving us all in somber silence.
* * *
After the family heads home, Harlow is unusually quiet. She doesn’t argue or twist away when I enfold her into my arms and pull her to bed with me. Though there’s no one else in the house—or within a mile radius—she whispers to me. How sad she feels for Evan, how angry she is for thinking of herself while her brothers and their wives shared their baby news. Then she confesses how directionless she was feeling until she met me. From her, that’s high praise, almost as if she’s admitting that she needs me. I listen, murmuring my sympathy for all her half brother has lost and assuring her that she’s being too hard on herself. Her feelings are real, and it’s better to admit them and deal than to shove them down as if they never existed. Makuahine taught me that—or tried. The knowledge usually serves me well.
I fall asleep cocooned in deep contentment. I’m getting through the concrete around Harlow’s heart…I think.
Either sleep did her a world of good or she’s putting on a hell of a front this morning, because she’s so chipper it almost makes my teeth hurt.
“Here’s your green tea, sleeping beauty.” She sets a mug on my nightstand, looking too beautiful for a woman who’s probably been awake less than fifteen minutes. Her inky hair tousles around her slender frame, wrapped in a silky pink robe that ends at mid-thigh and reminds me why I think she has some of the most gorgeous legs I’ve ever felt wrapped around me.
I grumble, glancing dubiously at the mug. “There’s not enough caffeine in that to wake up a gnat.”
“I expected you to be grouchy. The first few days will be rough. I have all kinds of ways to help you cope. I’ve been doing a lot of research and I’ve learned so many awesome tricks. We’ll get through this. Up! Time to get started.”
With a groan, I close my eyes. “Aren’t you getting together with my mother to talk about your wedding dress?”
“Not until two this afternoon. It’s only eight now. So we have hours to figure out what relaxes you.”
Oh, goodie.
“Sex?” I suggest.
“We’ll get there. But I’d like to give some of these other methods a spin, see what works for you when you’re alone, because I won’t be in the broadcasting booth with you. And if I was, the NFL would get NC-17 fast.”
She has a point.
With a sigh, I stumble to my feet. “I’m not fond of you right now.”
Harlow laughs. “I’m sure you’ll get over it. And if not…” She shrugs. “Well, you won’t be the first person to dislike me. Is this the first time you’re realizing I’m a morning person?”
I knew, but this seems like cruel and unusual punishment when I can’t have coffee. “Ugh. Can you tone your smile down just a bit? It’s blinding me.”
My teasing makes her smile brighter. “Nope. Sexy ass up! Let’s go. Hey, at least I’m not talking about PT. Yet.”
“I’d prefer that.” Because with Harlow’s unpredictability, I never know what she’ll do next.
“Ha! I’ll remind you of that later. Drink your tea, toss on some comfy clothes, and get moving.”
Grumbling, I put on a pair of gym shorts and a wife-beater. She’s already opened the doors in the bedroom to the Pacific. It’s going to be another beautiful day in paradise.
“You know, I’d be more relaxed after another hour or two of sleep.”
She shakes her head. “First, you don’t have any time to waste. Doesn’t the network want an answer?”
They do, and she knows it. “Secondly?”
“If we’re going to have a baby, buster, he or she won’t give a shit when you want somez’s. If we get pregnant quickly enough, you’ll be able to help me through the first few weeks at least. Two a.m. feedings, colic, days and nights reversed… All the fun stuff.”
