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Harlow shrugs. “I just thought it was important to share what Noah and I have discussed and—”
“Sure,” he says dismissively, then turns to Chickman. “Like Noah explained to me, the wife is a great asset and a perfect front. Smart, lovely, educated. This marriage will keep the Mercedes Fleets of the world from being taken too seriously in the future, and Noah will use his utmost discretion with other women. Right, buddy?” He claps me on the shoulder. “She was a smart business move. Good choice.”
I drag in growling breaths of fury. Cliff is way out of line, making Harlow sound like a prop instead of the woman I’m going to love madly for the rest of my life. I’ve known Cliff for a decade. He doesn’t love anything except a smoking deal and he’d say anything to get one done. I can’t point that out now, but Harlow is smart. She’ll get it.
Still, I feel compelled to stop his shitty behavior.
“What the hell?” I manage to blurt out. More words are behind those, piling up in my throat, dammed by anxiety and anger.
“I’m just relaying what we discussed, Noah,” Cliff assures. “You promised me she’d be good for your image, and now I’m in total agreement. I’m sure Mr. Chickman is as well.”
“Absolutely.” The network executive winks my way.
“Well, since my work here is done and you boys don’t need me to conduct business, I’ll leave you to it.” Harlow smiles graciously and rises to her feet.
I grab her by the hand, swallow, force out one syllable. “Sit.”
“Don’t be silly. You get business done. Mr. Chickman has flown all the way to Maui from New York to talk to you. I’m sure he has a network to run and can’t be gone any longer than usual. I’ll take a taxi back to the house.”
“Harlow…”
“I’m fine.”
She’s not fine. Not remotely. I see it on her face. She handled Cliff’s snub and insult with grace, but her smile is as artificial as Chickman’s toupee. My agent is a hustler. She couldn’t possibly take his BS about her being an asset to cover up my affairs seriously.
“I’ll go with you.” I stand.
“Don’t be silly.” She shakes her head.
“My red-eye leaves in three hours,” the network executive states baldly. “We discuss this now or I’ll have to rescind the offer.”
“See?” Harlow says with a sparkling smile as she grabs her purse. “Lovely to see you, gentlemen. Good evening.”
I stand and take hold of her arm. Nothing on her face conveys that she’s upset or pissed off, but I sense something deeply wrong. “Baby?”
“Do what you need to. You’ve got this. I understand. Don’t worry.” A brittle wave later, she slips out of my grasp and exits.
I’m left staring after her, dread rolling through my gut. What, exactly, does she understand?
I’m not sure. In fact, I’m worried as hell. That woman wouldn’t have left my side when she knows I’m having verbal trouble unless something had gone horribly, terribly wrong.
“Noah, buddy…” Cliff stands and urges me back to my chair. “Mr. Chickman’s time is limited, and the little woman will be waiting for you back home. Why don’t you sit down so we can get everything ironed out?”
With a frown, I do. I don’t have a choice if I want to cover the sport I love come this fall. But as soon as I get home, I’ll talk everything out with Harlow. That will be enough. Right?
* * *
Sixty-five minutes later, I dash inside the front door, glad business is done for the night. I rushed dinner along and managed to give Chickman a promise that I’d make a splashy announcement in a few days with my exciting news. Let him interpret that however he wants.
“Harlow?” I shout from the entryway.
No answer.
Foreboding rolls through me as I glance around the dimly lit house. The pictures of little Jamie she stuck to the refrigerator the other day are gone. So are the random hair ties she usually leaves lying on the coffee table so she can get her hair out of her eyes for serious gaming.
Shit.
I try not to panic. She’s often tidy. She sometimes declutters randomly. Maybe she came home from the restaurant and decided to pick up a little.
