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“After we hung up, my father called Jeremy, full of plastic outrage and demanding to know if my boss intended to ‘do the right thing.’ Jeremy was furious. The second I arrived at work, he ordered me into his office, called me a manipulative whore for trying to trap him, and fired me. I left in tears. And I never saw him again.” She drags in a breath as if she needs the courage to continue. “I quit school and transferred to a campus closer to home. I’d barely walked in the door when my father started in on me. Apparently, I was a stupid bitch because I couldn’t even manage to make Jeremy fall in lust with my pussy long enough to get the deal done. Two days later, I miscarried.”
Fury roils and bubbles inside me. I should never have let that bastard leave our wedding reception alive.
But right now, Harlow needs me more than I need to right her wrongs.
“Listen to me. Your father took advantage of you. He’s a sociopathic bastard who doesn’t deserve a daughter as wonderful as you. You’re funny and beautiful and so smart.”
“Not smart enough. I let him manipulate me twice. Simon was his idea. I’d already decided not to go through with the wedding. I was only staying around long enough to let the video play so all of our guests would know exactly why I was running back down the aisle. As my father and I lined up at the back of the ballroom, he said he’d talked to Simon about my desire for a baby and that I should ignore my fiancé and stay off the pill. After all, the placebos he’d gotten me in college had very nearly done the trick. They would have if I’d just been a little better in the sack.”
Shock pings through me. Who does that to their own daughter? The kind of man who sees her as nothing more than a bargaining chip in a quest to pad his bank account. Rage grips my throat, squeezes my chest. Death is too good for that man.
Then I realize what she’s saying to me. “You were never a business deal to me. Ever.”
She shrugs. “You’re probably telling me the truth, and I may very well wake up one day and regret this. But I’m not ready for unconditional trust. I don’t know when I will be. At least I leave understanding so much more about what love really means and with a baby finally on the way. I’m so much better for having known you. You’ll have moved on before I’m whole enough to think about love again. I hope you find the woman who’s worthy of you, Noah Weston. You deserve the best.”
With an apology on her face, Harlow turns to go. My heart crashes against my ribs as I grab her wrists and tug her against me. “I have the best, damn it. I have the most amazing wife in the world. Don’t go. Please.”
As I seize her mouth in a crushing kiss, I feel the wetness on her cheeks. Harlow is breaking both our hearts because she’s so afraid to believe in love, so afraid she’ll wind up used and alone.
I clutch her, push my way into her mouth, and kiss her like I’m never letting go. She’s everything to touch, to taste. When I dig my fingers into her hair, I do it with a silent plea to stay and believe in herself. To believe in our love.
Her body shudders as she kisses me in return and clings to me for a terrible, wonderful second. Then she steps back with a shake of her head and teary eyes that confess leaving me is destroying her.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I love you.”
She tears the ring off her finger and lays it on my nightstand before whirling around to disappear, feet thudding as she runs down the stairs.
I chase after her. “Harlow!”
The front door slams. By the time I yank it open again and follow her into the dark night, I’m too late. Griff is driving her away with a grimace and a wave of apology.
I’m left in the driveway as I watch the taillights disappear, worrying I made the biggest mistake of my life by staying at that dinner tonight and wondering if I’ll ever hold my wife again.
The last forty-eight hours have been an absolute daze. Harlow is gone. I keep turning around and expecting to see her glued to her video game or dancing as she preps a meal in the kitchen or scanning some textbook for clues about how to help my speech-anxiety screw-ups. But I find her gone every time, and the realization that she left flattens me all over again. The bed feels fucking empty. I’ve taken to sleeping on one of the sofas downstairs because I can’t be in the space where I once made love to Harlow without needing her again.
I’ve called. I’ve apologized. I’ve explained. But my wife isn’t blaming me. She’s blaming herself. How do I fix that?
Maxon came by my place yesterday to have a drink and a chat. He doesn’t know what happened or where Harlow’s head is, but he knows she’s torn up. Griff called this morning to gently troll for information. I didn’t tell either of them much. This is something my wife and I have to work out together.
With every hour that drags by, I wonder if that’s possible.
“I don’t want to pry,” Griff said in all sincerity when he rang. “But I’ve never heard my sister cry herself to sleep. She won’t say what happened, just that you two didn’t fight and it’s not your fault.”
My options to help Harlow process are limited. I refuse to do something lame, like send her flowers. She might appreciate them for two seconds, but they won’t heal what hurts her. I’m not entirely sure what will, except maybe time, but that’s unacceptable. I don’t want to spend another moment without her. Maxon and Griff both seem to have overcome somewhat rocky upbringings with those selfish pieces of shit who raised them. Maybe…Harlow needs to talk to people who share her common experience, who have walked through the fire and come out whole in spite of it.
“Can I ask you a personal question?” I finally said to him.
“Shoot.”
“Did your parents do something terrible to you growing up?”
The silence on the other end of the line speaks far louder than if Griff had shouted. I hear him swallow, struggle to answer. “Harlow has things to work past, too?”
Boy, does she ever. “Yeah. What about Maxon?”
“He hasn’t said a lot, but based on what I know and what I’ve observed, it’s a fair guess.”
But as close as the brothers were, neither knew the trials the other had endured? Maxon and Griff are in a better place now, sure. They’ve embraced love and moved on with their lives. I think Harlow could tip either way…but she’ll err on the side of caution—and loneliness—unless someone gives her a shove in the other direction.
