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“When he came to California to get me, he told me he’d live anywhere that I wanted to. And he would have, too, Moira. That’s what real love is.”
“If that’s what you want to believe.” I’ve known my brother for a lot longer than Harper has, and I know for a fact he would have hated every second of living in La La Land.
“What I believe is that your brother was willing to do something that went against his grain if that’s what it took for me to be happy. Love is caring for something bigger than just yourself. It’s compromise and growth.”
I glare at her profile and practically yell, “I do care about something bigger than myself. I care about my kids and my job and my extended family. Look, Harper …” I’m not sure continuing my thought is the best way to go, but I’m so worked up right now that I can’t seem to stop myself. “I’m sorry your husband cheated on you, but you’ve got to face it, your life was pretty cushy. I work my ass off at home and then I go into the diner and do the same thing. I don’t go shopping all day and have lunch with my friends while the nanny raises my kids.”
Harper slams on the brakes so hard, I have to put my hands out to keep from hitting my head on the dashboard. “Is that what you think of me? Because I’ll have you know I worked damn hard, and just because my kids had a nanny doesn’t mean I wasn’t there for them every day of their lives.”
“I guess …”
“You know what, Moira? You’re playing martyr and it’s not a good look on you. Get off the damn cross and see what’s in front of your face. Ethan loves you for you. It’s too bad you can’t do the same for him.”
“Wow, you’re really bitchy when you want to be,” I tell her.
“Takes one to know one.”
We ride the rest of the way to my house in an angry silence, and when she comes to a stop, Harper stares out the front window, not so much as deigning to glance in my direction.
I open the door handle to get out. The last thing said between us is from Harper. “Grow up, Moira, and quit playing the victim. I know your life hasn’t been easy, but here’s a newsflash: no one’s is.”
I slam the door so hard I’m not sure it’ll ever open.
Chapter42
Ethan
My parents had so much fun together while I was gone, they decided to take off and explore parts of Canada. Happily, that means they aren’t here to witness the sad state of their only son’s life.
The next few weeks pass slowly. I get up, go for long runs (the entire time torn between hoping I see Moira and praying I don’t), then return to the quiet of my cabin and do my best to forget the sad state of my personal life. Writing is secondary.
The evenings are excruciatingly long and lonely. I find myself sitting out on the deck, sipping beer and watching the sun go down over the lake. I wish I was reading the boys a chapter fromCaptain Underpants. I miss their laughter and their excitable energy. I miss everything about Moira, other than her insecurity that tore us apart.
I spend hours thinking through every detail of our time together in LA, wondering what I did that was wrong and wishing things had turned out the exact opposite of how they did.
I barely sleep and every meal I make is tasteless, even if it’s got bacon on it. Nothing pleases me. Harper texts me a lot, hoping I’ll come by for supper or just meet up to talk, but I’m pretending to be on such a roll with my writing that I have to keep going.Lies, all lies.
I’m currently standing in front of the fridge, trying to decide what to make for supper, when there’s a knock at the door. My first thought is that maybe it’s Moira, which causes my heart to pound wildly. Then I glance down, realizing I’m wearing ancient sweatpants and a stretched-out t-shirt.
Raking my hands through my hair, I hurry over to the door and pull it open, only to see Harper standing in front of me holding a brown paper bag. She breezes past me before I can invite her in. Setting the bag down on the kitchen counter, she says, “I figured you must need a real meal by now, since you’ve locked yourself up here, supposedly typing until your fingers bleed.” She looks down at my hands and cocks an eyebrow. Then she looks at my computer.
Damn. My laptop isn’t even open. “Thanks, that’s very kind of you.”
“More like kind of Digger and Jack. Spareribs, corn bread, mashed potatoes, salad, and a slice of wild blueberry pie.”
I walk over to the fridge to grab a beer, all the while continuing to avoid eye contact. No one knows me as well as Harper, so hiding my pain from her is going to be damn near impossible. “Beer?”
“No, thanks. I’m getting married in a few days; I don’t want to be bloated,” she says, settling herself onto one of the stools.
“That’s right, the big day is approaching,” I say, cracking the can open and offering her a bright smile. “You excited?”
“I’d be a lot more excited if my best friend and my future sister-in-law weren’t hell-bent on breaking each other’s hearts.” She gives me her best “mom glare.”
“What makes you think that?” I ask, doing my best to look casual.
“Because you’ve been avoiding the world for weeks and Moira’s walking around town with red, puffy eyes,” Harper says. “So don’t go telling me nothing happened and that you’re totally fine.”
Setting down the beer, I start pulling the food out of the bag, my stomach growling as the heavenly scents waft through the air. “Nothing did happen, and Iamtotally fine.”
