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Our eyes lock for a moment before I’m swept off to my apartment alone.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Harrison
I swing open the door to my home to find my youngest sister standing on the stoop. Alone.
I glance past her to the street below, noting the dark SUV idling by the curb and the man standing next to it.
“Mom asked Donald to drop me off,” Roxy informs me. “Her flight was canceled, so she had to rush to catch an earlier one.”
“A heads-up would have been nice.” I raise a hand in greeting to one of my mom’s oldest and dearest friends. “Hey, Donald!”
He tosses me a wave back.
“My suitcase is heavy,” Roxy complains. “I packed almost all of my clothes in there.”
I wrap a hand around the handle and pick it up with ease.
She trots past me with two stuffed animals in her hands. “You need to go get Mr. Greenface from Donald’s car. He’s scared to touch him.”
I take a step into the foyer and drop the suitcase. “How did Mr. Greenface get into the car then?”
She shoots me that ‘you’re-an-idiot-look’ I’ve grown fond of. “Ryden put him in there.”
“Ryden put him in there?” I repeat.
“That’s what I said.” She drops to her knees to unzip one of the front compartments of her suitcase.
“He’s back in Manhattan?”
“Uh-huh,” she says absentmindedly.
Another heads-up for the return of my brother would have been nice, but apparently, our mother lost my number in her haste to bag a new husband.
I skirt around my sister and head out of the open doorway. “I’ll grab the lizard.”
“Don’t call him that to his face.” She wags a finger at me. “He doesn’t know he’s a lizard. Call him Mr. Greenface. That makes him happy.”
Holding in a laugh, I race down the concrete steps to where Donald is still standing.
He opens the back passenger door to reveal a large aquarium and a bag containing everything I’ll need to care for my sister’s pet for the next ten days.
“Good luck with this, Harrison.” Donald grins. “Between this and little Miss Roxy, you’ll have your hands full.”
“If you’d just ask Ramona to marry you, I wouldn’t have to deal with any of this.”
He shakes his head. “Been there and done that three times, my boy. My old heart can’t stand to be broken again.”
Donald and my mother belong together, but she can’t see that.
To her, he’s her loyal friend, but to him, she’s the only woman he’s ever loved.
I reach in and scoop the bag’s handle over my arm before I gingerly grab the aquarium. “Thanks for giving Roxy a lift.”
He pats the center of my back. “You know my number if you need help this week. I’m always here for all of you.”
All of us.
That includes my brother.
The fact that Ryden snuck back into New York City without a word to me shouldn’t be surprising. I expect that from him, but sooner or later, I know I’ll find him on my doorstep.
“Wiley said you brought a princess to the bar the other night,” Donald says as he slams the car door shut. “I’d love to meet her.”
His friendship with Wiley was cemented one night when I took Donald out for a drink. They hit it off immediately when they reminisced about a night years ago when the New York Yankees took the pendant and won the World Series.
“She’s the sister of a friend,” I describe Ava in the most neutral way I can.
He glances at Mr. Greenface before he levels his gaze back on my face. “And that means what? That you’re not interested in her that way?”
The emphasis that he puts on the last two words makes me chuckle.
I can’t tell him I’m interested in Ava in every possible way. I’ve spent the past few days trying to convince myself otherwise.
“I need to get this guy to his owner.” I tilt my chin down. “Thanks again, Donald.”
“Anytime, Harrison.” He rests a hand on my shoulder. “If you’re in the mood for another drink with your friend’s sister and you need someone to mind Roxy and the lizard, let me know.”
“We’re not supposed to call him a lizard to his face.” I smile. “I need to run.”
I do need to run – away from what I felt when I kissed Ava and away from the thoughts that have been repeating on a non-stop loop in my mind since that night.
“I can’t wait to go to Sean and Callie’s for dinner tonight!” Roxy shouts as she comes hopping down the stairs on Saturday morning.
A stuffed monkey is hanging around her neck. The daisy-printed pajamas she’s wearing are stained with red spots down the front.
Panic races through me as I sprint toward her. “What happened? Did you have a bleeding nose overnight?”
I tilt her chin up and examine her nose, but there’s no evidence of a nosebleed. My hands dive into her hair, twisting the strands so I can look at her scalp. “Did you hit your head?”
