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EIGHTEEN

LUKE

Harper and I stay out later than I anticipated, and she’s asleep in the back seat by the time I pull into the driveway. I carry her to her room, tuck her in bed, and make sure she’s still sound asleep. I watch her for a minute. Her soft rhythmic breathing is a reassuring balm to my frayed nerves. It hurts to love someone so much, to have your exposed heart walking around on two legs all day.

I close the door slowly and head into the kitchen. Movement outside draws my attention, and I spot Chloe sitting on the edge of the pool with her skirt tucked up around her hips. Her feet dangle down into the water, bobbing back and forth. She’s got a beer beside her, and every now and then, she reaches down and grasps the neck of it so she can take a swig.

So I’m not alone then; we’re both wallowing. Ever since this morning, after our argument in the kitchen, I’ve been trying to endure gnawing guilt. I was worked up first thing when I went to Harper’s room and found her bed empty. The things that run through a parent’s mind in moments like that—they’re not always logical or sound. I panicked, and I’m not proud of how I handled myself.

So I kick off my shoes, grab another beer from the fridge, slide the back door open, and pad across the porch to join Chloe by the pool.

She doesn’t stir as I take a seat beside her. I dangle my feet in the water too and make sure my shorts are tugged up enough that they don’t get wet on the pool’s edge.

Neither of us says a word, each sipping beer in silence. I peer over at her from the corner of my eyes and see she’s really put a lot of effort into her appearance for tonight. A little bit of makeup, silky hair, cute outfit. So she went on that date.

I want to ask her about it. God, I could listen to every detail. Did he pick you up? Did he open your door? Did he make you laugh at dinner?

It’s painful to sit with unrequited feelings. That’s what this is now; there’s no point in denying it anymore. I want Chloe, and yet, I have to sit here and look at her like it’s not a searing kind of torture. The reflected pool lights dance across her face. She’s bathed in pale blue. I want her to look at me, but maybe it’s good that she doesn’t. I’d kiss her, and we’d really be in a shitstorm then.

“I owe you an apology,” she says, finally, her attention down on her thighs.

“No.” I’m heartbroken by the thought that she might have been beating herself up all day about what happened with Harper. “It’s the other way around. I didn’t mean to be hard on you like that.”

“You were acting on instinct, and you were worried about Harper,” she argues. “It probably scared you half to death to find her bed empty like that. I wasn’t thinking.”

I release a long exhale. “It’s so goddamn complicated. All of it. I’m not upset Harper has taken such a liking to you. I’m upset that I can’t seem to control this situation like I want to. I’m upset that life seems intent on throwing me curveball after curveball. Still, I shouldn’t have taken my anger out on you like that.”

Her brows shoot up, but she doesn’t say anything. How can she resist looking my way?

I give her another moment, then I can’t help but ask, “A lot on your mind?”

She smiles ruefully. “Like you wouldn’t believe.”

“That’s why you’re being quiet? Or you’re still upset with me?”

Her brown eyes finally drift over to me, and there’s sadness lurking there. “I was never upset with you. And for the record, I’m not sure I ever could be, but that’s beside the point…” She takes another long sip of her beer. “I’m quiet because I’m not supposed to be talking to you right now.”

Now that makes me laugh. It’s so out of left field.

“Why’s that?”

I swear to god, I’m on tenterhooks waiting to hear what she’s about to say.

“I’m setting boundaries. Keeping my private life private, my work life…work.”

“Oh, just like what I’ve been trying to do? Let me know how that works out for you.”

I take a drink and stare out at the pool as we sit in companionable silence. Two coworkers. I smile at the thought.

“Is this how it always is for you? With the nannies and stuff?”

She doesn’t have to explain what she means. I know exactly what she’s asking.

“No.”

She sighs in defeat, like she was hoping for a different answer.

“Maria’s been with us forever, and she’s in and out, not one for small talk. She’s good with Harper, but otherwise she’s focused on her own life. She has grandkids.”

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