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I shake my head. “Please don't feel bad. You shouldn't.” I knew this would happen. I don’t want her to feel guilty, but I suppose I’d feel the same way if I were her.
Her brows furrow with worry. “I left you alone. I should have stayed, but in typical Harper style, I got carried away with a guy.” She rolls her eyes at herself.
I knew she was going to say that, too. “I should have just stayed at the booth. If I had, nothing would've happened.”
“Sure, but you probably thought I was going to stay with the bartender all night.”
I grit my teeth. “Yeah, I kind of did. I just didn’t want to get stuck by myself.”
She dips her head for a moment, and I know she’s thinking about Avery because she wouldn’t have done that.
“I was going to come back, but you weren’t to know that. I realized you were leaving when I looked up at the booth and didn’t see you.” She brings her hands together. “I spotted you in the corridor through the two-way mirror, but I wasn’t near the entrance. When I eventually got there, I heard you scream. I’m so sorry, Serenity.”
“Please, stop apologizing. I'm fine.”
She grimaces. “There’s no way you can be fine. You were attacked.”
I’m so used to telling people I’m fine that I don’t know lies from truth. That’s what happens to you when you know you’ll never befineagain. Right now, I'm not exactly okay, but I'll live.
“I’m trying not to think about it.” I shift my weight and glance out the window as the curtains blow out on either side. It’s just started raining, and the wind has picked up.
“How are you feeling?” she asks.
“Still shaken.” No one's ever hit me before. I touch my cheek, feeling over the bruise. The swelling has gone down a lot, and it doesn't hurt as much as it did last night, but the skin is still tender. A reminder of what could have happened.
“That guy was drunk out of his mind.” Harper takes my hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. “He was a complete shithead who ruined the night. When you were dancing, you looked like you were having so much fun.”
“I was.” My voice holds the sentiment of the good parts of last night.
She gives me a soft smile. “I hadn’t seen you look like that in forever, so I thought I'd try something different to give you the confidence you needed.”
“It was fun while it lasted.”
“Come on, sit and eat. At least I made good food.”
My spirits lift. “Thank you so much for doing this.”
“It’s the least. Come.” She ushers me to sit at the head of the table, then she saunters away to fix up the pancakes.
She serves me one with chocolate spread and dashes of blueberries, strawberries, and raspberries. Then the two of us eat the pancakes first then dive in headfirst to devour the rest of the food.
As I'm finishing up the last slice of French toast, Harper looks at me with the same mischief that danced in her eyes last night before things went south.
Instantly, I know she's going to ask me the question she's been dying to ask.
“So,” she begins as if on cue, her eyes brightening, “now that you're feeling a little better, and we've gotten the horrible nitty gritty out of the way, can we please talk about the handsome man who saved you?”
At the mention of him, I can't resist the smile that tugs on my lips.
“I'm just so glad he got there in time,” I say, but of course, I know that’s not what she’s talking about.
“He swooped in to rescue you and gave you the five-star treatment after.” She wiggles her brows seductively.
“And I never got to say thanks.” I sigh. It only hit me long after I reached home that I never thanked him for his help.
“I'm sure he didn't mind. Did you see the way he looked at you?”
I smile wider. “Harper, the man was probably just concerned about me.”
