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To my surprise, dinner isn’t awkward at all. As concerned as I’d been about Cole and his big mouth, having him here helped dispel some of the awkwardness. The glass of wine also didn’t hurt. Cole keeps the conversation going, asking Harlow about her salon and the repairs we’ve been making. I love watching her face light up when she talks about her work. It’s so clear that she loves what she does. It makes me feel that much better to be helping her.
Plus, she seems to love my cooking. She raved about dinner so much I was starting to think she just did it to make me feel good. But she did eat two helpings, so maybe she really did love it. When we finish eating, Cole starts cleaning up the dinner dishes.
“I’ve got this,” he says when Harlow offers to help him. “You two go relax in the living room. Let me clean up.”
Harlow hesitates, looking to me for what to do. I nod and gesture toward the living room. “Take a seat. I’ll grab us another glass of wine?”
She nods. “I’d like that.”
I quickly refill our glasses while steadfastly ignoring my brother who’s making kissing noises over near the sink. I shoot him a death glare before turning to leave the kitchen. When I enter the living room, I find Harlow standing near one wall as she looks at the framed photos there. She turns to smile at me as I approach.
“Thanks,” she says, taking the glass of wine. She gestures toward one of the photos. “Where was that taken?”
I look at the photo she indicated. It’s of me and Ella when she was 4 years old. We’re at the beach and she’s passed out on my shoulder while I sit in a beach chair under an umbrella. Cole had snapped the photo with his phone when I wasn’t paying attention. I don’t even really remember that moment. It’s one of dozens of similar moments we’ve had over the years.
I smile. “That was taken during a beach vacation Cole and I took Ella on one year. It was really just for a weekend. I don’t think I could afford much more back then. Ella loved the beach, but the sun and the waves wore her out within an hour or two and she ended up falling asleep on me.”
“It’s a great picture,” she says softly. “The way you’re looking at Ella while she sleeps is my favorite part. If love could be photographed, it’s in that photo.”
I turn to look at her, surprised that she somehow put into words my own thoughts. “I never realized that, but I think it’s why I love that picture too,” I say.
She smiles and takes a sip of wine as we make our way over to the couch to sit. I take the seat next to her, but I leave a few inches between us so we’re not too close.
“Well, anyone can see how much you love her,” Harlow says. “You’re a good dad, Linc. I just hate that my salon is keeping you away from your daughter every evening.”
“Stop,” I say. “You’re not keeping me from anything. If working on the salon was a burden, I’d tell you. But Ella isn’t being neglected. I see her every night before bed and every morning before school. And I try to make up for lost time on my days off. Stop thinking you’re a problem. I want to help.”
“Why?” she asks. “Why do you want to help me, I mean. And don’t say you’re just helping a friend. I know you’re a nice guy, but it’s not like we’ve ever been that close. You barely know me.”
I sigh, suddenly annoyed by her saying that again. She thinks I barely know her. Of course, she thinks that. It’s not like we ran in the same circles in high school. And we haven’t exactly hung out since graduating nearly a decade ago. It’s only been since she and Piper became friends that I’ve started seeing her with any regularity. But the idea that she thinks I don’t know her irks me. I know more about her than she thinks. I realize that I want to prove her wrong. Before I can consider the consequences, I speak.
“You were first chair clarinet in marching band our senior year,” I say, keeping my gaze on her. “You were at every one of our football games, rain or shine. You came to prom by yourself, which I thought was really brave, though it surprised me. Your volcano won second place in the fifth-grade science fair and your mom grew the biggest roses in the county. She used to enter them in the county fair, and she won every year.”
Harlow goes still, eyes wide. But I’m not quite finished.
“You hate salt and vinegar chips, but love dill pickles on your burger. You don’t eat ketchup on your fries, and you prefer bourbon over tequila. You were the smartest girl in our graduating class. You should have been valedictorian, but you kept to yourself and never went out of your way to be noticed. Which is a damned shame because I’ve always thought you deserved better than this town gave you. You love it when it rains, but not when it storms. You’re a cat person. Which I don’t understand, by the way. Dogs are far superior. And you drink strawberry milkshakes whenever you have a really bad day. We may not talk all that much, Harlow. But I do know you.”
I close my mouth, surprised by my own outburst. I hope I didn’t just reveal how much I’ve been paying attention to her over the past twenty years. I don’t need her to analyze my words and figure out just how long I’ve been crushing on her. Not that it matters. She’s just a friend. Besides, I’ve got a business to run and a daughter to raise. I don’t have time to have a crush on anyone.
Harlow is looking at me, her eyes wide. “Linc,” she whispers. “I—"
“Daddy!”
I pull my gaze away from Harlow to look over at Ella where she’s standing near the doorway to the living room in her nightgown. I clear my throat.
“What is it, El?” I ask, grateful for the interruption.
She walks over to me, holding a hairbrush. I smile and gesture for her to come over and climb into my lap like she does every night when it’s time to brush her hair. She walks across the room and stops in front of me. But instead of climbing into my lap, she turns to look at Harlow.
“Can you do it?” she asks, her voice full of hope.
Harlow hesitates for only a second before a brilliant smile lights up her face.
“Of course, I can,” she says.
Without missing a beat, Ella climbs up and sits on Harlow’s lap. I can tell Harlow wasn’t expecting that, but she doesn’t make a comment. She catches my eye and smiles at my questioning expression. I’m trying to ask her if she’s okay with this, but she seems to understand and gives me a little nod before reaching a hand out to take the brush Ella offers her.
“You know,” Harlow says as she begins to work the brush through Ella’s hair. “Curly hair is a lot different from straight hair.”
