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“Hillary Mitchell’s son,” Piper says, a hint of disgust in her tone.
I feel hot anger rise up in me as I remember the way Hillary had tried to weasel her way onto Linc's arm the other night.
“That bitch!" I say. "I guarantee you she said those things about me in front of her son. Which is just gross, by the way. And he just repeated them to Ella. Though I don’t know why he would. I can’t believe this. Kids don’t deserve to be involved in adult drama.”
“I agree,” Piper says. “Which is why you’re going to let this whole thing go, right?”
“Does Hillary not realize that high school is over? No one cares that she was the prom queen 10 years ago.”
“She’s a petty, jealous bitch,” Piper says. “But you’re not going to let this bother you, right?”
I know I can’t control the actions of someone else’s child. But the fact that someone went out of their way to hurt Ella—all because I’m dating her father—makes me feel awful.
“What happened to Ella?” I ask. “With school?”
“She’s suspended for the rest of the week and has to write a letter of apology to the kid,” Piper says.
“Shit,” I say. “She was sticking up for me. And now she’s in trouble at school.”
“Harlow, wait,” Piper says. “This isn’t your fault.”
I know she’s technically right. I know that. But it doesn’t stop the guilt I feel.
"Yeah," I say. "I know. Thanks for telling me, Piper. I have a client. Gotta go."
"Wait," she says.
"I'll text you later. Bye."
I end the call take a seat in one of the chairs, pulling my knees up to my chest as I think over everything I just learned. One glaring fact keeps repeating in my mind. Linc didn't tell me.
Chapter 30
Harlow
I'm quiet all through dinner, smiling and nodding when necessary but not saying much. When Linc asks me what's wrong, I tell him I'm just tired from my long day at work. He doesn't press for more from me, which is good. I can't tell him how I feel about Ella being bullied because he didn't talk to me about the issue. I obviously don't expect him to include me in issues of parenting his daughter. We've only been together for a month, after all. But she's being teased about our relationship. About Linc being with me. Am I wrong to feel like he should talk to me about it? That we should discuss it with Ella and make sure she’s okay, together?
I'm not angry at him. Not really. I'm not exactly hurt either. I'm honestly not sure what I'm feeling right now. That's the hardest part of this whole thing. If anger was the right emotion, I could lash out or pick a fight. I could find some way to express what I'm feeling. But I'm not angry. I'm not hurt. I'm not anything. Except maybe sad.
I just know that for the first time since our first date I don't feel like we're in this together. And I hate the feeling. Even worse, I'm not totally surprised by it. That's the worst part of all of this. I've been telling myself that this thing with Linc is different. It doesn't feel like any other relationship I've had before. I'd started to hope that maybe this was the real thing. That thing I've been telling myself not to hope for. But now I wonder if I've only been imagining it. Maybe I'm the only one feeling this way. And if that's the case, I'm not sure I want to know. Not yet.
So, I keep quiet. And I don't pick a fight or force a conversation. I don't do anything that might push him to tell me he wants to end things. Because I want to keep him just a little longer. When we go to bed, I exaggerate my tiredness, rather than reach for him as I normally do. Instead, I turn my back to him in the bed and pretend to fall asleep. I'm not sure how long I lie there awake, wishing he'd wrap me in his arms and pull me back against his large body to hold me while we sleep. Instead, I listen to his even breathing while I feel my heart crack just a little.
The next morning, I manage to leave just after breakfast without Linc commenting on my odd behavior. I use the excuse of having an early client, but it's a lie. I don’t have any clients until the afternoon. I'm stalling. I hate lying to him, even about something so trivial. But I hate the idea of asking him to define what we are even more. I don’t want to hear him tell me he doesn’t feel what I feel. What do I feel? I shy away from that thought too. Wow. I’m such a coward I can’t even admit to myself how I feel about the man.
Rather than focus on the many ways I’m failing as a human, I decide to organize the stock room to keep my mind occupied. I spend an hour staring at bottles of toner and moving them around on the shelves without really accomplishing anything before I finally give up. I drop into one of the chairs in the back with a sigh. It’s no use. I can’t focus on work when I feel like my personal life is falling apart. It’s strange. I’ve had my personal life fall apart more times than I can count. I’ve been dumped and cheated on and dumped guys before. But I’ve never felt this lost and confused about it. I’ve never been this upset over a man. And Linc and I haven’t even broken up; we haven’t even had an argument. I drop my head into my hands. What the hell is wrong with me?
The bell rings out front signaling the arrival of a guest. I check the time. It’s too early for one of my appointments. Walk-ins are rare in Peach Tree, but not unheard of. Sitting up straight, I suck in a fortifying breath and paste what I hope is welcoming smile on my face before walking out to the front of the salon. When I see who’s standing there, my breath snags in my chest and I feel my stomach clench nervously. I recover almost immediately, but I’m not sure it was quick enough to fool Linc.
“Hey,” I say, walking toward him. “This is a surprise. Did you come for a trim?”
I try to make my voice sound flirty and light, but I can hear the strain in my words, and I think he can too. He gives me a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Fuck. This is it. This is the conversation I’d tried to avoid.
Linc shakes his head. “I don’t need a haircut,” he says. “I came to talk to you.”
I keep my smile in place, hoping I won’t do something foolish like cry or beg him to stop talking before he ruins what we have. He steps closer to me, his expression shifting to one of confusion.
“Is everything okay?” he asks. “You seemed a little off when you left this morning.”
