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“I’m so sorry, Harley. I’m here now.”
I don’t even care why she’s here or what she really wants.
Because what I need right now more than anything is a mom.
16
GRANT
Iharden my gaze on Victoria’s mimosa, watching the champagne bubbles trembling in the glass. She’s going on and on about her latest job. Normally, I’m a good listener, but I’m distracted.
I haven’t heard from Harley. I landed yesterday and texted her right when we landed before the seatbelt sign was off. Yet…nothing.
I can’t say I’m surprised considering we were both acting strange at the end of our last phone call. Although wealwaysact strange at the end of our phone calls. God, I say that as if it’s a habit we’ve been in for months, not just a week.
While in London, I spent hours on the phone with Harley, somehow getting by on just a few hours of sleep each night in order to accommodate her work schedule. If that doesn’t mean I got it bad for her, I don’t know what does.
It was just so…easy. The back and forth, the rapport. It was hard to break the flow of our conversations. And, while I tried to remain on my best behavior, I couldn’t help throwing in a flirtation every now and then. Nothing crude, of course. No “What are you wearing?” or anything like that. Just little things to let her know I admire her. Which I do. With every fiber of my being. Mind, body, soul.
Harley Solace has totally enchanted me.
“…I don’t know, I think I need to talk to my lawyer about the contract,” Victoria says, picking under one of her long, manicured nails. “It might be Dior, but it’s practically slave labor.”
That joke is enough to get me back on track. Except for the night of the awards, I haven’t seen my sister in nearly a month, what with her traveling around the world for photoshoots and preparing for fashion week and me on my own hectic schedule. She deserves my undivided attention.
And yet, underneath it all, my heart burns for Harley.
“Fuck Dior,” I say. “You don’t need them.”
Victoria smiles and giggles, leaning on her elbows. We might be two of the most notable people in the world, but our upbringing still shines through. Elbows on the table and everything. “Well, we’ll see. I think I look really nice in the commercials. In fact, I actually had someone reach out to me through my agent who might beinterestedin me, if you catch my drift.”
“Vic, that’s great!”
She laughs. “When you hear who it is, you’ll be singing a different tune.”
I narrow my eyes, trying to imagine who it could be when it dons on me. “Ohno.”
“Flick–”
“Oh no.”
“—Harrison.”
I slam my fist on the table. The silverware clatters.
“Grant, please! It’s not that serious.”
“I didn’t mean for it to be that dramatic, I just–” I take a deep breath. “Flick Harrison might be the stupidest man on the planet. Doesn’t he get how last names work?”
Victoria shrugs. “Honestly, he just seems like the type of man who thinks with his dick. He probably saw a picture of me and doesn’t even know my last name.”
“You’re literally the biggest supermodel of the–”
She holds up her hand to stop me. “It doesn’t matter, Grant. It never matters with those kinds of guys.”
I sigh. Having a sister is full of moments like this. Seeing how genuinely unfairly women are treated, always wishing I could fight to make things better, knowing that she’s become so used to being treated like an object and resigned to that never changing. Lucky for me, Victoria has grown to be strong. Her “fuck you” attitude keeps her safe.
Still, though. I wish I could do more.
