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“God, you look gorgeous,” Harris said that evening when they met outside his parents’ front door. “Why don’t we ditch this and just head back to my place for some fun?”
His words were lighthearted, but his eyes and smile were strained. Tina tilted her head as she assessed him.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, and he thrust his hands into his jacket pockets. He was wearing a business suit, and she wondered if he had gone into the office after all.
“It’s nothing,” he said, his voice gruff with suppressed emotion.
“It’s not nothing at all. Something happened. Tell me!” she demanded, reaching over to grip his forearm urgently. “Is it Greyson? Did you guys have an argument?”
Harris shook his head, looking conflicted.
“Smith.”
Ah. Of course. The youngest of her brothers hadn’t returned any of her messages or answered her calls today, and she knew he needed time to process. She had, however, received separate calls from Kyle, Conrad, and Dumi, all asking if she needed Harris’s ass kicked. Touched by their concern though she was, she had kindly declined their offers. She knew her older brothers had been outraged on her behalf, but to Smith, it had also been the betrayal of a friend. Of a man he considered another brother.
“He’ll come around,” Tina said, her voice riddled with doubt.
“You don’t believe that any more than I do, Bean,” Harris said with a half-hearted smile. She put a sympathetic hand on his chest and felt the outline of the pendant nestled between his pecs.
“You’re wearing it,” she said, changing the subject. “Good.”
“I shouldn’t,” he said with a bitter shake of his head. “I don’t deserve it.”
“Stop that,” she remonstrated, her hand traveling up to his clenched jaw. “Stop. It’s yours. It’s back where it belongs.”
He tipped his head toward her hand, his eyes shutting tightly as he nuzzled against her palm.
“I wish I knew . . . ,” he began, but he was interrupted when the door swung inward. The Chapmans’ maid stood blinking at them in shock, her mouth forming an O of surprise.
“Oh. I’m sorry,” she said. “Only, Mrs. Chapman heard cars come up the drive a while ago, but when there was no knock she sent me to check if—”
“That’s okay, Clementine,” Harris said, stepping away from Tina. Her hand hung suspended for a moment before she dropped it self-consciously to her side. “We were just having a conversation. After you, Tina.”
He stepped aside and ushered Tina into the house. The maid scampered away without another word. But Tina barely noticed the woman’s disappearance, instead stopping to look around the grand entrance hall of the Chapman home. The place hadn’t changed much since she had been there last. She hadn’t willingly set foot in the house since that long-ago night. Avoiding—to her parents’ dismay—any and all events the Chapmans had hosted after that.
Memories of that night bombarded her. The excitement and giddy elation when Harris had finally seemed to notice her. And the sickening aftermath: all that teenage adoration and devotion doused in an awful instant of horror, pain, and devastation.
Harris stared down at her in concern before seeming to register the reason for her hesitation.
“Shit. Tina . . .” His voice was riddled with guilt and regret, and Tina didn’t want all those negative emotions to surface again.
“It’s okay, Harris,” she said, offering him a tight smile. “I just . . . haven’t been here in a while, that’s all.”
“We can leave.”
“We’re here now; leaving would be rude. Let’s go and say hi to your parents.” She took a confident step toward the living room, where she knew the Chapmans liked to enjoy a civilized predinner drink.
Harris should have known coming here would be hard on her. He was an insensitive prick. All these years, and Tina had never once come back to this house. After she had returned from Scotland, Libby had visited her at the Jenson home. And Harris had only seen her at her family’s events.
Now here she was, her self-assured stride pausing only once, when she stopped and waited for him to catch up with her.
“You look like a man on his way to face a firing squad,” she teased, and he forced himself to smile. “It can’t get any worse than the messed-up Jenson family dinner last night.”
“I think my mother would die if anything that dramatic ever happened at our dinners.” Harris chuckled. “Dad would probably enjoy it—I swear he looks bored to death since his retirement.”
Constance and Truman Chapman both seemed puzzled to see Tina show up for dinner with Harris, but they hid it well. They also looked disconcerted by Harris’s impressive shiner but appeared to accept his explanation that he’d banged his head at the gym.
The older couple was too proper and polite to ever react with anything so vulgar as horror or shock. Tina was always amazed that Harris came from this family. He had a ready smile and a wicked sense of humor. He wasn’t afraid to show emotion, good or bad.
