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Wade
Harlow takesthe bag from my arms and starts walking toward the house with my mother. I could have kissed her for real right then.
I watch, kind of awed as she coos over the flowerbeds like she didn’t just swoop in and stake her claim like a champ.
After a beat, I swallow and turn to face Kelsey.
She’s a sweet girl, a friend as close as family since we were fifteen, a permanent fixture in my home from two years after that. I care about her. I do. But the longing in her eyes when she pulled up is the reason behind the dread gnawing at my gut every time I think about coming home.
She’s not over it.
She’s still waiting.
And Christ, I don’t want to have this conversation again. I don’t want to have to see her tears or hold her hand. And selfish asshole that I am, I don’t want the guilt that goes along with her brave, stricken eyes chewing at me from the inside out every time our paths cross for the duration of our stay.
“I was surprised when your mom said you were bringing someone to the wedding.” She gives me a smile packed with so much baggage I feel kind of sick. “She’s not in any of your social. This is pretty new?”
I give her the smile I save for interviews after a loss. The one I don’t fucking mean but gotta sell anyway. “Yes and no. She’s pretty private, so we haven’t been posting.”
I grab the last couple of bags and Kelsey closes the car up.
We’re halfway to the house when she stops. “You never bring dates home.”
The front door is close, but only a dick would keep walking.
“I guess I don’t.” For a long time, it was because I was trying to be sensitive to Kelsey. Not make things any harder than they had to be. But after all the years, all the conversations laying it out in no uncertain terms—I don’t feel that way about her—it was time for something else.
“Harlow’s different.” And because I really want this to be the last of the conversation, I add, “She’s special.”
Kelsey blinks, her next breath drawing her chin higher, spine straighter. Strong, even when it hurts.
Fuck.
“I’m happy for you.”
She’s not. But maybe someday she will be.
Inside, Dad and I help put the groceries away while my mom waves Harlow and Janie over to the kitchen table, telling them to ignore the mess of tule-trimmed notepads and sparkly binders littering the surface. Walt is on the phone with a couple of the guys he’s got flying in for the bachelor party tomorrow night, and Kelsey’s making tea.
“We’re so glad you could join us this week, Harlow,” Mom says, taking the eggs from my dad to load into the fridge. “I’ll try not to smother you, but it’s so rare Wade brings anyone home. I’m excited to get to know you.”
“I’ve been looking forward to meeting you too.”
For about the last three hours.
I close the pantry door and move into the space behind Harlow. “Yeah, but Mom, try not to run her off with seven million questions and some endless tour of photo albums, please.”
Harlow’s brows pop. “Don’t listen to him. I’m dying to see the albums.” Then, pointing to the spread of wedding madness in front of her, she quickly adds, “But only if there’s time. And please, put me to work for anything you need. I’d love to help.”
My mom is delighted, but Kelsey lets out a soft laugh, easing into the empty seat beside Janie. Reaching across the table, she pulls the piles closer to her.
“Oh my goodness,no,Harlow. You’resosweet to offer, but if the Gradys need anything at all, they know they can count on me.”
Jesus.
Walt and Janie exchange a meaningful glance. But I’m not worried.
