Griffin: It was fucking RUSH! How many times do I have to tell you I can’t just turn the radio off when Tom Sawyer plays?
Brig: I’m the same way with Ed Sheeran. He has me by the balls.
Reid: . . .
Rogan: I don’t know what to say to that.
Griffin: Galway Girl is good. Ren loves that song.
Brig: Fuck, yeah. Galway Girl **Does Irish Jig** that shit is my jam.
Reid: Can we please get back to Rogan and Harper.
Rogan: Nah, I’m good. Let’s stick with Ed Sheeran.
Griffin: Reid’s right. What’s with the friendship announcement?
Brig: Friends first . . . LOVERS next. It’s the perfect plan.
Griffin: Christ. Are you really taking Brig’s advice?
Rogan: I’m ashamed to say, yes.
Reid: From the way I saw Harper stomping around the general store this morning, I’m guessing she’s not too thrilled. But . . . she had her friendship bracelet on.
Rogan: Did she?
Brig: ^^^ was that desperation in your voice?
Reid: I think it was.
Griffin: For sure, with a voice crack, easily.
Reid: Voice crack for sure.
Brig: Definite voice crack.
Rogan: Fuck off, all of you.
Brig:
Griffin:
Reid:
Jen: I fear for all the women in this town.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
HARPER
Sophomore Year, Syracuse University
“Tomorrow—you and me, right?”
I apply a light coat of Chapstick to my lips. “Yup. We’re going to see a movie up in Pottsmouth, right?”
“That’s the plan.” My dad smiles and pulls me into a hug. “I’m going to miss you. This summer break went by too fast. That event-planning internship at the inn took up all your time when you weren’t with that Knightly boy.”
“I know.” I sigh, leaning my cheek against his chest. “I wish I didn’t work so much, but I don’t want you to have to foot the bill for me all the time.”
“You know I don’t mind, sweetie. I just want you to get an education and experience college, something I was never able to do. Your mom would have wanted the same.”
I smile sadly and wrap my arms around my dad’s waist. “I miss her.”
“I miss her too. But I will tell you this: she would be proud of the woman you are today.” He tips my chin up. “And she would have really liked that Knightly boy.”
“You think?”
He nods. “Oh yeah. She would have loved him. He’s a good guy. I trust him with your heart.”
“That means a lot, Dad.” I give him a quick kiss on his cheek, slip my sandals on, and then take off down the hall. “I’ll be home late.”
“And where are you going, missy?”
Knock, knock. The door cracks open, and Rogan peeks his head around, his smile when he sees me hitting me square in the heart.
“Hey, you,” he says quickly before stepping into the entryway and walking over to my dad to give him a handshake. “Mr. Sanders, it’s good to see you.”
“You too,” my dad says with a wink. Uh, that was weird.
“Where are we off to?” I ask Rogan, slipping my hand in his. He squeezes it tightly.
He smiles down at me. “How about some ice cream and then a stroll down the Harbor Walk?”
“Sounds like a plan to me. That okay, Dad?”
He nods. “Just have her home before midnight.”
I roll my eyes. “We’re in college, Dad.”
“And you’re still living under my roof. Midnight.”
“You have my word, Mr. Sanders.”
With a quick wave, we head out to Rogan’s truck, the summer evening just warm enough for a T-shirt and shorts. The waves crash against the rocks, and the salty sea air envelops me as I take in the moment. Summer in Maine is my favorite time of the year; it soothes the soul in a way no other season can. Tonight is going to be no exception. I can feel the buzz in the air; it’s perfect for one last romantic night.
Rogan opens the door for me but doesn’t shut it; instead, he holds on to the top and leans in, his strong shoulders and biceps pulling at the fabric of his shirt. God, he’s so hot.
“Where’s my kiss, Harp?”
“Oh, I apologize.” I chuckle, leaning forward, my palm sliding up his chest to the back of his neck.
His lips press against mine, and I’m instantly lost. We’ve spent every free moment we’ve had together. With his training and work, and my interning and waitressing at the inn, it’s been almost as tough as school, but worth every minute.
His tongue swipes across my lips, and I easily open up to him, letting him explore and mold our mouths together. I scoot in closer and encourage him to dive deeper, but instead, he pulls away and groans.
“Fuck, not here, Harp.”
“Where? On the Harbor Walk?” I tease.
He raises his eyebrows. “Do you really think we’re going to the Harbor Walk?”
“We better not.” In a haughty voice, I say, “Take me to the manor.”
Chuckling, he presses a chaste kiss on my nose and then shuts the door. “I hope you’re ready to get naked,” he says as he slides behind the wheel, “because it’s been too goddamn long since I’ve seen your tits.”
I can’t hide my smile. “Rogan, how dare you speak to a lady like that?”
He puts the truck in drive and pulls out of the driveway, eyebrows wiggling at me. “Harp, you’re going to hear a lot worse when I get between your legs. The minute we step into that house, you’d better strip.”
“And what are you going to do?”
Eyes darkened, lips wet, he says, “Watch.”
“Will your new room have a lock?” My head rests on Rogan’s bare chest as we both lie on a blanket, naked and satisfied, next to the manor fireplace.
“It better.” He chuckles. “It’s pretty small, but it fits a full bed, a desk, and a dresser. What else do I need?”
“A full? We can make that work.”
He kisses the side of my head. “Moving off campus is going to make a huge difference. Some other guys from the team will be living there too, but we’ll be able to see each other much more, and you can spend the night.”
“I sure as hell hope so. That once-a-month-in-a-hotel thing was not my favorite.”
“But we had fun exploring places in Upstate New York.”
“That Nirchis Pizza in Binghamton.” I sigh. “That was good. I would drive the hour to get that again.”
“This year is going to be different. I can feel it.”
“Me too.” I squeeze into his side.
“I actually wanted to talk to you about something.”
I sit up so I can look at him, the nervous tone in his voice setting me off. “Is everything okay?”
He bites his bottom lip, and hell, my stomach drops.
“What’s wrong?”
Rogan sits up as well. “I’ve been doing some thinking and . . . you know I love you, right?”
Oh my God. Is he going to break up with me? No.
No way.
Not possible.
But why does he look like he’s about to ask me if we can go on a break?
“What kind of thinking?” I ask, my voice shaky.
“With the new school year around the corner, I think we kind of need to make a change. There are going to be more demands on both of us. School is going to get harder. I just think . . .”
My lungs seize on me, air escaping them. A change? What’s he trying to say?
He leans back and reaches into his jeans. Trepidation hits me as well as a serious case of the worries. I mean, why change a good thing, right?
Before he can say a word, I quickly cut in. “I love you, Rogan. I know it’s going to be tough next year, but I think we can make it through all of it . . . together.” There, ju
st so he knows that whatever change he has in mind, I’m super confident about our ability to last . . . forever.
A genuine, handsome smile plays over his lips. “I couldn’t agree more.” He holds out a small velvet box, and immediately tears fall from my eyes as my hands go to my mouth. “I couldn’t imagine my life without you, and I never want to. You’re my forever girl, Harp. Will you marry me?”
“Are you . . . serious?”
The velvet box flips open, revealing a beautiful princess-cut diamond ring, modest, but perfect. “Dead serious.”
“I thought . . .” I shake my head. “I thought you were going to ask to go on a break or something.”
“Christ, Harper.” He laughs and pulls me into a hug. “When are you going to realize I don’t want anyone but you?”
Embarrassed, I bury my head in the crook of his neck. “I don’t know. You just seem too good to be true; I think a part of me is just waiting for that moment when the rug is pulled out from underneath me.”
“Not going to happen, Harp.” He puts a few inches between us and lifts my head. “So is that a yes?”
I nod, happy tears falling now. “It’s a hell yes.”
He slips the ring on my finger, and before I can admire it, I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him—my fiancé, my future husband. The one and only man I’ll ever love.
“This is ridiculous. Just let me buy the ice cream.”
“Never,” he says, pulling me out of his truck and down the sidewalk of his parents’ house. “No one’s home. I’ll just quickly grab my wallet, and we will be on our way.”
“You know, you did buy me a ring. The least I can do is buy you ice cream.”
He flashes me a death glare. “Argue about it one more time—see where it gets you.”
“Ooh.” I feign terror. “Are you going to spank me?”
“Don’t tempt me.”
We reach the front door, and he fumbles with his keys in the dark as he unlocks the door. We step inside; the house is completely dark and silent, which is . . . odd. He flips on the switch, just as a dozen people pop out and shout, “Congratulations!” at the same time—I almost pee my pants as I yelp and jump back into Rogan.
“Holy hell!” I clasp my hand over my chest. The Knightly clan and my dad all smile back at me, clapping and cheering. Above them stretches a banner that says, CONGRATULATIONS GRADUATE, but “graduate” is scratched out, and above is written, ON YOUR ENGAGEMENT. Classic Knightly party decor. They’re always reusing everything.
“She said yes, right?” Jen asks.
Rogan holds up my hand. “She said yes.”
Everyone cheers, and my dad is the first to hurry forward, pulling me into a hug. He turns to Rogan and pulls him into a hug as well.
“I’m so happy for you two. You might be young, but I know love when I see it.”
“Thank you, Dad.” Our earlier conversation and the looks he and Rogan were sharing make way more sense. They were all in on it.
“But please wait until after college to get married. We’re looking at a long engagement, right?”
Before I can answer, Rogan nods. “Yes, Mr. Sanders. I want to make it through college, the football combine, and the draft before we get married. I just had to make sure everyone knew she was off-limits in the meantime.”
“Smart man.” My dad winks and pulls me into another hug. “You got a good one, sweetie. He’s perfect for you.”
I couldn’t agree more.
The rest of the night is filled with congratulations; fudge, of course; celebratory toasts made with sparkling cider; and fond memories of my relationship with Rogan, starting from the very beginning. Pictures of our scrawny, little middle-school bodies are passed around, followed by pictures from high school—prom pictures, yearbook photos, and everything in between.
In awe of how far along we’ve come, I squeeze in close to Rogan’s broad body, taking in his fresh soap scent. Arm wrapped around my shoulder, he holds me tight as our families celebrate around us, their conversation full of laughter and love. I look up at Rogan, at the scruff that caresses his jaw, his dark eyelashes that highlight his light-blue eyes, and his lips that have explored every inch of my body. I don’t think I could be luckier in this moment, knowing that I’m safe, that my heart is protected, and the man who holds it will never break it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
HARPER
“Morning, Harp.” Rogan walks up to me before I can get in line at Snow Roast, two cups of coffee in his hand and a dashing look in his eyes. He nods to the corner off to the side, which is usually occupied by Rylee the romance author. “Let’s talk.”
“Talk about what?” I ask, trying to move past him to get in line.
He steps in front of me, handing me one of the coffees. “That’s for you. Two sugars and a dash of cream.” Noticing my hesitancy, he guides me toward the corner, a gentle hand under my elbow. “You know, it would help if I wasn’t forced into manhandling you.”
“Excuse me for being skeptical.”
“Why would you be skeptical? We’re friends.”
“We’re really not.”
We both sit down. After he unbuttons his finely tailored navy-blue suit jacket, he reaches over and tugs on my bracelet. “This begs to differ.”
Ugh, the godforsaken bracelet. Pink, orange, and yellow twine braided together, the thing has been the bane of my existence, but for the life of me, I can’t cut it off.
“What do you want, Rogan?”
“Is that how you talk to your friends? Maybe ease up on the irritation a little. You should be happy to see me.”
Is he insane? Honestly, Lovemark is the only reason I’m tolerating this.
“Don’t make this harder than it already is. I know this must be fun for you, acting like we’re great friends, but this hurts for me. So let’s just be cordial and get through these next few weeks, okay?”
His jaw set in stone, his eyes and attitude don’t waver. “Do you know what’s fun for me? Being able to sit here with you and just hope that maybe we could be friends again.”
“You’re really delusional, Rogan.”
Biting his lip, he scans the coffeehouse for a moment before standing abruptly and holding out his hand. I look at it but don’t move. “What’s that?” I ask, pointing to his extended arm.
“It’s the universal sign for come with me. Go on, take my hand.”
“Yeah, that’s not going to happen.” I shake my head.
“For Christ’s sake, Harper. Just take my hand and walk with me. We’re going to make this friendship a whole lot easier for you.”
“I can’t see how that’s possible, but knowing you, you’re not going to let up, so I guess we should be going.”
I stand, ignoring his hand, and gesture for him to move forward. Rolling his eyes, he walks out to his SUV and opens the passenger door; my heart skips a beat when I slip inside and catch his thoughtful gaze. He grips the top of the door like he always used to do, but instead of a pair of jeans hanging loose on his hips and a plain cotton T-shirt draped over his shoulders, his wool coat fits snug to his thick biceps, and his dress pants are finely tailored all the way down to his ankles. He might be different from the boy I used to know, but the man standing before me could easily shatter me into pieces with one flash of his roguish smile. “Buckle up, Harp. We’re going for a ride.” And with that, he slams the door shut.
The drive is short, but tense. He makes a quick stop at the local doughnut hut, where he orders one apple fritter, and then drives to . . . the Point.
Tall evergreens span the valley below, blanketing the land in green on a normally brown and dreary November day. Slate rocks border the cliff, and warning signs to stay away from the edge are scattered every few feet. A hiker’s dream, a teenager’s heaven.
When he parks the car, I shift toward him. “You can’t be serious. You took me to the Point? Are you expecting to shove your tongue down my throat?”
“I mean . . . if that’
s what you want.” He puckers his lips and starts to lean forward, but I quickly stop him with a palm to his face. Funny thing about Rogan: even though he seems standoffish, barely able to crack a smile, he has a side that’s goofy and playful, and that side is in full force right now.
“Stop that. What are we doing here?”
Not answering right away, he pops open the fritter bag and hands it to me. “For you.”
“Uh . . . aren’t you going to eat any of it?”
“Nah, I don’t eat doughnuts anymore.”
Er . . . what? Rogan used to inhale at least three fritters at a time back in high school. I know he cut down to one a day in college, but none at all? There’s something wrong with that.
“Why would you get me one, then, if you didn’t plan on joining me?”
He shrugs. “I know you like them, and I figured if I gave you something sweet, it would soften the edge in your voice.”
“Bribing me with sugar?”
“Is it working?”
I take a bite. “No.”
“Damn.” He chuckles. “I guess I’m going to have to try harder.”
I take another bite—God, these are so good. “So why did you really bring me up here?”
“I wanted somewhere private to talk, a sort of no-man’s land. I felt like the manor might be too . . . emotional, and anywhere in town would be swarming with eavesdroppers.”
“Especially after the article you had published.”
“Exactly. And my house . . . well, that wouldn’t be a good plan.”
Huh. His house. I never even thought about him owning his own place. Clearly he doesn’t live with his parents anymore, so where does he live? Given all his real estate, the way he carries himself with his nice clothes and his fancy car, I’m going to assume it’s really nice . . . and big.
“Okay, so what’s the point of talking in private?”
Staring out the window at the tops of the vast ponderosa pines spread through the valley below, he lets out a deep sigh. “It’s been seven years, Harp. I think we need to have a little friendly Q and A if we’re going to work together.”
“You want to ask me questions?”
“I want to get to know the person you are now. I think if we have a general understanding, we might work well together. Things might not be as awkward. I know I did a lot of damage, but like I said, if we’re going to be in this town together, we should make the best of it. I don’t want to fight with you; I want to cheer you on, but I can only do that if you let me . . . let me get a little closer than the flagpole length you’re keeping between us.”
That Forever Girl Page 19
