by Gina Azzi
Her laughter rings out, mingling with other partygoers. Flashes snap from cameras. Bryce appears, his arrogance filling the space with a sour note. Carlo trails after him and a blaze of anger streaks through me. They’re friends?
I shift in my chair, ready to spring into action if Harlow needs me.
Bryce steps to her. I watch as she shakes her head and tries to duck under his arm.
Someone yells something, and a group of people cheer and whistle.
Harlow twists away and I’m on my feet, striding toward her just in time to watch as Bryce grasps her face and kisses her hard on the mouth.
She shoves against his chest, her eyes wide.
Fury like I’ve never felt before overwhelms me until I’m nearly vibrating with rage. I reach for Harlow but I’m still too far away.
Bryce’s hold on her tightens, completely ignoring the fact that she’s pushing him away.
Carlo’s jeering and laughter cuts through the air.
“Get your fucking hands off her,” I command, my voice eerily controlled when I reach them. Yanking Bryce’s arm, he loses his hold on Harlow and her eyes collide with mine, wide and panicked.
Our corner of the party quiets, an uncomfortable, stuffy silence that claws at my throat.
“You okay?” I ask Harlow.
She nods, slipping past Bryce and coming to stand next to me.
“Calm the fuck down, man,” Bryce laughs but one look at me has him backing down.
My hands are clenched in fists, my body naturally springing into a boxer’s stance. It feels like I’m straining against my own skin, desperate to rip free and take this fucker down. Harlow’s hand touches my arm and her presence, the worry flaring in her green eyes, centers me some. I glare at Bryce, hard and unyielding, until one of his friend’s along with Carlo moves him out of my line of sight and a sick beat drops, filling the party with noise and laughter again.
“Hey, you good?” Eli mutters next to me.
“Fine,” I bite out, my voice curt as I try to keep a handle on all the emotions bubbling under the surface, ready to burst forth. My fingers itch, desperate to knock Bryce’s teeth down his throat.
The image of him touching Harlow, of him taking something from her she wasn’t willing to give, sears my mind, causing me to see red.
“Time to go,” Eli correctly reads my intentions and jostles me from the room.
When we step outside, the night air slams into me.
“Where’s Harlow?” I ask.
Eli steers me toward a limo. “Right behind us with Zoe.”
Once the four of us are seated in the back, Eli communicates with the driver and we pull away from the party.
I stare out the window, adrenaline still coursing through my body. I can’t even look at Harlow. I can feel her stare on the side of my face and the fact that she hasn’t reached out to me, touched me at all, pisses me off. Why the hell did he think he could put his mouth on hers? Why didn’t he let go of her when she pushed against him?
The more streets we cross, the calmer I become. My anger begins to morph into reason and my fingers uncurl from the fists they’ve been locked in.
“I’m sorry,” Harlow murmurs next to me.
I swing my face toward hers. “For what?”
“For Bryce kissing me.”
“Why the hell are you apologizing for that?” My anger flares again, churning deep in the pit of my stomach. “You didn’t ask for it.”
“No, but I… I shouldn’t have put myself in that position.”
“What? Having some shots with your friends? You’re right. You should have stayed attached to my side the entire night.”
Harlow’s eyes widen and Eli shoots me a warning look.
“What the hell, Harlow? You didn’t do anything wrong! You were having fun with your friends. Golden Boy shouldn’t have stepped to you, touched you, kissed you. And he sure as fuck shouldn’t have been able to just walk away afterwards.”
Harlow closes her eyes. I watch as a tear slips out, sliding down her cheek.
The sight of it causes my chest to ache and I slip an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into my side.
“Don’t fucking apologize for him being an asshole,” I say into her hair, breathing her in.
She curls into my side. “You’re not mad at me?”
I could drown in her green eyes. “I could never be mad at you, Low. But I hate that I can’t fucking protect you. And I hate that I don’t understand your world at all. I don’t get how any of that is okay.” I gesture to the outside of the car, indicating the party and everything we left behind. “And Carlo’s friends with Bryce?”
Across from us, Eli and Zoe are silent.
Harlow closes her eyes again.
We spend the remainder of the car ride lost in our own thoughts.
By the time we return to Harlow’s family home, we’re both irritable and drained from the events of the evening. I shrug out of my jacket and unbutton the top of my shirt, feeling like I can inhale for the first time all night.
While Harlow pulls pins from her hair and scrubs makeup from her eyelids, I walk out onto the balcony attached to her bedroom. Bracing my arms against the railing, I lean into the quiet of the night.
It really is beautiful. Dark sky, shimmering stars, the scent of summer and flowers and sea. Slowly, the adrenaline pulsing through my body slows, my heart rate returns to normal, and some of the anger I’ve been harboring since I came face-to-face with Golden Boy subsides.
Cracking my neck from side to side, I roll my dress shirt up my forearms and close my eyes.
Glitzy premieres and after parties. Sharp suits and fake laughter.
Could this ever be my life?
Who would want to live like this? It’s like existing inside a lie where each move you make adds another layer. Nothing seems genuine, authentic, real.
“Hey.” Her voice is soft when it reaches my ears.
Resting my back against the railing, I drink Harlow in. The woman who stands before me now is the one I fell in love with.
No makeup. No pretenses. No facade.
She looks more beautiful now, her hair cascading around her shoulders in big waves, no goo concealing her features, clad in cutoffs and a tank, than she did this evening, posing as a glossier version.
I doubt she would take my musings as a compliment.
“Hey,” I reply, clearing my throat.
She steps closer. “Can we talk?”
My stomach sinks at the uncertainty in her expression. “Sure.”
She looks as me before her eyes shift to a spot on the ground, about three feet from my shoes.
“What’s going on, Low?” I prod, hating the tightness in my tone.
Her eyes flash up to mine. “I know tonight was…complicated.”
“It was okay.”
She chuckles, shaking her head. When she reaches the banister, she rests her elbows on top. Her fingertips skate over the hoop in her nose. I feel nerves scatter through my veins, like coins thrown in a fountain.
She stares out into the darkness of the night, and I feel the shift as she recedes into her own thoughts. Not meeting my gaze, she sighs heavily. The sound tugs at my chest, filling me with dread.
For the first time ever, Harlow is pulling away from me.
The realization is unsettling and it fills me with anxiety and frustration and guilt because fuck, how many times have I pulled this shit with her? Except one look at the doubt in her eyes makes me burn with shame. Of course she’s not doing this purposefully, in some stupid tit-for-tat tally. She’s seriously unsure about me. About this.
About us.
“Harlow.”
At the sound of her name, she peers up at me, her green eyes swimming with tears. “I wanted tonight to be perfect. I wanted you to see my world and fall a little bit in love with it and understand why I’m so passionate about my career.”
“I do understand.” I rush to reassure her. “And I’m so unbelievably proud
of you. When you P.A.’ed for Eli, I was fucking proud of you. But seeing all the things you’re working toward now…baby, I think you’re amazing.”
She shakes her head. “The second we got out of the car tonight, you were relieved to find Zoe. With me, you felt unsure of yourself. By my side, you were on edge.”
“I’ve never been in a setting like this before.”
“That’s crap, Connor. You’ve been to a ton of Eli’s events over the years.”
“Yeah. As his friend. Not as your boyfriend.”
Her voice rises several octaves, exasperated. “How is it any different?”
I bite the corner of my mouth, trying to keep my annoyance at bay. “Because now I’m representing you. You don’t think people saw you with me tonight and wondered why the hell you, beautiful, charismatic, alluring Harlow Reid, were slumming it with some nobody from Chicago?”
Her mouth drops open, her eyes widening. “Is that what you think?”
I laugh but it’s humorless. “Come on, babe. Your own mom—”
“Don’t take anything she says seriously.”
“There were a lot of looks tonight. I mean, you were dating Bryce ‘Golden Boy’ Hawke.”
“I thought you didn’t like him.”
“I can’t fucking stand him. But doesn’t a part of you wonder if I dislike him because I know he’s the type of man you should be with?”
“What? A guy who—”
“No!” I cut her off, rocketing my fist behind me until it clangs off the bannister, the vibration running down my arm. “Not Bryce. Not a fucking douchebag who cheats on you. But a guy with his credentials. A famous actor who can buy you the three-carat-ring and the home like this one.” I throw my arm out to encompass the mansion she grew up in. “A man who can help you grow your career and not be a social liability.”
“You think you’re a liability?” she practically shouts at me.
“I don’t fit in here.” I lower my voice, slapping my palm against my chest. “I don’t fit in this world that you call home.”
She sighs, her eyes closing. In that one breath, it’s like the fight’s gone out of her. Her shoulders round forward and suddenly, she looks crushed. Exhausted. Done. “I love you, Connor. I have for so damn long.”
“I love you too, Harlow.”
She nods, a tear spilling onto her cheek.
I stop it with the pad of my thumb and she hiccups.
“But it’s not enough,” she whispers.
“What?” I shift toward her, my hand encircling her wrist.
She shakes off my touch and backs away a full step, causing me to reach for her as warnings clang in my brain and confusion swirls in my stomach. “What are you talking about, Low?”
“I know you love me. At least, you think you do. But you don’t love all the parts of me. Just the parts you like best. The parts you understand the most,” she says, her voice breaking.
“What are you saying?”
“My career, L.A., this world, it’s part of who I am. The Harlow I am with you, the one you used to like to hook up with when you visited L.A. or I was in Chicago, was just a sliver of the woman I am. Sure, we’ve gotten to learn more about each other over the past two months. But let’s be real, Connor. We never really showed each other our lives until now. And tonight, the first time I try to share my world with you, you dismiss it. You almost got into a fight at an after party I helped plan.”
“That doesn’t mean that I don’t want you.”
She sobs openly now and my heart cracks. Reaching for her again, I growl when she takes another half-step back, the heels of her hands pressed into her eyes. “I’m tired of chasing you, Connor. This is who I am.” She drops her hands and lets me see her. The woman I want more than my next breath.
“Harlow, please.”
“Please what? Please change so you don’t feel insecure? Please don’t come back to L.A.? Please only show you the parts you like?”
“No, no. That’s not what I meant.”
“You know what, Connor? It’s been a long night. I’m tired and emotional and right now I just want to sleep. I agree, there are things we need to talk about. But I’m not up for hashing them out tonight. I think I should spend a few more days in L.A., visiting with my friends and family. I understand if you can’t, though I’d love it if you wanted to. To try, to give this the shot it deserves. It’s your choice.” She throws the ultimatum at my feet. Then she turns on her heel and leaves me on the balcony.
Under the beautiful stars.
With the scent of summer lingering in the air.
For the first time since I met Harlow Reid, I fear I may actually lose her for good.
Not because I pushed her away.
But because I didn’t run fast enough to catch her.
23
Harlow
Crawling under the covers in my bed, my heart lunges into my throat and I fight the onslaught of tears.
Tonight was supposed to be perfect. Magical. Tonight, I was supposed to feel secure walking into that party with Connor by my side. Instead, it all went sideways. He was distant the entire night. On the outside he looked perfect, but his expression was stony, his eyes too dark to read, and his signature smirk gone.
Instead of having an adult conversation, I reverted to default mode – damage control.
I covered with my friends, creating excuses for his behavior and silence. I talked up his career to build him up, knowing deep down my embellishments only tore him down.
Exhausted and a little bit heartbroken, I close my eyes and yearn for sleep. I never thought I deserved Connor. For years, I chased and wished and tried to make something out of nothing. But tonight, a small part of me that flickers larger with my indignation, feels like Connor doesn’t deserve me.
Fine, he doesn’t fit in with the Hollywood scene.
Big fucking deal. He doesn’t need to show up for those people. He needs to show up for me. The same way I’ve showed up for him. The way I supported the new direction of his gym and threw myself into the launch of Soul Sanctuary regardless of everything else on my plate.
My anger crests and crashes as a sob I’ve been holding back breaks free. Tears stream freely down my face. I’m grateful Connor is still glowering outside, where he can’t see my expression and try to make me make sense of everything I’m feeling right now.
The truth is, I’m feeling pretty worthless.
Why am I not enough?
Not for Bryce, not for Connor.
But I am for me. And that has to mean something, right?
The sliding door catches and I force my breathing to even out. Keeping my eyes closed, I ignore the sounds of Connor moving quietly around my bedroom, feigning sleep. When he slides under the covers next to me, his warmth spreading over me despite the inches that separate us, I finally drift to sleep.
When I wake in the morning, my bed is empty.
Panic shoots through me and I bolt upright, my eyes swinging around the bedroom.
Connor’s overnight bag, which he had stored on the chaise lounge in the corner, is gone.
“What the hell?” I mutter, throwing back my sheets and swinging my legs to the side of the bed.
The moment I stand, my head pounds, an emotional hangover. Sighing, I scan the space for clues.
Is he out for a run?
Did he need to work and took his laptop and entire bag downstairs?
A piece of ripped notebook paper under a photo frame on the bedside table catches my attention.
I stride toward it and rip the paper out from under the frame, my eyes bouncing all over the page, trying to make sense of the message.
Low,
Nurse Jeannie called early this morning. Pop’s in bad shape. I took the first flight out. Didn’t want to wake you after such a long night, especially with more sad news. Take your time in L.A. When you come home, I’ll be waiting.
Connor
“Shit!” I dash for the clutch I carried last night. Rooting i
nside, I pull out my cell phone. It’s freaking dead and I forgot to plug it in last night!
I jam a charger into the phone, bouncing from one foot to the next as I wait for it to turn on. When it does, a slew of voicemails and messages from Eli and Zoe appear on the screen.
I quickly redial Zoe. “What happened? Is he okay?” I ask as soon as she answers.
“Hey. Are you okay? We’ve been trying to reach you for hours.”
Glancing at the clock in my room, I swear again. How did I sleep past noon? “My phone died. How’s Connor?”
Zoe draws in a shaky breath and a fog of apprehension creeps over my senses, numbing them. “Harlow, his dad passed.”
“What? What are you talking about? I just, I just saw him,” I rationalize, pointlessly.
“Low.” Eli takes the phone. His voice is strong and solid. Unshakeable, like the man. “We’re on our way home from the airport. There’s a flight in two hours you can catch if you leave now. Want me to book you?”
“Wait, what? You guys are back in Chicago?”
“Yeah. That’s why we kept trying you. To see if you wanted to fly back with us.”
“Oh. Um, I—”
“Why the hell are you hesitating? Connor’s pop died. He’s going to need you.”
“We, um,” I stutter, flabbergasted. Emotion crashes down on my head in waves and my ability to think clearly evaporates.
Zoe’s voice returns to the line. “Harlow? Is everything okay?”
“We got in a fight.”
“Okay. I understand. But I’m sure he’ll still want to see you.”
“I don’t know.”
Eli again. “Harlow, cut the shit. It doesn’t matter, okay? Nothing matters except that Cameron died this morning. Whether or not Connor wants to see you is irrelevant, because he’s going to fucking need you.”
At the resolve in his tone, I finally catch up to the moment. To everything that happened, to the world that crumbled, to the man sitting in a hospital, alone and brokenhearted, while I fucking slept. “Okay. Book me on the flight. I’m packing now.”
