Of Happiness

by Olivia Luck

  Amanda meets my eyes and gives a weak smile. I settle back into my seat. “I slipped into their lifestyle so easily. Doing blow with Claire before we went out. I was disgusted with myself. But I thought if I did it, I would fit in better with Claire, and even my own husband. It turns out it was a common interest between them. Peter admitted that the first time he slept with Claire, it was after snorting cocaine. Can you believe that?”

  I nod gloomily.

  “I should have listened when you said it was Claire and Peter all along. Of course my best friend”—her lips dip down when she says the words—“never confessed to anything. It wasn’t until I asked Peter that I found out they’ve been sleeping together for two years. Two stinking years my husband screwed my best friend.”

  I wince as she punctuates her words by slamming her fist onto the coffee table, making our drinks jump.

  “You’ll be happy to know I’ve decided to take your advice,” Amanda announces once some of her anger has thawed.

  I lean back in my seat against the couch. “Oh?”

  “In the fall I’m going to start taking interior design courses.”

  “Amanda, that’s wonderful!”

  “But not in Chicago. I’m moving back to Texas, closer to my family. It’ll be easier to move on from Peter if I’m further away.” Her nose wrinkles. “I’m sorry I won’t need your services anymore.”

  “You have nothing to be sorry for. I didn’t come here for that. I wanted to talk to you because I care about you.”

  At that, Amanda’s face softens. She shakes her head sadly. “Claire’s web of deceit stretched over to Melinda Fletcher.”

  “Yes, unfortunately I lost her business.”

  “It’s a small gesture, but I called Melinda over the weekend and explained to her that Claire’s not well. Now she knows I trust you implicitly and I suggested she rehire you.”

  “Amanda—”

  “I’m not finished,” she interrupts. “Melinda told me she had her own suspicions that her husband was having an affair.”

  “Claire?” I guess.

  Amanda shrugs, pausing to take a neat sip of coffee. “That was my first inclination, and I told her as such. But Melinda has no concrete proof that Landon’s stepping out on her. Yet.”

  “For her sake, I hope she’s just paranoid,” I mutter, forgetting my drink and crossing one leg over the other.

  “Me too. Over the next several weeks I’ll be packing up with plans to leave around Labor Day.”

  “In another life I think we could have been real friends,” I tell her truthfully. “I’ll miss you, Amanda.”

  “So you’re going to stay here then?” she asks, sounding and looking shocked.

  “Harris and I worked things out,” I admit with a mixture of shyness and pride.

  For the first time since I walked into Amanda’s home, she gives me a true smile, one that reaches up to her eyes. “That’s one piece of good news today. And I think we could have been friends in another life, too. Maybe it’s not too late?” She says the last part hopefully, lips pressed together and leaning slightly.

  “I would love that chance.” Uncrossing my legs, I rise and she does too. We meet in the middle for a brief hug. “Thank you for listening.”

  “Thank you for listening,” she says.

  I collect my tote back from its position next to the sofa and follow Amanda into the foyer. “How about we meet for lunch next week? I’d love to pick your brain about school,” she suggests as she pulls open the heavy door.

  I step part way through, then turn back with her request. “Let’s do it.” We exchange another friendly smile. The mood has completely shifted from where it was when I entered her home. I feel much lighter, and from the gentle, but weary expression she wears, it’s easy to see that she’s experiencing a similar relief. “I’ll call you over the weekend to set a date,” I tell her.

  “Please do.” She shuts the door behind me firmly.

  When I’m no longer in sight of the house, I pull my phone out of my purse and check for messages.

  Harris: Found Claire

  I dial him immediately.

  “Edith.” He answers the phone on the first ring. By his sharp tone, I can tell he’s not pleased.

  “Hi there. What’s going on?”

  “She called an hour ago. Says she’s at some spa in Florida. Says she’s not ready for therapy.”

  “Harris, you can offer the best advice that you know. Only she has the ability to truly listen and take action.”

  “Right,” he mutters, clearly in disbelief.

  “Look on the bright side, now we know where to find her. You can call off the investigation. Give her some space.”

  He grunts.

  Undeterred, I continue. “As much as you want to control her behavior, you can’t.”

  There’s no response, just a heavy sigh.

  Now less than ten feet away from the entrance to the Elevated Train, an oncoming subway car makes its loud presence known at the stop, screeching as it slows to a halt.

  “What the fuck was that noise?” Harris snaps.

  “Calm down, I’m just getting to the train station. I’m about to go home.”

  “No, you’re waiting for Marcus to pick you up. Where are you?”

  “Armitage stop.”

  Then there’s a scuffle and I hear him urgently telling Luke to dispatch the driver to me.

  I can’t help it as I smile into the phone even though he’s being ridiculous. “Will it make you feel better to insist that a private driver escort me home?”

  “Yes,” he sighs. “Haven’t you caught on that I’m the high maintenance one in this relationship?”

  I burst into a fit of giggles. “Okay, then I’ll accept the ride this time, because I love you.”

  “I love you too,” he says. Then, softly. “And so we’re clear, I prefer when Marcus drives you.”

  Rolling my eyes, I tug my sunglasses out of my bag and push them on my face to protect my eyes from the glare while I wait. “I must be mistaken. I thought I was talking to my rational boyfriend.”

  “When it comes to you, I’m far from rational. I’m in a man in love; you can’t blame me for being overprotective,” he insists.

  “I’ll be okay,” I reassure him softly and he sighs.

  “Marcus will be there in less than ten. I’ll see you later tonight, baby.”

  “Bye.”

  A few minutes later when I climb into the car, I’m gnawing on my lower lip, anxious with thoughts of Claire. Even though I tried to help Harris relax, I’m unable to do the same. My stomach pinches with fear because deep down I know that she’s unwilling to admit something’s wrong. It’s larger than just a disheveled relationship with me. I’m sensing now that the chasm of Claire’s issues run far deeper than Harris or I ever imagined.

  Harris, Sean, Luke, and I sit around a table at Shack, the barbecue joint Greg took us to a few weeks ago. Oddly enough, we sit at the same table where I started to pick up on Claire’s flirtatious habit toward my friend.

  Even though they just spent a workday together, there’s no tension between Harris and Luke. In fact they seem completely comfortable dining together, despite their business relationship.

  As we eat the last bites of our meal, I finish retelling the story of Harris’ surprise trip to DC.

  “All in the name of love. Could you be any more romantic?” Sean says, wiping an imaginary tear from his eye.

  Harris smothers a laugh. “Sean, has anyone ever told you that you’re a character?”

  “Only every other day,” Luke interjects, but grins fondly at his boyfriend.

  “Hey!” Sean gasps, affronted.

  “But I wouldn’t have it any other way.” That mollifies my friend, and he leans over to sneak a kiss on his boyfriend’s cheek.

  Turning to my own date, I return the tilt of his lips.

  “It was incredibly romantic, but also so thoughtful,” I tell them. “I was so glad to share that
experience with Sarah. She asked me to be her maid of honor.”

  “Don’t let her pick awful bridesmaid dresses,” Sean instructs. “And tell her that peach and mint are not your colors.”

  Laughing, I shake my head. “I trust Sarah to pick out something flattering for all of her bridesmaids, but in case she veers for the pastels, I’ll make sure she knows your opinion. Actually, she’ll be in town soon with her mom, and I would love it if you met her.”

  Sean claps his hands together excitedly. “I thought you’d never ask! Don’t worry, I’ll tell her what color palette works best for your skin tone when I meet her.”

  “Thanks,” I say, rolling my eyes in good-natured exasperation.

  Luke clears his throat, casting a somewhat nervous look to Sean. “I have some news,” he tells us.

  “What’s that?” Harris wonders. He stretches his forearm along the backside of my chair. With a slight tug, my chair careens toward his. He collects me underneath his arm, and I relax into his sturdy embrace.

  “That’s better,” he murmurs into my ear.

  Luke clears his throat nervously, then addresses us both, though his eyes spend more time on Harris than me. “When I interviewed for the job as your assistant, I told you that I have aspirations of becoming a lawyer. After lots and lots of procrastination, Sean has kicked my butt enough to make me realize that I’m wasting time not going after my dream.” He pauses to a take deep, fortifying breath. “In the fall I’m going to submit my applications to a few local law schools. With my test scores and GPA, I think I’ll be able to get into at least one.”

  Before Harris can respond, and I can tell he has the mind to because his mouth drops open, Sean jumps into the conversation. “My man is completely modest. He kicked the LSAT all the way into the next state and he practically had straight A’s in college. The law schools will come begging for him.”

  Luke watches Harris anxiously, but keeps his back straight and head held high. I turn to check out Harris’ expression, pleased to find a proud grin splitting his lips. But when he speaks, he doesn’t comment on Luke’s decision, just asks a question.

  “And do you have a top choice?”

  “University of Chicago,” Luke answers instantly.

  “My alma mater.” Harris nods approvingly. “Then I’ll do everything in my power to make it happen for you. You’ll have my blessing as long as you can commit to one stipulation.”

  Sean’s nose wrinkles and his eyes narrow. “Luke doesn’t need your help if it comes with strings attached.”

  I can see why Sean’s upset, stepping in to block him from what he thinks is a threat. But I can tell by the way Harris slate-gray eyes twinkle mischievously that nothing wicked this way comes. Lazily, he strokes a thumb along the top of my shoulder, and I sigh happily, letting the conversation unfold. Luke seems to catch on to Harris’ unspoken words and disregards his boyfriend’s well-intentioned protection.

  “What’s the stipulation?”

  “If you want to, you’ll intern with me at Franklin & Smith, and if you decide to go into corporate law, you come work with me. You’re talented, Luke, and I want to continue working with you.”

  Luke grins broadly and extends his hand across the table. “Deal,” he says firmly. Harris removes his arm from his spot circling my shoulders and shakes Luke’s strongly. Then Harris pulls me back into his embrace, dropping a kiss on the crown of my head, causing waves of warmth to ripple through my body.

  “Good man,” he tells Luke.

  “If you want someone to read your applications, I can help.” I pipe in. “Check my blog, you’ll see I have very few typos.”

  Luke surveys the table, smiling broadly. He mirrors Harris’ grip on me, enveloping Sean in a similar embrace. “We’ve got a great little group here,” he tells us. “Let’s try not to forget it.”

  “And let us all also not forget that none of us look good in pastels. They’re way too preppy,” Sean adds.

  Shaking my head, I toss my balled up napkin at his face.

  “There’s grease on that! How dare you?!” he cries, tossing the napkin back at me.

  As the elevator ascends upward speedily, Harris settles his hand so low on my back he nearly caresses my ass.

  “Dinner was good,” I tell him teasingly, ignoring the tingling sensation brewing.

  He hums his agreement as the door whooshes open. Still with his fingertips at the base of my spine, he lightly pushes me forward into the foyer. When we’re safely out of the elevator I spin around and wind my arms around his neck.

  “I’m unsatisfied, still hungry.” His eyes darken, nearly black with lust. Dipping down, he captures my mouth, nibbling at my lower lip until they part and allow room for his roving tongue.

  Breathlessly, I pull out of his embrace, placing a hand flat on his chest to stop his advances. “I can help you with that.”

  Eyes narrowed with obvious intent, he swoops closer to haul me into his embrace when a vibration in his pocket halts him. With a groan, he uses one hand to yank the phone out and the other to lock me up against the length of his body, explicitly displaying his attraction.

  “What?” he snaps into the phone.

  I hear a muffled voice that sounds similar to his friend and colleague, Matt.

  “You have the worst fucking timing, brother.” Harris mutters into the phone. “Thirty minutes, that’s all you’re getting.”

  Matt responds and I catch him saying something about a client being in town tomorrow. “Fine, fine,” Harris agrees, using his thumb to turn off the device. Then he jams it back into the denim pocket. “Baby, I’m sorry.”

  “Nothing to be sorry about.” I stop his words by pressing a quick kiss into the pulse point on his neck. “I wouldn’t mind some quality time with your piano while I wait.”

  “Thirty minutes pass, you need to kidnap me. He only gets that from me.”

  I twist around his body to swat his ass.

  “Then you better hurry up ‘cause now I think you’re down to twenty-nine minutes.” Harris turns me around by the shoulders, giving me a gentle push into the living space, toward the piano.

  “Twenty nine then,” he says as he hastily retreats into the office.

  In his absence and before my beloved instrument, the time goes by quickly. He doesn’t make a sound from the other room, and soon I’m checking my watch to reveal that time is up for Mr. Grant. I leave my sandals underneath the piano, the hardwood floors cool on my bare feet as I wander down the hallway that leads to his office. When I’m outside the door, I hear him grumbling on the phone. Propping my shoulder on the doorframe, I make my existence known by waving at him. He smiles briefly at me, then scrubs a hand across his short hair.

  “You’re taking me away from my woman now, and you expect me to go to some fucking dinner tomorrow?”

  His eyes meet mine and I mouth don’t worry.

  “Things change, Matt,” he snaps into the phone. “Now I’d rather spend time with the best thing that’s ever happened to me. In the future let’s try to avoid these pop-up dinners, shall we?” He snorts at something Matt says and softens his tone. “Good night. I’ll see you in the morning.” Still with a scowl darkening his handsome features, he drops the phone on his desk with a clatter. “I’m sorry, baby, but I won’t be able to eat with you tomorrow night.”

  “I’m still stuck on ‘best thing that’s ever happened to me,’” I admit. “Because that’s how I think of you, but I never expressed it…”

  “Now I’ve said it for both of us,” Harris says, eyes twinkling. “Get over here. You’re too far away.”

  “I’m here to kidnap you, shouldn’t I be giving the orders?” I ask even as I cross the length of the room to where he’s sprawled in a large, leather desk chair. He swivels the seat, so he faces me fully. When I’m right in front of him, he lifts his palms to my cheeks, cupping them tenderly.

  “I’m still hungry.” The words are rich with an unspoken promise.

  “I can still
help.”

  No more invitation needed, he tilts his head upward slightly and pulls me into another all-consuming kiss. The chair doesn’t have arm rests, so when I settle into his lap, my legs fall on either side of him. Our kiss is frantic like we’ve just been reunited after being millions of miles apart.

  His hands fall from my cheeks and find their ways to my thighs, pushing up the skirt of my dress. Then he cups my ass, massaging my skin with enough physicality to make me start circling my hips against his length, whimpering into his mouth.

  “Stand up,” he demands as his hands find my hips and urge me backward and off the chair. When I’m standing just an inch from him, he unbuttons his jeans and lowers them along with his boxer briefs. Hurriedly, I push my panties off my hips and kick them away with my toe. I don’t have time to remove any other clothing because he’s urgently pulling me back to his lap, fingertips digging into my hips. My feet go wide around the side of the chair as he settles himself back down. With his guidance, I lift my body, so I hover slightly above his throbbing erection. His expression determined, he watches as I sink down, letting out a low moan as our bodies make full contact.

  “Fuck,” he hisses, then lifts his hips to meet mine. His hands drift around my ass again, cupping me close. I clutch his shoulders as I raise my body to thrust up and down. But as I pause on a down shift, I notice that if I raise my feet slightly, Harris’ cock hits exactly right where I want it. I inhale a short intake of breath with the first graze of contact.

  “Not so fast,” he grunts, moving his hands back to my hips, so he can assume control. Then he’s guiding me faster and faster against him. Up, down, up, down. My back arches involuntarily, desperate for the contact against the insistent desire.

  “Please,” I gasp, digging my nails into his broad shoulders. He releases his grip just a millimeter, enough so I can angle my body to hit just the right spot, the exact place that with just a few more strokes sends me crying out in pleasure.

  Though I’m riding through a dizzy wave of ecstasy, Harris continues moving our bodies together in a synced rhythm. Then a moment later, he joins me, shouting my name and clutching my body almost to the point of pain as his climax overtakes his sense.