Of Happiness

by Olivia Luck

  While he settles against me, slowing his movements, I place my face against his neck. My lips tickle his throat as I whisper, “I love you.” He shifts me backward just enough, so that he can peel my cotton dress off my body. Then he tugs his own shirt off and molds me back into his embrace. I sigh happily as his palms explore the bare skin of my back with long, languid strokes.

  “Should have done that earlier, but there wasn’t enough time with all of your urgent kidnapping,” he murmurs.

  “Yes, it was my urgency,” I tell him lazily. Teasingly. Contentedly.

  The next several moments are perfect.

  And then they’re not.

  “What!” Harris explodes and my body jerks against him as he quickly adjusts his chair, so it faces the desk. Still curled in his lap, I angle my head, so I can try and figure out what caught his attention.

  Harris’ arms leave my body and begin clicking at the mouse pad on his laptop. He leans forward, muttering expletives while he reads whatever’s on the screen.

  “What’s going on?” I ask, worried.

  When he doesn’t answer immediately, I rotate completely and brace my hands on the desk, so I can steadily lean closer and read the computer. It turns out Harris is reading an email from what seems to be a private investigator, although the mailer doesn’t specifically out himself as a PI. At the end of the short note, I close my eyes and let out a shaky breath.

  “Why would Claire be seen entering a hotel in Washington, D.C. with my ex-boyfriend?”

  He squeezes me tight against his body, and I feel him shaking his head. “Don’t know, but my guy will find out what’s happening.”

  With dread, I realize then what I’ve forgotten for the past day or so. With the excitement of Claire going missing, being found, me reconciling with Amanda, exchanging frantic text messages from Sarah about her wedding and Luke announcing his decision to apply to law school, I failed to tell Harris about the exchange and subsequent threats from Jared. Nervously, I gulp, fidgeting in his arms.

  “Bathroom,” I say abruptly, slipping out of his arms. “I need to go.”

  “Baby,” Harris calls after me while I hastily scoop my clothes off the floor before scurrying through the apartment and into the bedroom. I toss my clothes into the hamper in the bathroom with shaky hands. After I’ve used the facilities, I pull his white terrycloth robe off the door hook and swath myself in the luxurious garment. It swallows my body, covering my skin from the base of my neck to where it pools around my feet on the floor. I use my toothbrush to scrub my teeth clean. While I’m spitting toothpaste into the sink, Harris fills the doorway, wearing only his boxer briefs as he watches me carefully.

  “We’ll figure this out, baby. There’s nothing to worry about it.”

  “That’s easy to say,” I blurt out, whirling around to look at him.

  “And easy to ensure.”

  “There’s something I forgot to tell you,” I say heavily, crossing my arms over my chest.

  He extends his hand to me, inviting me closer. Without hesitation, I accept and let him lift me into his arms, cradling me against his chest when he takes us both to the bed. Harris props his back against the headboard, cuddling me closer still. The tense Harris I’ve seen before when he’s worried is absent. He remains calm, soothing me.

  We’ll see if this lasts.

  “Tell me,” he says gently, tucking an errant strand of hair around the shell of my ear.

  “On Sunday morning,” I begin, surprised that this only happened yesterday, “Jared showed up to where Sarah and I were having coffee.” I feel a rumbling brew in his chest, but he says nothing as he continues holding me. “At first, there was nothing to tell you because he just stopped by the table and acted like an ass. Nothing more than that, then he was on his way.”

  “At first,” Harris repeats, his voice ice.

  “At first,” I whisper.

  “Then what did he do?”

  “I didn’t tell you earlier because you were worried about Claire, and then so many other things happened between now and then. I should have said something right away.” I’m babbling because I’m scared. Not of Harris, no, of what havoc Jared and Claire could concoct together.

  “Baby, just tell me what that piece of shit said to you.”

  “It’s not what he said,” I mumble against his chest. “It’s how he said it.” Using my hand to push off the wall of his muscle, I shift in his lap, so we can make eye contact while we talk. “After Sarah left he found me again outside the café. I wasn’t talking to the guy I dated for nearly two years; it was like the polished layer that he wears on his skin was rubbed away, revealing a sinister underside.”

  Harris’ gray eyes go stormy, his rage unmistakable.

  “Jared was furious that you, um, threatened his family.” Reaching up, I gently grope his bicep in my hands. “He grabbed my arms like this,” I whisper and this time the growl sounds loudly, “and told me Chicago is a very dangerous city, and I should be careful.”

  “Edith,” Harris grates, his mood palpable. “Don’t ever think that anything I’m going through trumps what you’re going through. If you need me, you tell me, even if my sister plays her games. We’re equals in this relationship.”

  Some of the tenseness in my shoulder dissipates. “That I know. But it doesn’t mean your worries won’t distract me from abstract threats, and that you don’t consume me with your”—I search for the right word—“hunkiness.”

  My word choice causes him to chuckle, a throaty laugh that steals some of his furor. “Yeah, I know I’m distracting.” He steals a kiss, one, two, three times over, then shifts my body around, so we’re laying side by side. He rests one hand on my waist, stroking against the robe’s rough, thick terry fabric.

  “What else happened?”

  “A couple things. When he mentioned a new girlfriend, he had this nefarious grin. That was my first clue that something was awry,” I tell him as I place my hand on chest, enjoying the feeling of his warm skin beneath my fingertips. “What I found the most interesting is that he seemed to have no idea who you are. When I mentioned your name, there were no signs of recognition. And if he was seeing Claire, don’t you think the similar last name would have caused him to save some reaction?”

  “There’s a number of explanations for that,” he says logically. “She didn’t tell him her last name, gave a fake one, lied to him somehow.”

  “Right, there must be some sort of manipulation on both of their parts. Neither has the best track record.” I say the last part softly, not pleased to speak ill of Claire with him.

  He gives me a reassuring squeeze, angling his face down to kiss my forehead. “And that’s why I demanded she get help. My guy is looking into what’s happening with Jared and Claire.”

  “There’s no way of knowing what he’ll turn up with, if anything,” I finish his unspoken words.

  “He’s found Claire out before; he’ll do it again.”

  “I don’t like these games, Harris.” An unexpected shiver rolls through my shoulders. Harris holds me tighter and I unconsciously suck in air.

  “Breathe.”

  I don’t do anything until he gives me another squeeze, then I release the breath I’ve been holding, slowly, and with it goes some of the fear.

  “Take some of my strength,” he whispers into my hair. “Because you’ve got it all behind you. No matter what, I’m protecting you.”

  Letting the assuredness of his words wash over me, I take another soothing breath. “Finding out that she tracked Jared down is shocking,” I murmur. “But I’m okay now.”

  “Will you do me a favor and let Marcus drive you wherever you need to go for the next several days?”

  “Gladly,” I mutter, shuffling across the bed to snuggle into his arms.

  “Soon this will be nothing but a memory.”

  Even though his voice sounds steady, I can’t help the growing sensation of anxiety tormenting me. I’ve seen firsthand the destruction that C
laire and Jared can create with just a few words or stolen moments after a fundraiser. In the safety of Harris’ body-made cocoon, I’m glad he’s unable to see my expression, because if he did, it would be no feat to catch my unease.

  Harris’ warm breath sends a tingle down my spine when he murmurs into my ear to wake me. “Do you want to join Matt and me at that dinner tonight?”

  My eyes are still shut, but a grin stretches across my cheeks. “Don’t you think that would be slightly unprofessional? Bringing your interior design girlfriend to a dinner about a merger?”

  Pressing his arousal into me, he grumbles, “It’s an acquisition, thank you. And I don’t give a shit what’s professional and what’s not. Say yes.” He nuzzles his stubble against my cheek.

  “I thought I’d try to help Luke with his applications tonight since you’ll be out.”

  Harris responds with an incoherent grunt.

  “You should be happy; I’m having a full conversation with you before five in the morning,” I tease him.

  Suddenly I’m flat on my back, Harris looming over me, smiling with purpose glimmering in his gray eyes.

  “You’re going to give me my workout this morning.”

  “I am?” My voice comes out as a squeak.

  He touches his lips to mine, eyes staring into mine, unblinking. In the gray depths, no emotion hides. Lust sizzles around us, but so does deep, unending love.

  “Let’s capture this moment,” he whispers. “Because never did I dare imagine I’d feel this kind of happiness. And now that it’s here, I never want to let it go.”

  Tears gather behind my eyes and I blink rapidly to keep them at bay.

  “Completely ruined,” I tell him honestly.

  “From what?”

  “Any other man, any other relationship.”

  Slowly his lips turn into that smug smirk that tells me he knew that before I spoke the words aloud. “Good thing I intend to keep you forever.”

  “Great thing.”

  An hour later we’re both freshly cleaned from a shower. Once again, his plush robe swallows my body and my damp hair lies around my shoulders. I’m perched on the bathroom vanity with Harris teaching me to affix his tie.

  The night’s rest gives me a fresh set of eyes to consider my fears about Claire and Jared. Now I’m calm. What tricks can Claire and Jared have left? Even after their worst schemes, I’m where I want to be. I need to rebuild my client base, but I have the friends, family, and love. They cannot be taken from me.

  “This is a Windsor knot,” Harris mutters, pulling me out of my thoughts. Our eyes meet while I hold the two ends of his tie in my hands, and I know that I’ve got that lovesick look on my face when he rewards me with his arrogant grin. Blinking out of his hypnotic gaze, I drop my eyes to his neck. He gives step-by-step instructions. When I’m finished, he covers my hands with his own as I attempt to tighten the knot carefully and draw it to his collar. I smile proudly when the mini-diamond patterned tie rests correctly on his chest.

  “I could go pro at this,” I declare.

  “But then you’d leave me to travel around the world tying ties for unsuspecting men. And I’d be so lonely, electric Edith. Do you really want to leave me lonely?” He gestures down the length of his body, the dark navy suit.

  I pretend to ponder his question, even giving a hum of consideration until he reaches for my foot and begins tickling the arch.

  “Stop! Stop!” I gasp through my laughter. “I could never leave you,” I tell him seriously.

  “That’s right,” he announces.

  He strides out of the bathroom and I hop off the counter to follow him through the bedroom and toward the kitchen. He collects his briefcase from the counter, holding the leather bag in one hand. With one arm draped over my shoulder, he steers us into the foyer.

  “Marcus driving you to the Mart today?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’ll call me if you need me?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’ll let me know what plans you have with Luke?”

  With a patient smile, I nod my acquiescence. “I will. But Harris?”

  “I’m being controlling again, I know.” He shakes his head ruefully. “You’re that precious to me, Edith. I know it’s overbearing, but I’m on edge what with Claire and Jared…”

  “I know, Harris, but that’s not what I was going to tell you.”

  He’s sheepish as he presses the elevator button and the doors whisk open. “Please go ahead, baby.”

  “I believe what you said yesterday, that this will soon be nothing more than a memory.” Then, I press up on my toes and slide my hands along his biceps until they rest on the backs of his shoulders.

  “You should. Nothing bad will happen, I promise.” He captures my lips in one last lingering kiss, then I release him and plop back down on flat feet.

  “Have a great day,” I tell him with a little wave.

  His response is a wink so sly I’m left wondering if it was just my imagination as the elevator doors quietly close.

  Twirling around, I leisurely stroll through the apartment. On my agenda today is kicking my fledging career in the rear. Last night, Betty from Harris’ office sent me an email and I need to respond to her right away. I’m debating calling Melinda Fletcher for one more shot at her business. Based on my conversation with Amanda yesterday, it sounds like there may be a chance to regain that client. Late this afternoon I have a meeting scheduled at the Merchandise Mart to tour a showroom restricted to the average Mart wanderer. They’ve agreed to a feature in my blog, thinking it will add to their mystique. I’m hoping that out of this tour, I may find new connections.

  The clock hasn’t struck seven yet, so I decide it’s too early to ask Luke if he wants to meet up this evening. I wander into the kitchen and am about to make myself breakfast when my phone chirps from where I left it in the living room. I unlock the device to find a disturbing message. Then almost immediately, I receive a follow up text.

  Claire: Having fun playing house?

  Claire: It won’t last forever.

  With shaking hands, I dial Harris.

  “Miss me already?” He answers.

  “Claire texted me.”

  “What did she say?” His voice turns to steel.

  “I’ll forward them to you.”

  A flurry of touch screen strokes later, he has the messages.

  “What’s happening to my sister?” he mutters, more to himself than me. Then he snaps to attention. “Don’t think twice about this shit. Ignore her. I’ll get in touch with my guy and find out where she is.”

  Worrying my bottom lip between my teeth, I mutter, “Okay.”

  “I’ll let you know the minute I hear something,” he tells me. Then we sign off the call.

  I stare at the message, the fear building in my stomach switching to resentment. Who does she think she is? Despite Harris’ instruction to disregard Claire, my emotions assumes control, and my thumbs fly across the screen as I type my anger-fueled response.

  Eddie: Enough with the bogus threats, Claire. Accept that Harris and I are together. We’re really happy, and I want you to be happy for us too.

  Claire: Denial doesn’t suit you, little mouse.

  “I hate that nickname,” I grumble at the phone, deciding that another response is unnecessary. I drop it into the robe’s deep pocket.

  Breakfast forgotten, I trudge into Harris’ office and set up my laptop on his desk. When the computer comes to life, I log into my email and begin responding to messages. On the bright side, another local interior design blogger responded to an email I sent her yesterday. Trying to forget about Claire, I bury myself in correspondence and blog updates. An hour floats by, and now it’s an acceptable time to contact Jared and Sean about tonight.

  I launch a group text.

  Eddie: Want to hang out tonight? I could review your applications if you’d like.

  Sean: I can’t, doll. We’re having a goodbye dinner for one of my co-wo
rkers.

  Eddie: Bummer.

  Luke: Let’s do it!

  Eddie: Would it be weird if you came over here? I can cook.

  Sean: Not fair! You can’t cuddle AND cook dinner together.

  Eddie: :P

  Sean: So rude!

  Luke: Not weird for me. I was the one who oversaw the move-in.

  Eddie: Come over at 7:30?

  Luke: Looking forward to it.

  Sean: People, I’m still here!

  Eddie: We’ll miss you.

  Luke: Fact.

  Sean: Yeah, yeah, yeah.

  I begin to search through some of my favorite saved recipes for something to prepare for Luke. When I find a spaghetti squash and meatball recipe I think he’ll like, I begin scribbling a grocery list on a scrap piece of paper. I’m finishing my list when my cell phone rings. Melinda Fletcher calling, it says.

  What?

  “Hello?” I answer hesitantly.

  “Yes, hello, Eddie. This is Mrs. Fletcher.”

  I resist the urge to tell her that I know because I have caller ID. “Good morning, Mrs. Fletcher. What can I do for you?”

  She clears her throat nosily. “I will skip over pleasantries and tell you exactly why I’m calling.” Good. “Over the weekend, Amanda McDaniel phoned to untangle”—she pauses, searching for the right phrasing—“some mistruths that we had both heard about you. She spoke very highly of you and mentioned that if it were not for her relocation, she would have begged for you to continue the renovation of her guest bedrooms. Now, if you were willing to do a trial basis and an interview with both my husband and me, we would like you to try working for us again.”

  “Excuse me?” I splutter.

  She sniffs, affronted. “Obviously I can’t hire you concretely unless I see with my own eyes that you—”

  No way am I going to beg for this job. I’m long past needing an audition to gain her business. I’m not the doormat I once was; she can’t play with me this way. I’d rather work for half my usual commission.