Harbour (Runaway Home #1)

by Penelope Louleas

  I wait for Pierce’s response. His jaw is ticking; his eyes are wild. "Harbour, I'm really mad you let it get to that. I have a friend in the Melbourne Police Department. I'll call him and see what he recommends. I don't think we can get a restraining order based on a few notes but to be safe, you will go NOWHERE alone. Do you hear me? This isn't just about you anymore. You have a baby growing inside you; you protect him or her, and I’ll protect you. Just be vigilant. I'm going to call Matt."

  He leaves the room and I exhale the breath I'd been holding. I didn't have to deal with this shit in New York. My life is just a mess right now. It's exhausting. Thankfully, I start pre-natal yoga tomorrow. Maybe it will help teach me to stay calm and levelheaded during the pregnancy. I'm going to need it.

  ****

  My yoga class was surprisingly relaxing. I really enjoyed it. Thankfully, Pierce 'allowed' me to go alone. I have a feeling he has someone following me. After grabbing a juice and stopping at an adorable baby-clothing store for a few cute unisex pieces, I head back to the apartment. I quickly change and my mum picks me up for my doctor’s appointment, my first ultrasound. When I told my family about my pregnancy, they were ecstatic. Their reaction even topped Pierce's.! I'm so excited. I invited Pierce but he had to regretfully decline. He's been asked to pick up some big wig from the airport.

  I lie on the bed with my top rolled up and wait patiently for the scan to begin. The doctor covers my belly with the warm liquid and then places the rod in position. Not what I was expecting; isn't this stuff supposed to be cold?

  She rolls the rod around, and then I hear it: my baby's heartbeat. As the sound fills the room, tears roll down my face. Mum sits next to me smiling with her hand on her chest.

  The doctor prints a few pictures for me and also let me record some of the heartbeat audio on my phone. I leave with a huge smile, knowing that everything is going well with my little one.

  My mum drops me off but doesn't come in. She's watching Charlee tonight, so Adelaide and Dean can go out for dinner. As I enter the apartment, I instantly know something's up. My skin prickles and my heartbeat accelerates. He's here. I know it.

  I speed up and head to the lounge room and there he is, dressed in casual jeans and a T-shirt. Lincoln Whitmore. He came to Australia for me.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  I stand at the edge of the sofa, keeping distance between Lincoln and I. God, it's hard. He hurt me, but I miss him so much. After seeing our baby today, I was overcome by guilt. He would want to know; he would've wanted to be there.

  "Hi." The simple greeting is all I can muster.

  "Hi." I guess it's all he can come up with, too.

  "Where's Pierce?"

  "He's in the shower. I'm trying really hard not to run over there and hold you, Harbour, but I'm scared you'll push me away if I do."

  I'm scared I won't.

  "Yeah, that's probably not a good idea. What are you doing here?" I'm so shocked he's here, in this apartment; hell, in this country!

  "I told you I want you back. I'm here to prove it. I'll do whatever it takes. I want to explain why I did what I did. Why I was an asshole." He sinks down into the sofa and gestures for me to join him. I take the seat opposite. As I sit there, the photos of our baby burn a hole through my side. Not yet. I need to know he loves me and not just because I'm carrying his child. He runs his hands over his face and then rests his elbows on his knees.

  "I want to explain why I left. Even with my explanation I won't be worthy of your forgiveness, but I want to start somewhere. I need you to understand why I did what I did."

  I nod. I want to know too.

  "My grandfather, who I was named after, was a very traditional man. He taught me that as a man, we had certain responsibilities in life. He instilled ethics into my father, Ben and I. 'Work to live, don't live to work,' he would say, and, 'A real man takes care of what's his.' I always believed he was right, and I still do.

  "My grandfather wanted us to see how people less fortunate than us lived, so he arranged for Ben and I to do volunteer work at a women's refuge center. I met a lot of women and children in there who were victims of abuse and domestic violence. I also met single moms who had been struggling after their partners had left them. I was only seventeen, so I made friends with some of the other boys who came in with their moms. That's when I met Jax. He was the son of a rock star. I only found that out after knowing him for a year. He told me his father wanted nothing to do with him or his mom.

  "I took it upon myself to take Jax to one of his dad’s gigs, to show him what a great kid he left behind. When we got backstage, we witnessed things that seventeen-year-old boys thought only existed in the movies: sex, drugs and rock and roll. Literally. We managed to find his deadbeat dad in the middle of a blow job from a groupie around our age; not even legal.

  "Jax lost it, calling the man all kinds of names and telling him exactly what he thought. Turns out, his dad was impressed with his son, and he finally accepted him." Lincoln stands and begins to pace the room. He runs his hand through his hair and lets out a muttered curse. He stops and looks at me. His shoulders are sagging and his expression looks almost too pained to finish his story. He continues, though. "My mistake was thinking Jax was stronger and could resist the urges surrounding him. He couldn't. He died of an overdose on his eighteenth birthday; his mother killed herself the night of the funeral. I did that. "

  I gasp and put my hands over my mouth. He blames himself. "No, Lincoln, you were only trying to help."

  "By encouraging him to meet his 'sperm donor' I ruined their lives. I swore I would never do anything reckless like that again. I wouldn't be a father like that asshole, and dump my kid because I had a busy life. I would never treat my children or their mother like they were a burden. I'll admit, as much as it hurt me to leave you, if the baby were mine I would've lived with Rachael and our son. I couldn't bring myself to miss him growing up. I'd hate to receive a phone call telling me my son walked for the first time and I missed it. Or that he said his first word, and I wasn't there to hear it."

  I hate hearing that he considered living with her permanently. I hate that he blames himself for what happened to Jax and his mother, too. My heart breaks a little seeing the usually strong Lincoln tell a story that has haunted him. I can't tell him it’s not his fault again; he won't believe me, so I just stay silent, letting him finish. He sits back down opposite me and clears his throat before continuing.

  "One day in, I realized what good it would do our son if we didn't have a strong relationship. How would we explain to him that we sleep in separate beds? When he got older, how would we explain that we stayed together for him without making him feel like he ruined our lives? I couldn't do it, so twenty-four hours after I left you, I had contracts drawn up and ready to go. As soon as he was home, I was filing for joint custody. I realized I took the words of my grandfather and my experience with Jax and used them as an excuse for my behavior." He shakes his head and groans.

  "There's no excuse. I was a fucking idiot. I lost you. I left you there with no explanation. I let her pull me away from you, even though I knew she could be lying. I was scared of losing my son.

  "Please don't hold that against me. I panicked. I had planned to tell you so many times, but I just couldn't bring myself to do it. How do you tell your fiancée that your ex is pregnant and claiming it's yours without hurting her? I promised I'd never hurt you. I had arranged for my family to come over that night because I wanted to speak with everyone and tell them what was going on. I was trying to tell you earlier that night, too." He did try, and I threw up. This is too much . . .

  "Say something. Please, Harbour." His eyes are sad and pleading with me.

  "I understand why you did it but that doesn't make it okay. You're supposed to trust your partner, share everything with them, good or bad. Did you really think leaving me like that was the best option for me? " He shakes his head and looks down. "No, it wasn't. It was the best option for you. If you had e
xplained everything to me we could've worked it out like a team but instead, you just left. With her. You left your fiancée, the woman who loved you so much she would crawl on broken glass for you, to be with the woman who was 'supposedly' pregnant with your son." I stop for a moment because the anger welling up in me is ugly and I need to stay calm. "You hated her, Lincoln. She cheated on you for six months. The possibility of that child not being yours was very high and you ignored the facts; you ignored your families pleas and you left." Again I stop and just look at him for a moment. His eyes are wet from unshed tears and his body language is almost submissive. "You may think what you did was strong, but it was weak, Lincoln. You took the coward’s way out. She could've never kept your child from you; in fact, she probably would've given him to you because she's constantly on location with her job. Did you even want to know what I would've done? If you had spoken to me and told me you were looking at your options, I would've waited, Lincoln. I would've understood, but then you proposed to her and . . ."

  "I didn't propose! She told me if I didn't plan to marry her she'd give the child her last name and I couldn’t be present at the birth. I wanted to be there. I gave her the ring to appease her." I shake my head. I need a bath. I need to relax and clear my foggy brain.

  "This isn't the fifties, Lincoln. There are always other options. I still need time. I can't just run back into your arms because you want me to. What we had was perfect and now it's tainted." I stand up to leave as Pierce reenters the room.

  "Did you plan this?" I ask him in a hostile manner.

  "He said he was coming and wanted to talk to you, I figured with everything going on, you'd like to hear what he's got to say." He looks at Lincoln and then exhales deeply. His shoulders hunch forward and I know he is uncomfortable.

  "I'm going to take a bath. Lincoln, please leave. I have nothing else to say to you tonight. Thank you for coming, though." Polite as usual, Harbour.

  "Harbour, just answer one question and I'll leave. Do I have a chance? Tell me I haven't lost you forever." I rub my forehead and turn to him. He's standing again, but not as confidently as I'm used to seeing him. Lincoln always stands with his head high and shoulders firm but at the moment, he looks like he’s shrinking into himself.

  "Just give me time, Lincoln. Go home. I'll call you when I'm ready to talk." Then I turn to Pierce and give him the best stare-down I can. "And you. Don't do what he did. I love you; don't take that for granted. I don't like shit going on behind my back. Don't lie to me again. I'm serious, Pierce. Don't." I head for my room and leave them standing there. I hate secrets, and I don't appreciate being lied to. Withholding the truth is a lie until you reveal it.

  ****

  It's Monday morning and I've decided to walk to work. It's such a beautiful day, and I need some sunshine and fresh air. I spent all of Sunday in the apartment reading.

  I stop by a cafe to get myself a fresh juice and a coffee for Mr. Conners. He's still a little weird with me, and I'm hoping the caffeine will pep him up a bit.

  As I enter the office, it's quiet, no one has arrived yet. I check the time and realize I'm thirty minutes early. As I switch on my computer I hear talking in Mr. Conners’ office. Good, he's here.

  When he ends his call I take in his coffee and nearly drop it.

  "What are you doing here?" Why is Lincoln in Mr. Conners’ office?

  "I told you, I'm not going anywhere. Is that for me? Please say yes. Melbourne coffee is the best in the world." Is he serious?

  "No, it's not for you. It's for my boss."

  "So it is for me?" He grins.

  "Have you lost your mind? No. It's for Noah, Mr. Conners."

  "Well, he's on leave, and I'm replacing him, so if you don't mind, I'd love that coffee." He grins again. Am I still dreaming? Surely he's not replacing my boss to be closer to

  me?

  "Seriously, Lincoln, what are you doing here?" He stands and walks towards me but I remain where I am. I will not let him intimidate me. He reaches for the coffee and takes a huge drink from the cup. He then proceeds to cough and sputter.

  "What the hell is that?" I try to contain the giggle bubbling up but it's impossible. Through the laughter, I explain what he just drank.

  "It's a weak soy latte with no sugar."

  "Disgusting is what it is. Why would someone voluntarily drink that shit? Why would you let me drink it?" I continue laughing. I'm not sure if it's nerves or if my brain has just decided it's time to crack.

  "You didn't give me a chance. And anyway, you're being an ass. That'll teach you."

  He gives me a playful smirk and I feel my knees wobble slightly. Damn him. He takes another step forward but I retreat from the office. Over my shoulder I call out, "I'm early so I'll go get you a proper coffee." The walk will do me good.

  ****

  Here we go again. I feel like I'm experiencing déjà vu. We've been here before, just in New York, and under very different circumstances. When I returned with his coffee he told me Noah needed some time off and as he was in town, he offered to fill in. Two weeks; that's how long he'd be here. I wanted to pretend I was unhappy that he had inserted himself back into my life like this but I couldn't. Inside I was jumping for joy that I got to see him every day. I swore to myself that I'd remain professional.

  By Wednesday, we were getting along fine, even laughing together at one stage. It felt nice. Unfortunately, every time I received my daily flower delivery from the douchebag ex, Lincoln got angry and wouldn't speak to me. I didn't read the notes. I just kept them in my handbag to give to Pierce.

  On Friday, Pierce came home with a bloody lip.

  "We need to talk," he said as he took an ice-pack from the freezer for his face.

  "What happened? It wasn't Derek, was it?" I began to panic. I didn't read the notes. What if Pierce had decided to approach him? I'd hate to see what Derek looked like right now. Actually, I'd love it.

  "Not Derek, but did you get any deliveries today?"

  "Yes, but I paid the driver $20 to take the flowers to the children's hospital. I kept the card; I haven't opened it."

  "Good. I need to know something, Harbour. Is there a reason Lincoln doesn't know I'm gay? Did you not tell him on purpose?"

  "Oh my God! Lincoln hit you? Why?"

  "Because you told me you loved me in front of him, then you receive flowers every day. He's jealous and he thinks I'm fucking you." Pierce lets out a small laugh and I sit next to him to check his lip.

  "I never told him because it's not important. It doesn't define who you are. Let him think what he wants. Unless he's going to punch you again."

  "He didn't hit me hard. I think he felt bad afterwards. I've done a lot for him. Only to help you, though. I didn't set

  him straight, by the way."

  "Nice choice of words. Why not?"

  He sighs and takes my hand. "Because maybe it's good for him to feel hurt. Maybe he deserves to be the one on the other side of the shit stick. We can tell him when you're ready. In the meantime, use it to your advantage."

  "As fun as that sounds, that's not me. I can't lie to him." I kiss his cheek and give him back the ice-pack.

  "You look super-hot roughed up." I playfully wink at him as I head to my room.

  "Get ready, we need to leave for your mum’s in twenty minutes," he calls out.

  ****

  Lincoln knows me too well. I don't love flowers, I mean, they're pretty, but they die, and that's a bit depressing. Shoes are my thing, and Lincoln knows it. That's why every day this week I have received a delivery of shoes . . . Well, one shoe per day, actually. On Monday, I excitedly ripped the wrapping off and jumped in my seat when I saw the designer name on the box. I opened it to find one right shoe only. What the hell? I read the note: It's not beneath me to bribe you. I've had fun this last week. I feel like we're slowly moving forward. The other shoe is with me, Cindy; give me ten minutes of your time and I'll give you your shoe.

  So of course, I did. I wanted to spen
d time with him more than I wanted that shoe. In fact, I almost left the office without it . . . almost.

  On Tuesday, same deal, but for twenty minutes. Wednesday, it was lunch. On Thursday I was given a beautiful diamond earring; the matching one was given to me over dinner.

  Today was Friday, and I was excited to receive my delivery. Not for the gift, but to see what it would “cost” me to collect the missing item. I loved the time we were spending together. It felt like we were going back to the way things were in New York before the shit storm.

  The delivery comes and it's a stunning Louis Vuitton handbag. The note reads: There's a matching purse. But this will cost you. Come and stay with me tonight. I just need to hold you. Please, Harbour.

  I thought about it all day. I even called my sister for some honest advice. She called me an idiot for even needing to be convinced. In the end, the decision was clear. I want to spend the night with him. I want to fall asleep in his arms.

  I make my way to the Crown Towers and up to the presidential suite. Holy Crap. It’s twelve thousand dollars a night, and he's been here for nearly two weeks. What a waste of money.

  The butler lets me into the room and I gape at the lavish surroundings.

  "This is ridiculous," I mumble.

  "Only you would think the best hotel room in the city would be ridiculous." I turn and he's standing there in suit pants and a business shirt. I lick my lips as I take in his appearance. He's shirt is undone at the top, showing a small amount of his chest, and his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows. I'm not sure why, but the fact that he's barefoot arouses me instantly. I close my eyes and take a deep, shuddering breath. When I reopen them, he is standing there with his hands in his pockets, smirking at me.

  "Sorry, that was rude," I say.

  "What? Your distaste for my suite, or the fact that you're openly checking me out?" He winks and I swear I flood my panties. Jesus, Har! Stay strong.