by MJ Summers
“Need a hand?” he asked, leaning on his cane and holding open the door.
Harper nodded, tears streaming down her face. Shoving her things into the front entry, she let a loud sob escape her. Her dad slid her bags out of the way, making room for more. When she finally had everything inside and had closed the door behind her, Roy pulled her in for a long hug, patting her on the back and making shushing sounds. “It’s okay, Harper. It’s all going to be okay.”
“No, it won’t. He just broke up with me.” Humiliation and the pain of rejection mixed around in her empty stomach, making her feel completely nauseous. This was the worst feeling she’d experienced in her adult life. Harper buried her face in her dad’s shoulder, feeling like a little girl again. He was here for her in her darkest moment, just like he always had been, and she knew that he would see her through this.
After a few minutes, she straightened up, drawing a long, deep breath before giving her dad a big nod. “I’m going to be fine, Dad. I actually have to get to work. I’m in the middle of a huge crisis at the magazine.”
“When it rains, it pours, huh?” he replied. “Anything I can do?”
“No thanks. If you don’t mind, I’m going to get set up at the kitchen table and get back to work.”
“Of course,” he answered. “I’ll try to stay out of your way.”
An hour later, Harper was still working, in spite of the occasional stream of tears that escaped her eyes. She wiped them away and continued on, telling herself there would be plenty of time to cry later. She didn’t notice her dad making a pot of tea and some toast, but she did notice when a small plate and a mug were placed in front of her. Patting her shoulder with his large hand, he quietly told her to have something to eat.
“Thanks, Dad. I will,” Harper said.
“Good. I could hear your stomach growling from the living room. I could hardly hear the game over it,” he said with a little wink in her direction.
An hour later she finished up, closing her laptop with a heavy sigh. Her head pounded and her eyes burned with strain. Standing up slowly, she rolled her head from side to side, trying to work out the stiffness in her neck before making her way to the front entry to gather up her things. Her bags were gone. She looked over at her dad, who was watching her from his recliner.
“I put your things in your room for you.”
“Dad, you didn’t have to—” Her words were stopped by his raised hand.
“I wanted to. Now go get some rest. You look like hell.”
Harper nodded, her eyes welling up again. “I’ve been hearing that a lot this weekend,” she answered sadly. “Thanks for everything, Dad.”
* * *
At that moment, Evan sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the diamond ring he’d bought Harper a few weeks earlier. His heart felt like someone was squeezing it from the inside. He’d never felt such a profound sense of loss in his life. For the past two hours, his mind had been going over what had just happened. The ugly scene repeated itself on a loop, as though some part of his brain was trying to give him a clue as to what he should do next. He refused to listen, though. He had made the right decision by ending things. Harper belonged back in her old life and he would never stand in the way of that. She needed to go live her dreams, and if he hadn’t ended it, she might just have sacrificed everything she’d ever wanted and end up hating him for it later. Better to have her hate him now than when it would be too late for her to step back into her life in New York. So he had pushed her away with both hands.
He tried to convince himself that he’d been just fine before she came along and he’d be fine again without her. That he didn’t need a self-involved, work-obsessed woman taking up space in his life. He wasn’t going to curl up and die over her, either. Deep down, he knew these were all lies, but maybe if he repeated them to himself enough he’d start to believe them.
Sending her away was by far the worst thing he’d ever done. She was the love of his life and now she was gone. Even though things were as they had to be, he had no idea how he’d ever get over this. Get over her. For tonight, it would take every ounce of strength he had to stop himself from rushing next door and begging her to stay. He would have to keep telling himself over and over that this was for the best.
Thirty-Three
Harper’s heart pounded in her chest when she saw the truck pull up. Evan was home. She’d been trying to concentrate on her work all day without any luck. She had made plans to move back to New York on Saturday, but she would need to survive five more days here until then. Five days with him right next door.
How was she supposed to go that long being so close to him and not make a complete ass of herself? In her mind, it was pretty much a foregone conclusion that she would drink too much wine on at least one of the next few nights and completely lose her inhibitions. That would lead to her either throwing herself at him or pounding on his door to scream in his face, depending on whether the wine brought out the sad, lonely Harper or the angry, hurt version. As she watched him from the safety of her darkened bedroom, her knees felt weak. He was so close that she could just open the window and call out to him. She wouldn’t even have to yell. She could just say his name and he’d look up at her. But she couldn’t. She wouldn’t. And it almost killed her to be so close to the only man that she’d ever loved but not be able to do so much as call out his name.
Evan’s shoulders slumped as he unloaded his duffel bag from the back seat of his truck. He glanced at Harper’s bedroom window, causing her to duck out of sight. Shit. He probably saw me. If there was one thing that Harper couldn’t afford right now, it was for him to think she was pining away over him. She needed to appear strong, breezy and carefree. There was no way she’d let him see that she had been completely crushed when he ended things. If he knew, he would pity her, maybe enough to be kind to her. And that was something she definitely couldn’t have. If he was kind, she’d start hoping, and hope would lead to trying to get him back. And that was something her pride and sense of self-protection would never allow her to do. He sure as hell didn’t want her and she would have to just keep reminding herself of that until she actually stopped wanting him.
But how long would that be, anyway? How could she stop needing someone she’d always needed? Especially after months of knowing the perfection that being with him could be. Months of sharing the same bed, sharing meals, sharing plans and hopes and dreams and disappointments. Maybe it wouldn’t take that long. She was strong, after all, and she did have a new life to focus on. She would throw herself into her work until she had him out of her system. But for now, she had to keep a level head. That would mean absolutely no drinking. Well, maybe she’d just finish this last glass of wine in her hand. Then she would call it quits until she was sure she wouldn’t throw herself at his feet and beg him to take her back.
Two hours later, Harper passed out on her bed, fully clothed and full of wine. Her last thought as she drifted off was that she had done it. She had made it through one evening next door to him without making a fool of herself. Only three more to go.
* * *
Evan lay awake in his bed for hours, even though he was tired from work. He tossed and turned, trying in vain to find a comfortable position. Suddenly it occurred to him that he could smell Harper’s perfume, and the memories it brought were making him ache. Stupid perfume. Who the hell invented that, anyway? Was it for the sole purpose of torturing men? Getting up, he turned the light on and tugged the sheets off the bed, replacing them, along with the pillowcases, with fresh linens. That ought to do it, he thought as he balled up the sheets and tossed them into the laundry hamper.
Lying back down, he forced himself not to notice how empty the bed, the room, the house was without her. He would have to survive, knowing she was right next door, without going over to beg her to forgive him and to stay. As much as he knew that he was right about her wanting her old life back, he still wanted nothing more than to have her stay. For good. The thought of he
r going back to New York brought both relief and pain. She would be gone and she would move on.
In his estimation, it wouldn’t take long for a woman as beautiful and fun and smart as her to find someone new. The thought gutted him. She was supposed to want to be with him. Wasn’t that what people did when they found “the one”? They found a way to make things work, they made sacrifices and they stayed together.
He would need to just keep reminding himself over and over again that this was for the best. He was giving her what she needed. That would keep him from rushing to her, wrapping his arms around her, kissing her and asking her to stay. He had been right, and that meant he could keep his pride this time around. He might be broken-hearted but at least his dignity was intact.
* * *
Harper spent the next four days living outside her body. Every morning she woke and took extra care with her makeup, hair and clothing, just in case she ran into him. Her stomach flipped every time she walked out the front door or pulled up in front of her house. What if he was there? What would she say? Best to look amazing, say nothing and keep going.
She was going to have to keep going with or without him. Life wasn’t about to stop just because Evan Donovan had stopped wanting her. She had to move on and start getting excited about the possibilities that life had for her. Her dad was doing so much better and they were closer than they had been in years. She was setting off to go live her dreams. She should be happy. Then why did she have no energy by suppertime, choosing to crawl into bed rather than eat? When had food lost its flavour? When would her passion for life return? Surely he couldn’t have taken that with him.
On Friday morning Harper walked out the door on her way to Megan’s. Her stomach lurched. Evan’s truck was parked out front and he was just getting out, moving quickly as though he had forgotten something. He wasn’t supposed to be there. She had planned carefully each morning so that she wouldn’t leave the house until after his truck was gone. But there he was, looking so handsome that the very sight of him shattered what was left of her heart. She stood frozen on the step, hoping he wouldn’t see her. Hoping he wouldn’t think that she had been waiting for him. He glanced up at her, stopping in his tracks for a moment, his face impossible to read. Was that pain? Or anger? Or longing? No, that can’t be it, dummy. He doesn’t want you anymore.
Harper gave him a terse nod and made her way down the stairs, commanding her body to move gracefully. She had been at enough photo shoots to know how to carry herself in a way that exuded confidence with a slight edge of “you can’t have this.” She knew she looked her best, having put on tall brown leather boots, a cream-coloured knit dress and a luxurious cashmere crepe coat by Derek Lam. She was doing a convincing job of it right up until her ankle buckled and her body did that quick, awkward tilt-to-the-side thing. Wincing with embarrassment and pain, she continued like nothing had happened. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Evan standing on the road, watching her. She let out a rush of air as she slammed the door to her car and watched him jog up the steps and disappear into his house. Turning the key in the ignition, she wiped a tear from her eye, blinking quickly in an effort to stop the others that were waiting to fall. No. I am not ruining my Dior mascara over that dick. He’s not worth it. Get on with it.
* * *
Evan leaned against the door, feeling like he had just had the wind knocked out of him. There she was, his beautiful Harper, looking so soft and touchable. Why the hell did she have to curl her hair like that? Where was she going looking like that? Why did she have to leave? Why couldn’t she just be gone already?
He had seen her ankle give out, and instead of finding it even remotely amusing, it had made him want to rush over to see if she was okay. He knew she’d be feeling humiliated, and the thought of not doing anything to make her feel better was almost unbearable.
Propelling himself forward, he walked to the kitchen to grab the file he had forgotten to bring for the inspector on his way to work earlier. He needed to start forgetting her.
* * *
That night, Evan stood in the cold of his backyard waiting for the barbecue to heat up. He was already on his third beer and was grateful for the buzz that dulled the pain. He threw two steaks onto the grill, along with some cut-up veggies in a foil container. It was a familiar ritual, one that he used to relish but it had been ruined, along with everything else, by Harper. He couldn’t enjoy it because it had been so much better with her. She was everywhere he went in his house: the pool table, the bed, the shower, the kitchen and even this spot on the deck where he was standing right now. She had ruined it all for him. And he hated her for it. She was like a tsunami that had washed over everything in his life, and now that she had pulled back, nothing would be the same again.
Just as he was about to go inside, he saw Roy walking out to his truck, using only a cane to steady himself. Draining his beer as he watched, he knew Harper was in the house alone now. Carrying his food inside, he set it down on the table and cracked open another bottle of beer. He then sat down to his meal, feeling every bit as alone as he was. He spotted the camera on the counter, still in the box, where she’d left it on Sunday night. Anger and pain stole his appetite for his favourite meal. Screw her. She couldn’t do this to him. Grabbing the camera, he stormed out of his house, crossed the lawn and banged on Harper’s front door loudly and continuously until she opened it. And there she stood, in her robe, hair dripping, no makeup, just how he loved her best. This was the real her and it was someone she’d let only him see. This wasn’t savvy, career-woman Harper. This was Harper, the woman who loved deeply and laughed loudly and cared so much. For an instant, he felt his love for her surge through him as he stared into her blue eyes. And then he remembered that she was all but gone, never to come back to him again. The pain that seared through him hardened his heart again, distorting his love into bitterness.
“You left this and I don’t want it,” he barked, shoving the camera into her hands, then turning away. He stopped suddenly and pivoted back around. “You know what? I was dead wrong. I thought I’d never regret being with you, but that’s all I’ve been doing this week. Being with you was a huge mistake. I wish you’d never come home!”
His words were weapons, each a grenade thrown with deadly accuracy. He could see in her face that he had aimed perfectly. His triumph dissolved almost instantly at the pained expression on her face as she opened her mouth to say something, then closed it, blinking back tears.
“No, don’t you dare cry. I am not going to feel sorry for you when this is all your fault. You don’t get to make me feel bad when you’re the one leaving.” He pointed at her as he ranted. “So off you go, Harper. I’m glad that you’re moving, actually. I should probably thank you, because you showed me your true colours before I did something really stupid, like—You know what? Forget it!”
He turned, jogged down a couple of steps, then turned and came back up. “You know what I just realized? You’re exactly like your mother! No, you’re worse than your mother. You’re a combination of her and Avery. Uppity, selfish and self-absorbed! You don’t give a shit who you hurt as long as you get what you want!”
They stared at each other, both wide-eyed with shock at his words. He’d gone too far and he knew it. He regretted the words as soon as they had left his mouth. He watched as she sucked in some air; he saw the pain in her eyes and how her body went rigid. Then she slowly shut the door, saving him from seeing any more. He stood for a moment, his legs cemented to the step, reeling from what he’d just done.
He had wanted a fight. He wanted her to say horrible things back, to give him a solid reason to hate her. If he could hate her, he could forget that he had ever loved her. But she hadn’t taken the bait. She hadn’t given him a fight, and that was nothing like her. Harper was a fighter. She’d always been a fighter, from the time he’d first seen her over twenty years ago. He could remember a moving truck parked in front of the house next door, and Harper and her brothers spilling o
ut of a station wagon behind it and onto the sidewalk in a full-out brawl. He had watched from his living room window as she delivered a blow to Craig’s chin and another quickly to his crotch, bringing her much bigger brother to his knees. In all the years he had known her, Harper had never backed down from a fight like she had just done now. And that all but broke his heart to see.
Beyond wanting a fight, deep down in a place he would never admit existed, he wanted her to tell him she had changed her mind about New York, that she could never leave him, no matter what opportunity came along. He wanted her to beg him to take her back, to tell him she wasn’t going. And if she had just done that, if she had promised to stay, he would have asked her to stay forever. He would have told her how sorry he was for every unkind word, every lie about wanting to be rid of her. And he would have picked her up and carried her back to his place so they could make love all night and go right back to where they were before her Manhattan magazine had come calling for her again. But she hadn’t done that either. No fight. No begging to be taken back. She had just stood there staring at him as though she didn’t know him at all. And this confused him more than anything else she could have done. Was she too devastated to fight, or had she never really cared at all?
* * *
Harper shut the door quietly and locked it before sliding to the floor and dissolving into tears, praying he couldn’t hear her sobs. How could he say such horrible things to her? He’d said she was worse than her mother. Maybe it was true. She didn’t know how to love. She had chosen her comfortable old life because it was what she wanted. Because it was safe.
She didn’t hear the back door open or her father come in. She was still a crumpled mess on the floor when she saw his feet in front of her and his cane next to his left foot. Wiping her tears, she watched as he rested his cane against the wall before leaning forward and reaching out for her. Placing her hands in his, she felt her dad’s firm grip as he hoisted her up to him and pulled her in for a long hug. Patting her on the back, Roy made gentle shushing sounds as she sobbed.
