“That doesn’t sound like a waste of a life to me. I imagine you would agree with that, correct? You don’t think your mother wasted her life, do you?”
“No, of course not.” I’d not been aware that some feeling of guilt had been lingering when I thought of going to work at Lavender Petals. That I truly was wasting all I’d worked for. That I was throwing it all away. And I supposed I was. Throwing away all the things others had told me to be and do. Finally.
“As far as flower shops or not, Harrison, even if you do know how you like your eggs”—he winked—“you may discover new likes and dislikes in the flower shop. Maybe what you want is exactly what your mother did. Or maybe it will change. Maybe it’s using flowers in a different way than she did, or maybe it’s simply creating beautiful things. I don’t know. But you’re starting down that path. I can’t help but believe that she would be happy for you, and proud of you.”
It was several moments before I attempted words. Maybe I had needed to talk about my first day at Lavender Petals, even though I thought I was avoiding what I really needed to talk about. When I had my emotions mostly under control, I launched in, aware there wasn’t much time left in our session. “Adrian has started texting me every once in a while. Sometimes leaving notes at the bookshop with Jasper.”
Donovan didn’t miss a beat at the change in topic. “In a way that’s making you uncomfortable?”
“No. Not at all.” As I spoke the words, I realized that wasn’t true. “Actually, yes. But not uncomfortable in a way that has anything to do with him, necessarily. He’s not being overly pushy. He’s not asking for anything. Not a thing. He’s not asked for a date, he’s not suggested we get together. Just texts and notes saying that he wants me to know that he loves me. That he hopes I’m happy.”
“In what way does that make you uncomfortable?”
“I don’t know.” I paused, hoping Donovan would jump in.
He didn’t.
How did it make me uncomfortable? I wasn’t entirely sure. Without knowing where I was headed, I just started to speak. “I tried to get in contact with Will a couple more times since his interview. To apologize, to try to explain. He still won’t return my calls. Nothing. I don’t blame him. I know I hurt him.”
Donovan nodded, scribbled something, then looked up, waiting patiently. Still no lifeline.
“With Adrian, he’s….” Again, emotion threatened to render me mute, and I pushed past it. “He’s already forgiven me. And is telling me over and over again that he loves me. That he just wants me to be happy. And I know that he thinks he wants me to be happy with him, but I also believe, ultimately, that he genuinely wants me to be happy with or without him.”
Donovan started to write again, then paused as he looked up once more, though this time he sounded confused. “You know that Adrian thinks he wants you to be happy with him? You think he might be wrong?”
“Of course he’s wrong.” Fuck. There was no way to hold back the tears. “You’ve fucking got me going through a list of things I like and don’t like, and some of them I don’t even know. Like you said, I’ve got twenty years to make up for. If I don’t know myself, how the fuck could Adrian know me enough to truly love me? The man he loves isn’t real.”
Donovan considered for a long time, then leveled his gaze on me again. “I hesitate to suggest this, as I am not pushing you to get back together with Adrian nor am I saying that you shouldn’t. But as you discover yourself—things that truly make Harrison the man he was both born to be and wants to be—you may find it enlightening to inquire what it is people love about you.”
That was a horrifying thought. “You actually want me to ask Adrian for a list of things he loves about me?”
He shrugged. “Wouldn’t have to be in that format, necessarily. But yes, kind of. And not just Adrian. Other people around you. Jasper. Mabel and Sapphire. In so doing, you may learn some things that are true about yourself that you weren’t sure of.” Donovan’s tone grew cautious. “The other side of the coin is that you may discover those in your life who value you for things that aren’t truly you.”
There was little risk of that, considering how few people I still had in my life. However, I couldn’t imagine the hurt if that proved to be true of Adrian.
I nodded slowly, considering. Dreading.
“This isn’t an assignment, Harrison. Truly, last week’s wasn’t either. You are in complete control. Just because I make a suggestion, doesn’t mean that it’s something you have to do. At the end of the day, more than anything else, this is your life. You get to make of it what you want.”
We talked some more, a little about Adrian, about my mother and the boxes of irises waiting patiently in the darkness of my closet for a right time to return to the ground, of how to handle if memories from the past suddenly sprang up as I worked at Lavender Petals. And then the time was over.
Maybe it was silly, but I looked over at the window, expecting the little squirrel to be there waving goodbye. He wasn’t.
“Out of curiosity”—Donovan placed his notepad on the table beside his armchair as he stood—“how do you like your eggs cooked?”
Simple question. “Scrambled egg whites, with kale, avocado, and chard.”
Donovan’s brows knitted and then he seemed to catch himself and forced a smile. “Oh.”
Even though his expression made me laugh, something inside warned that I shouldn’t ask my next question. “That surprises you?”
For a second, I thought he wasn’t going to respond, and again he sounded hesitant when he finally spoke. “Did you discover that particular recipe when you were in your modeling phase?”
“I did. What I had every morning. Still do.”
He blinked repeatedly. “Well, you are most definitely the first person I’ve ever met who said egg whites were their favorite, especially combined with chard.”
My heart sank. “Well, shit. They’re not actually my favorite, are they?”
He chuckled and shrugged. “That’s not for me to say, Harrison.”
I rolled my eyes. “Just call me Julia.”
Twenty-Six
Adrian
It was done. Each brick inside and out had been repaired, stabilized, and stained. The copper roof shone like a sunset. Every single pane of glass was new, secured, and crystal clear. A couple of days before, I’d planted jasmine on opposite sides, so it would grow up and meet at the top. The final touch had been the installation of the two white, narrow french doors that replaced the rotted one I’d kicked open a brief lifetime ago.
I dusted my hands on my jeans and took a few more steps back into the field to survey my handiwork. The glasshouse was beautiful. Still a complete waste of space in the middle of a farm, but beautiful. And empty.
Knowing that I only had a few minor things to accomplish before the glasshouse was done, the night before I’d taken out Alex’s journals again. I hadn’t really been sure what I was looking for, if anything. I think I was nervous about being finished. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I’d envisioned this moment, for weeks. That when I finished the glasshouse, when it was perfect, Harrison would come strolling across the field as my reward. As some sort of confirmation that I hadn’t lost my mind in refurbishing the broken-down greenhouse for no goddamn reason.
Maybe it was because of reading through Alex’s writings that I didn’t break when Harrison didn’t arrive as if by magic. Despite the pain that had been such a frequent friend to Alex and Alan, I’d envied them. Though not easy, they’d had an entire life together. I knew I wasn’t guaranteed any such thing with Harrison. Nothing more than the few months we’d already had.
The trees around the glasshouse were starting to turn, the hints of gold in their leaves mimicking the copper of the roof. A gleaming shrine in the middle of nowhere. That’s what I’d accomplished. Just like Alex, who’d kept his deteriorating mansion as a shrine to Alan after he’d passed, so had I crafted a box of metal, brick, and glass to hold the memory of wh
at had slipped through my fingers.
That was fucked-up. I was fucked-up.
Whatever.
Fucked-up or not, the glasshouse was beautiful. I didn’t know if Harrison would ever see it, but I was certain he would approve. Though having it sit there empty felt wrong.
If it was a shrine, it couldn’t be empty.
And with that thought, I realized there was one more job to do. One more thing needed. Even if it was the nail in the coffin confirming that I was truly and irreparably broken.
I parked on the east side of downtown, on the corner of Lavender Lane and Ocean Way so I wouldn’t have to walk by Lavender Pages. If I happened to see Harrison inside, I would lose all the willpower I’d managed to cling to. He’d asked for space. I’d given it to him. As much as I could. Just notes and messages every now and then, hopefully not enough to drive him crazy or be annoying. I wanted to make sure that he knew I loved him. And that even if he walked away, I wasn’t going to turn my back.
I wasn’t sure if that was too pushy or not but showing up unbidden at the bookshop clearly would be the wrong call.
I paused in front of Lavender Petals, inspecting the window display. The arrangement Harrison had liked before wasn’t there. That had been a silly expectation. In fact, now that I thought about it, maybe this was a dumb idea entirely. I wasn’t sure if Lavender Petals only carried cut flowers or if they had potted ones as well. Should’ve called first. Nevertheless, I was already there. If the glasshouse was going to be a shrine, then I knew what it needed inside. Harrison had always talked about irises. Especially when he spoke about his mom and his childhood. If Lavender Petals didn’t have one of the plants in stock, maybe they could order one. And if nothing else, maybe they’d have a planter that would be worthy of sitting in the middle of a shrine in the middle of nowhere.
Fuck. I needed therapy. If this was what love did to a person, they should really create a vaccine for it. Even if they did, it was too late for me. I was infected; might as well give in.
I pushed open the doors to Lavender Petals and stepped in to the soft chime overhead. Just that sound, though Harrison and I had only been here once before, tugged at my heart.
Weaving through the path in the tiny rainforest, I made my way to the counter to find Sapphire working on an arrangement of daisies.
“Welcome to Lavender Petals, one second.” She didn’t glance up as she pulled out one of the flowers, snipped a little off the stem, and then shoved it back in. Finally, she looked up at me. “How can I—” Her eyes grew wide. “Oh! Adrian.” She focused over her shoulder, then back at me, sounding panicked. “I… um….”
The door behind her swung open, catching my attention, and Harrison stepped out from the back of the shop.
I flinched and froze. I had to be seeing things.
He took one step toward Sapphire, glanced over at me, and froze as well.
For her part, Sapphire gaped back and forth between the two of us several times, not even attempting to be subtle, and then laid the clippers she held in one hand on the counter, picked them back up, and motioned to the doorway from which Harrison had just emerged. “I’m… just going to leave you two alone.” And with that, she stepped around Harrison and disappeared.
I didn’t know for how long, but the two of us just stared at each other.
It couldn’t have been possible, as he was never out of my mind, but it seemed I’d forgotten just how beautiful the man was. He seemed a little taller, a little brighter. And, somehow, was able to make a lavender apron look sexy in a way that defied every law of fashion. But even more than his beauty, was his ability to cause my insides to both crumble in misery and sigh in relief. I’d needed to see him so badly, yet it hurt.
This was the agony Micah had told me about. Or at least another flavor of it. He’d been right. Knowing that Harrison was just a few blocks away from me at all times had been a bitter torture. But now, seeing him, yet unable to touch him, was a sweet agony. Nearly unbearable.
“Adrian.”
Goddammit, I heard longing behind the surprise in his voice. Hope.
I took a step back. “Sorry. I never thought about you being here. I just came to get a….” I motioned over my shoulder toward the door. “I really wasn’t trying to invade your space or anything. I didn’t know you—” I glanced down at his apron again, wondering the why of it. “—were here. Sorry.”
I turned around and made it a good two feet before his voice stopped me. “Wait. Please.”
Was I still hearing hope in those words?
“You don’t need to be sorry. There was no way you could know.” He’d moved to the counter, and his chest heaved slightly as he spoke, as if he was struggling to breathe. “Today is my first day working here.”
“Your first day…?” I glanced around as if checking to make sure we were still in the flower shop.
To my surprise, he smiled and then actually laughed. “You heard me right. I work here now.”
For a moment it was the most preposterous thing I’d ever heard, and then… it wasn’t. In fact, it made complete sense. I’d just finished a glasshouse shrine to the man, after all. Where else would he be? “Now you can be surrounded by irises as much as you want. Sounds perfect.”
Harrison sucked in a breath and then nodded. “Yeah. Something like that.”
We stared at each other again. And maybe I truly was delusional, but I saw hope in his eyes. Longing. And I could feel it. Just as sure as the thunder and lightning had crackled the day we’d gotten together, it arced between us in the middle of that shop. I could feel his body’s desire and lust call to mine. More than that, I felt longing, could see it. But mixed in, maybe to a larger degree, was fear.
I motioned over my shoulder again. “It was good to see you. But you asked for space. I wasn’t trying to invade that.”
“No, wait. Please.” Harrison walked around the counter but stopped several feet from me, and though I was even more certain of the longing I saw, I also realized he was on the verge of running again. He licked his lips and took a breath. “I got your notes, your texts.”
I waited for more, waited for him to tell me to stop. To leave him alone.
He didn’t.
I decided to risk it. “I meant them. I mean them.”
“I’m sorry, Adrian. Sorry for the way I left. Sorry that I hurt you.” He winced. “I’m sorry the first time I told you I loved you was when I was running away.”
I wanted to latch on to that. Point out that he’d sort of just said that he loved me, again. But I wasn’t sure if that was true. I couldn’t risk that much. “You don’t have to be sorry, Harrison. As I’ve said in my messages, I’m not angry.”
“Okay, good.” He inspected me for a second then sighed and looked away. “That’s good.”
I could feel him pulling back. Apology done, forgiveness granted. He was going to turn, walk behind that counter and become a florist or some shit.
Maybe my shrine didn’t have to be empty. Maybe it did, but I needed to find out. If I didn’t risk right that second, the glasshouse was guaranteed to have nothing in it but a solitary potted iris. And I would never be sure if it could’ve had more. “I still mean everything I’ve said in those texts, Harrison. I love you.”
He stiffened, and his brown gaze flashed to mine again. And all the emotions I’d felt from him were visible, along with countless others. So many that I couldn’t tell what was winning out.
I had no choice but to keep going. “That doesn’t mean you have to feel the same. It doesn’t mean you have to respond. But I just want you to know. I love you. Even if I’m not the person you need or want… if it makes me weak, my heart has chosen you. Or something like that, I can’t explain it, but it doesn’t make it not true. And it’ll be true years from now. It’ll be true whether you feel it for me or not.” It was taking every ounce of my power not to close the distance between us, not to take his hands. Not to try to kiss him to prove my sincerity in some better way than
my feeble words. “You don’t have to respond. You don’t have to… do anything. I just need you to know.”
A tear made its way down his cheek, and his whole body trembled, like it was an act of will to remain in one spot and not flee in the opposite direction.
“I just needed you to know.” I heard the defeat in my voice and knew it was over. It didn’t change the truth in what I’d said. He was it, whether it made sense or not, whether I ended up cursing that fact later on or not, it was what it was. And it was over. I turned to go once more.
“Why?”
His solitary word was so quiet that I barely trusted that I’d heard correctly. I turned back to him. “What?”
“Why?” His trembling had increased, and his fists were clenched at his sides. “Why do you love me? Why do you think you do?”
Was he serious? How could he even wonder?
I moved to him, ready to grip his shoulders, to force him to look me in the eyes, to make him hear, to make him understand. I barely stopped myself, coming to a halt inches from him, clenching my own hands into fists. “Because you’re beautiful.” He started to shake his head, but I pushed on. “Inside and out, Harrison Getty, you are beautiful. You are kind and good. The devotion you have to your brother. The way you’ve protected him, the way you love him. Your gentleness. All your strength and bravery. And beyond that, in ways I can’t even explain or understand. In ways that aren’t a choice. I just love you.”
“Brave?” He gave that dismissive snort of his, though this time it was filled with disgust. “You’re actually going to try to say that you love me because I’m brave? What makes me so brave, Adrian? That I didn’t have the strength to come out, to be honest with who I was until I was shoved out of the closet with the sex video? Am I brave because I ran away from my fiancé at the very last minute in front of the entire fucking world? Am I so brave because I ran away from you, left you in the middle of the street? You’re really going to ask me to believe that you love me because I’m brave?”
The Glasshouse (Lavender Shores Book 6) Page 26
