by Nicola Marsh
Her dad paled. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, but it turns out I have vitiligo. It’s an autoimmune disease.”
“Oh no.” Lydia swayed like she was about to faint, and Alec reached out instantly, steadying her.
“It’s not as serious as it sounds. Basically, the cells that produce melanin are destroyed, hence the loss of pigment. I’ve been having phototherapy, which is UV treatment to re-pigment my skin, and using an ointment. I’ve had blood tests to check for other autoimmune conditions it can trigger, but I’m okay, which is good news.”
Her dad’s expression remained terrified while her mom fixed her with a pitying stare. “Why didn’t you tell me? Us? We’re your parents; we need to know things like this so we can help you.”
Feeling suitably chastised, like the time she’d ridden to Nishi’s house to show off her new bike without telling her folks where she was going, she nodded. “I should’ve told you, but you both had enough to handle, and there wasn’t anything you could do, really. I just had to get on with it and do the treatment.”
Lydia tut-tutted. “You still should have told us.”
“Yes, you should’ve,” Alec reinforced, slipping his arm around her waist again. “You’re our girl, and we love you. We’re always here for you, whatever is going on in our self-absorbed lives, okay?”
“I know,” Harper said, relieved she’d finally told her folks— though not the part where stress could trigger it—and happy to be part of another group hug.
When they disengaged, she said, “I should head back in. I think Manny’s gran wants to interrogate me.”
Her mom hesitated, before saying, “She seems like a lovely woman, but I get the feeling she’s very protective of Manny.”
“Why, did she say something?”
“Not really, just a general feeling,” Lydia said. “But you’ve got nothing to worry about. You’re amazing, and she’ll love you.”
If only Harper had her mom’s confidence.
60
Harper should’ve been floating.
She’d just celebrated her engagement to a lovely guy with her folks and closest friends, and had revealed the truth about her vitiligo to her parents. While she did feel lighter about the latter, the moment she spied Isadora sitting on the sofa, patting the empty space next to her, that familiar feeling of doubt was back.
Manny’s grandmother didn’t like her.
She usually had an inkling for these things and tended to overcompensate by trying to make the other person like her. It always ended badly. At thirty, she was too old to pretend to be someone she wasn’t, and if a person didn’t like her, they could go screw themselves.
She couldn’t take that attitude in this instance.
“Manish had to take a call from one of the residents at the hospital,” Izzy said, beckoning her over. “He’s taking it in his old bedroom for privacy.”
“Okay. I better start cleaning up—”
“Leave it. Sit. Let’s talk.”
Great, so much for escaping. Harper had no desire to wash platters and glasses, but anything to dodge the incoming inquisition. She’d seen Izzy talking to Lydia and Alec earlier, and by the intent expressions on her parents’ faces, Izzy had been grilling them too. And for her mom to mention a feeling about Izzy’s overprotectiveness . . . Harper braced for an interrogation.
“Is there anything I can get you? A cup of tea?”
“Can you make masala chai?”
Her first test, and by the glint in Izzy’s eyes, she’d asked her deliberately, knowing she’d fail.
“No, but I’m happy to take instruction. I’m a fast learner.”
Izzy shook her head. “Never mind. I’ll make it later. Let’s talk, just the two of us, while Manish is busy.”
Unable to come up with any other reasons to avoid this, Harper reluctantly sat next to Izzy.
“Did you enjoy the party?”
Izzy’s eyes narrowed and fixed on her with unerring precision. “More to the point, did you?”
Feeling like the older woman was setting a trap again, Harper nodded. “It was a lovely celebration.”
“If you can call it that.”
Izzy made a dismissive sound that had Harper on edge in an instant.
“What would you call it?”
“A farce.” Izzy eyeballed her, daring her to disagree, as Harper tried to mask her shock.
There was a huge difference between Izzy not liking her and being so blatantly rude.
“Why do you say that?”
“Because this engagement can’t be real. My grandson has eschewed many choices of a more suitable bride, then he meets you and asks you to marry him in a rush?”
Izzy pointedly glared at Harper’s belly. “Either you’re pregnant and he’s living up to his rescue complex, or he’s doing this for me.”
“I’m not pregnant,” Harper said, keeping a tentative hold on her temper. This woman meant everything to Manny, and she’d never get in the way of their relationship. But Harper expected civility, not these blunt proclamations like the older woman knew more than she did.
“Then my first supposition is right.” Izzy had the audacity to lay a comforting hand over hers. “I hate to tell you, my dear, but my grandson is only doing this because I’m seriously ill and he knows my dying wish is to see him married.”
“You’re wrong,” Harper blurted, snatching her hand out from under Izzy’s, appalled by the older woman’s rudeness.
Izzy arched an eyebrow. “Am I?”
Harper studied Izzy, looking for some sign of hatred, of intense dislike, for her to say something so outrageous. But all she saw was sadness mingling with resignation, as if Izzy didn’t want it to be this way.
“I have nothing against you personally. You and your family seem like lovely people, but you’re not suited to my grandson, and I don’t want him entering into marriage for the wrong reasons.”
Only doing this . . . dying wish . . . not suited . . . wrong reasons . . .
If Harper had any doubts before, Izzy had just played into each and every one of them.
Hell, Harper had had similar doubts herself. She had little in common with Manny. Would he tire of their differences? Why propose so quickly? Why marry when they could date first?
Hearing Izzy echo her doubts and articulate them so clearly made her want to cover her ears and yell la-la-la.
Izzy took her ongoing silence as permission to continue. “My grandson thinks he’s progressive and modern, but deep down he’s a traditionalist. He respects me and my wishes, and wants to give me what he thinks I want. But I don’t want him marrying you out of obligation. It isn’t right.”
What wasn’t right was Harper sitting here, helpless and frustrated and taking whatever this woman dished out. There was a fine line between respect and cowering, and she’d remained silent for too long.
“We both know Manny adores you, but it’s a shame you feel compelled to belittle what we share.” Harper stood, aiming for graceful, not surprised when her legs trembled. She really wanted to get the hell out of here. “Neither of us is obligated. We love each other—”
“Has he actually said those words to you?” Izzy interjected rudely. “Has he said ‘I love you’?”
“Of course.”
Harper’s rebuttal came quickly, a natural reaction to prove this woman wrong at any cost in the spur of the moment. But she wracked her memory, trying to remember if he’d actually said those three all-important words, and came up blank.
He’d said he’d fallen for her. He’d said he loved her body. He’d said he loved everything about her. Declarations she’d lapped up but mistakenly translated into I love you.
“You are lying to yourself.” Izzy gave a dismissive wave. “I’m counting on you to do the right thing and break this off, because Manish certainly
won’t. He thinks I want to see him married so badly he’ll do it with whoever happens to be handy.” Izzy jabbed a finger at her. “And right now, that’s you.”
Speechless, Harper gaped at the woman she’d hoped to win over. She understood older people lost their inhibitions sometimes and felt compelled to say whatever popped into their heads, but it sounded like Izzy actually believed the drivel she was spouting.
“Our relationship isn’t like musical chairs—”
“I need to rest,” Izzy said. “We’ll speak no more of this now, but you need to do what’s right.”
Right now, that meant Harper had to leave the room before she said something she’d regret.
61
Harper nodded off on the drive back to Manny’s place, and he let her sleep. It had been a big day, starting with her vitiligo revelation in the early hours of the morning, the party, tidying up, and now heading back to his place. At least, that’s what he hoped caused her tiredness.
Something hadn’t been right when he’d come back into the lounge room after taking that call from the hospital. Harper had been huddled in on herself like a wounded deer, and Izzy had been stiff and unyielding, refusing his offer of help to clear away. It was almost like she wanted to get rid of them, and he’d ignored her wishes, enlisting Harper’s help and ensuring the place was spotless and his grandmother ensconced in bed with a cup of masala chai before they left.
He hadn’t minded staying over and caring for her the last week, but it was nice to head back to his place with his fiancée, knowing he could chill.
When he pulled up out the front of his place, Harper instantly opened her eyes, and in that moment, he knew she’d been pretending. She hadn’t been sleeping; she’d been avoiding talking to him.
“What’s going on?”
He expected her to laugh off his concern, to fob him off, so when she snapped, “You tell me,” he reared back.
“Tell you what?”
“Apparently, your grandmother thinks you’re settling with me. That you had no intention of getting married, something Nishi and Arun concur with, by the way. That because it’s her dying wish to see you married and because she’s so ill that’s the only reason you asked me . . .”
She trailed off, horror widening her eyes. “Oh my god, that’s why you asked me before she went in for her surgery, isn’t it? You wanted to give her hope, something to focus on, to get her through it.”
She slapped her forehead. “I’m such an idiot,” she said, glaring at him like he was the last man on earth she wanted to be near let alone marry, and he sat there like a dummy, letting her vent, hating how she was partially right.
“She actually said I was a convenience, I just happened to be the one you were dating at the time and that’s why you asked. That we weren’t suited . . .” She trailed off, and he hated the sheen of tears in her eyes.
Numb, he let her rant, each word ramming home what a prick he was. He wanted to say all of it was a lie. That he never wanted to hurt her. That he cared for her deeply, more than he’d cared for any woman before.
He’d been committed to making this work. Harper had become a part of his world so quickly he couldn’t imagine her not in it.
But if Izzy knew the truth, did he have to go through with this?
The very fact his first instinct was to renege gave him his answer.
In that instant he knew he’d have to break Harper’s heart.
“Do you know you’ve never said you love me?” Harper pressed a hand to her chest, her devastated expression making him feel like the biggest bastard in the world. “And I’m so stupid I believed every slick word you said about falling for me. How could I have been so dumb?”
“You’re not stupid, you’re wonderful—”
“Shut the fuck up!”
He jumped at her sudden vehemence.
“Do you hear yourself? With everything I’ve just said, not once have you refuted it or tried to convince me I’m crazy or that you do, in fact, love me.” She shook her head. “The first words you say are I’m wonderful? Well, if I’m so freaking wonderful, why do you want to walk away from me?”
She’d given him a chance. A chance to say something to save their relationship. A chance he didn’t deserve.
“I don’t want to walk away from you.” He reached for her, and she shrank away until her back hit the passenger door. “You’re the best thing to ever happen to me.”
“But was your grandmother right? About why you asked me to marry you?”
Manny hated men who lied. He’d been privy to secrets at the hospital, wealthy consultants and specialists who earned seven figures a year and split their money between their real families and their mistresses. Those men thought nothing of lying. It soon became second nature, but he never understood their compulsion.
He loathed deceit, but in that moment, with Harper staring at him with a spark of hope, he wished he could lie.
“Yes,” he eventually said, hating how she crumpled, hugging her arms around her middle. “I’d already fallen for you and the timing seemed right and—”
“Don’t.” She held up her hand. “There’s no way you can justify what you did.”
“I know it seems harsh, but we’re so good together, and if we’d had a chance to date for longer I would’ve probably proposed—”
“Bullshit. You would’ve sabotaged us because . . .” She trailed off, her expression morphing from fury to devastation, her eyes filled with pain and disappointment—in him.
“Because why?”
“We’re done,” she said, fumbling for the handle to open the door. “You can courier my overnight bag over.”
He had to stop her.
He had to beg and plead and do whatever it took to save this.
But he was floundering, out of control, as helpless as he was when he lost the last woman he loved.
So he sat there like a jackass, flinching when she slammed the car door shut on him and their fleeting relationship.
62
Harper drove home in a daze.
What the hell had just happened?
One minute she was celebrating her engagement to a guy she loved, the next they’d broken up.
She didn’t blame his grandmother. Izzy had been right. She’d only been telling the truth, a truth Harper had probably recognized deep in her gut, in that place where instinct ruled, an instinct that should never be overridden by stupid pheromones.
She’d known this had happened too quickly, that it was too good to be true. But she’d gone along with it anyway, all in the name of love.
What a crock.
The unfortunate thing was, once she started to analyze this ridiculous relationship, she’d come to an even more sickening revelation.
Was Manny exactly like Colin?
She’d revealed herself to Manny, and the next day, he dumped her. Worse, he’d fooled her into believing it hadn’t mattered to him, that he adored her regardless.
At least that asshole Colin had the decency to not touch her once she showed him and had withdrawn before breaking up with her.
But Manny’s acceptance of the real her had made her fall in love with him even more, if that were possible, and that made him a hundred times worse bastard than Colin.
The rational side of her didn’t want to believe this was the case. Manny wasn’t that good of an actor. Then again, he’d conned her into getting engaged for the wrong reasons, so maybe he was?
Muttering a string of unladylike curses under her breath, she stomped inside and turned up the heat. Like that would do anything to ease the chill invading her body. Her cell rang as she tore open a fresh pack of Tim Tams, intent on demolishing all eleven of those little slices of chocolate heaven.
It better not be Manny. Then again, her cell had remained silent on the thirty-minute drive home, when a guy who wanted
to win her back would’ve called or texted nonstop.
His silence spoke volumes.
Resisting the urge to fling her cell across the kitchen, she glanced at the screen.
Mom.
Harper wanted to let the call go through to voice mail. She wasn’t in a fit state to talk to her mother. But if she didn’t answer, Lydia would think something was wrong; her mom had good instincts like that.
Like how Lydia had known something was wrong with Izzy and had warned Harper about it before she’d left the party.
She’d have to break the news to her parents sometime, and putting it off wouldn’t make the task any easier.
With a sigh, she picked up the phone and hit the “answer” button.
“Hey, Mom.”
Harper tried to inject as much fake enthusiasm into her voice, but predictably, Lydia wasn’t buying it.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing . . .” The lie ended on a sob, and the sorrow Harper had been holding in finally burst in a torrent of tears.
“Are you home? I’m coming right over,” Lydia said, all brusque efficiency.
“I’m home,” Harper managed, with a hiccup. She’d planned on having a pity party for one, but her mom, along with Nishi, had been her best friend growing up, and it might help to have her around.
“That woman said something to upset you, didn’t she?” Lydia asked, tut-tutting. “But why isn’t Manny with you? Did he stay with her?”
“Mom, come over. I’ll explain everything then.”
Harper hung up before she blurted the whole sorry tale over the phone. What she had to say had to be said face-to-face.
With gin.
And Tim Tams.
Two packs’ worth.
63
After Harper drove away, Manny trudged inside, and the first thing he saw was her makeup bag on his dining table, her robe draped across a chair and her overnight bag underneath. He’d teased her about making herself at home and she’d come back with “You better get used to it.”
