Where We Belong

by Shann McPherson

  “You’re my best friend, Murph.” Nash leaned in even closer, resting his forehead against mine. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  I smiled, closing my eyes a moment, breathing him and his words in. Looking at him again, I blinked once, watching him so closely it was as if I could see straight through to his soul, and it was beautiful. “We’ll always have each other,” I whispered.

  Nash leaned forward, pressing his lips to my forehead, and I gasped, not having expected such an intimate closeness from him. “Just the two of us,” he said so softly. “Forever and always.”

  I looked up, meeting his eyes, and when I caught the ghost of a smile pulling at his lips, in that instant I knew everything in the world was perfect. Deep down butterflies swarmed in my tummy as I realized maybe—just maybe—one day, I would get my happy ending, after all.

  The sound of a car horn pulls me from my past and I startle, shaking my head free of the reverie clouding my mind. My phone vibrates and I glance down to see a notification from Uber on the screen. Peering through the curtain I see a silver Toyota idling at the curb. With one last glance at my reflection, I exhale a heavy breath and collect my purse. And, with my heart a little heavier than it had been only moments ago, I know it’s time to face my past, now or never.

  Chapter 4

  Harrington Country Club is certainly not the type of place I frequent in my spare time. It’s the kind of place a girl like me just doesn’t belong. Women with handbags worth more than my car, dripping in diamonds and pearls, accompany men who exude wealth and stature. And, here I am in my old dress, wearing shoes I dug out from the very bottom of a bargain bin during the Black Friday sales at Nordstrom’s two years ago, smiling nervously at the club host as I walk through the grand entrance, scared I’m going to be asked to leave.

  “Can I help you, miss?” the host asks, crossing the foyer to reach me in such a hurry it’s as if I’m trying to sneak in.

  I straighten a little, squaring my shoulders. “I’m here for the Harris-Hutchins dinner party.” I lift my chin a little higher as if I’m the kind of woman who frequents the most exclusive country clubs every Saturday night.

  “Certainly, ma’am.” The man nods and smiles down at me. “Just through the main hall, past the gentlemen’s lounge, and into the formal dining room.”

  “Thank you.” I nod on my way past him, trying not to outwardly roll my eyes at the fact that this is the kind of establishment that actually entertains the idea of a gentlemen’s lounge.

  The formal dining room is even more exquisite than the foyer, and I’m rendered speechless when I walk through the double doors. A perfectly planned maze of beautifully decorated tables fills the space, complete with candles, fresh flowers, and fancy silverware. Soft music resonates throughout, accompanying the sound of gentle voices murmuring amiable dinner chitchat. As much as I try to pretend as if I do, I certainly do not belong in a place like this.

  “Murph!”

  I stop mid-step, looking to my right and breathing a sigh of relief to see Nash through the sea of pompous country club members. And, for a moment, I’m left breathless by the sheer sight of him. He looks incredible. His sandy hair is a little messy, like he’s been running his fingers through it all day. His azure eyes seem to illuminate the otherwise dim light of the room, sparkling beneath the low-hanging crystal chandeliers. He’s dressed in a navy suit that looks as if it was made to fit only his body. I’ve never seen him look so put-together, so grown-up, so handsome.

  “Murph, over here!” Nash yells out again, chuckling this time as if I’d not seen him.

  I come to, snapping myself out of my daze. His hand is in the air, beckoning me over and that same boyish grin I fell in love with years ago beams as he waves me over.

  “Hi.” I smile awkwardly, approaching the long table set up in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlook the eighteenth hole lit up like Christmas, providing a spectacular backdrop.

  Nash makes his way to me and, before I know it, he has me wrapped in his arms. He holds me so close I can feel his breath fanning over the sensitive skin at the base of my neck and, again, I’m breathless, speechless, and everything in between. The things this guy is capable of doing to me without really doing anything, I swear he might just be the death of me.

  “I’m so glad you’re here,” he whispers, pulling back and holding me at arm’s length. “You look beautiful, Murph. Real beautiful.”

  I roll my eyes at his compliment, feeling my traitorous cheeks blush.

  “Come.” Nash takes my hand in his, holding it tight. “I want to introduce you to Anna.”

  My heart falls at the mention of her, as if somehow in the last three minutes spent rapt in everything Nash, I’d forgotten the reason I was here. I try desperately not to let my smile fall but, when I’m led to the striking blonde woman I remember from my social media stalking session, tentatively standing from her chair, looking from Nash to me and back again, the overwhelming happiness I felt just moments ago has all but disappeared.

  Is this some kind of sick joke?

  She’s the epitome of beautiful. Even more beautiful than the photos on her Instagram. In fact, beautiful doesn’t even cut it. She’s tall—at least five foot ten – plus however many inches the stiletto heels she’s wearing are. She’s thin, with an enviable amount of cleavage on display. Her skin is luminous, soft and flawless; it’s as if she’s actually glowing from the inside. Long blonde hair that shimmers like glitter and she’s dressed in a slinky red dress that hugs her strategically placed curves. I can’t help but stare at her while realizing every one of my fears have been confirmed; Anna isn’t just everything I’m not, she’s everything a girl like me could never be.

  Immediately I feel as if I pale in comparison to a girl like Anna Hutchins, and I really want the floor to open up and swallow me whole. Being in the same room as someone so sickeningly perfect, so naturally charming, is definitely not good for my already dwindling self-confidence.

  “Anna,” Nash begins, looking down at me with an endearing smile I suddenly want to slap right off his face for reasons unbeknownst to me. “This is Murph.”

  “Oh my goodness.” Anna beams, covering her smiling mouth with each of her perfectly manicured hands. “I can’t believe I’m finally meeting the infamous Murph.”

  I stiffen a little. Infamous? What does that even mean? What am I, some kind of funny story he likes to tell all his new rich college friends about? I eye Nash dubiously but he just grins down at me, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. “All I do is talk about you, and Harley of course, and everything we did growing up together,” he explains, but that doesn’t make me feel any better.

  “I’m so happy to meet you.” Anna smiles, apparently over her sudden shock of coming face-to-face with my apparent infamy. Ducking down to my level—which is humiliating in itself—she wraps her arms around me in an embrace I can’t say I’m all too comfortable with. I hesitate a moment before reluctantly lifting a hand and patting her back a few times, feeling as awkward as possible. I’m not usually one to hug a stranger and, let’s face it, she’s a stranger; I don’t care how tightly she has my best friend wrapped around her dainty little finger.

  “Harley!” Nash yells from beside us, and that’s my cue to pull away from the slightly overbearing Anna, straightening my dress as I glance at Nash who is, once again, holding his hand in the air.

  “Hey, man!” he calls out.

  I turn to see Harley approaching and, for a moment, I find myself actually stunned. What the hell? He looks good tonight. Surprisingly so. I’ve never seen him so dressed up. Wearing a pair of neatly pressed khakis and a white button-down, which helps to accentuate his athletic build and tan skin. Even his chestnut hair is perfectly styled away from his face, instead of in its usual disarray.

  I’m shocked. His look tonight is in stark contrast to his usual ripped jeans and End Zone T-shirt he wears every day at the bar. Hell, he even wore his damn football jersey
to prom, complete with a sequin bowtie. The guy has never looked like this before, and I find myself unable to tear my eyes away from his as he smiles, flashing his dimples and all. He oozes charisma as he weaves his way through the table maze.

  Reaching us, Harley throws his arms around Nash, and I force myself to look away from him, my eyes flitting to Anna who is watching the boys’ exchange with an adoring smile, her perfectly straight white teeth glistening. Everything about her annoys me. I can barely contain an eye-roll. I force myself to turn away from her to stop the annoyance from consuming me from the inside out, and my gaze shifts to Harley once again. On closer inspection, I realize perhaps he isn’t as put-together as I had initially thought, the Men’s Warehouse tag poking out from the back of the starched collar of his shirt proves that, beneath the façade, the usual Harley is still there in all his glory, and I bite back a grin.

  “Hey, Murph.” Harley offers me a smile.

  “Hey,” I murmur in return, again forcing myself to look away from him. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Maybe I just need a drink. I begin searching for a waiter, craning my neck over the sea of country club diners as Nash and Harley continue talking with one another, but then I overhear Nash introducing him to Anna, and everything stops.

  “Harley, this is Anna, the love of my life—”

  At that, I snap my head back to look at them, my jaw gaping at his words. The love of my life? As if his words aren’t bad enough, I’m forced to watch on as he offers her the most adoring look, and it’s heartbreakingly obvious just how enamored he is of her. My hands ball into fists by my sides and something unexpected comes over me, something I hadn’t been prepared to deal with tonight. As I watch Nash slap Harley’s shoulder, introducing him, the words are like hot lava as they burn their way up the back of my throat. I couldn’t even stop them if I tried.

  “Anna, babe, this is Harley Shaw, he’s—”

  “My boyfriend.” I find myself stepping forward without missing a beat, surprising not only myself with my completely fabricated and obviously blatant lie, but Harley and Nash as well, each of them gaping at me as an awkward silence settles between us. But, I don’t stop there. I reach up and touch Harley’s arm, trailing my hand down to his, intertwining our fingers together as I smile at Anna.

  “Wait … What?” Nash gapes incredulously, looking from me to Harley and back again.

  I swallow hard, trying desperately to keep my cool, but I can feel Harley tense up beside me. I look up and meet his eyes. His jaw clenches beneath his lightly stubbled skin and he flashes me a warning look, his green eyes glaring.

  “Wait,” Anna speaks up, laughing to herself. “You two are together?” she shrieks in absolute joy. I look at her, my smile faltering at her reaction, and it takes all I have not to tell her to shut the hell up as she cuddles up to Nash, clutching a hand to her heaving chest. “That is so adorable!”

  My teeth grit together and I try so hard to return her smile, but she really is impossible not to outwardly cringe at.

  “So, Wait. I-Is this— is this actually a thing?” Nash asks, looking between Harley and me, his smile a little forced if the look in his eyes is anything to go by.

  I grasp Harley’s hand so hard, squeezing it a little too tight as if he’s my only lifeline, and I pray he’ll just go along with whatever it is I’m doing. I don’t even know what that is, but I hope like hell he’ll just play along. I look up at him with an imploring gaze full of desperation and he meets my eyes momentarily, swallowing so hard his Adam’s apple bobs up and down in his throat. “Uh—” A sound similar to that of a strangled laugh comes out of him, and he shakes his head before looking at Nash. “Y-yeah.” He presses his lips together in the semblance of a smile, this time offering me an unexpectedly doting glance so unlike him it almost makes me laugh out loud.

  Good job, Harley.

  “We’re … t-together,” he says, clearing his throat a little at the end as if his own words leave a bad taste in his mouth. “We’re together,” he says again with a little more conviction.

  “So cute.” Anna smiles, flashing me a wink I’m assuming is her way of telling me she thinks she and I are kindred spirits of some sort. We’re not. At all.

  “Huh,” Nash muses out loud, looking at the two of us with the hint of a confused smile lingering on his lips, one that reflects the bewilderment in his eyes. He seems to be considering something, studying us, and I try so hard to look happier than I’ve ever been while holding Harley’s arm tight to stop my buckling knees from bringing me crashing to the floor. Thankfully, before any more can be said—before I can think of some other elaborate lie to announce out of the blue—a waiter arrives at our table with a tray of canapés, and everyone finds their designated seats.

  As I take my seat beside Harley, I can feel a thousand questions radiating from him as he offers me a sideways glance full of trepidation. And the whole time I can feel Nash’s eyes watching me too, assessing me from across the table. But I ignore them both. Instead, I pretend to be oblivious, busying myself with pouring a glass of wine from the carafe in the middle of the table. I’ve never been more desperate for a drink before in all my life. I need to get drunk. Because at least if I can get drunk enough, I can blame the alcohol for my night of unfathomable decisions.

  Chapter 5

  I swear, I’ve never sat through a more awkward dinner in my whole life. The entire time Nash was watching Harley and me like a hawk. He was pretending not to, quickly turning his attention to Anna or the dinner plate in front of him if I caught his penetrating gaze, but it was so obvious. And I couldn’t help but take that as a good sign. He was clearly curious and confused, but could he actually be jealous?

  “We need to talk,” Harley whispers from the corner of his mouth.

  “I know,” I mutter back with a tight-lipped smile, avoiding his eyes and focusing intently on my pasta Alfredo.

  “What the hell is this all about, Murph?” he hisses so low I’m sure I’m the only one who can hear him.

  I look at him, noticing his jaw clenched even tighter despite his smile that looks so obviously forced, the way he’s watching me, waiting for some kind of explanation that I just don’t have. And, at that moment, I can see from the corner of my eye Nash is still watching us with piqued interest he’s so clearly trying to conceal.

  I find myself softening as I turn to Harley, cocking my head to the side with a small smile. “We can talk.” I stare directly into his green eyes, which are so dark they’re almost olive, and, for Nash’s benefit only, I reach my hand up, tenderly cupping his cheek as I whisper, “Later. I promise.”

  Harley’s eyes widen, and I can see him inhale a sharp breath at my unexpected touch. I have no doubt he wants to kill me for putting him in such a predicament. I can almost feel his skin crawl beneath my fingertips, and I don’t know whether to laugh or cry at just how messed-up this entire situation is.

  “Good evening, everyone.”

  I turn away from Harley to see Anna standing from her chair, her beautiful, effervescent smile lighting up her face as she looks around at everyone seated at the table.

  “Thank you all so much for coming to our makeshift engagement dinner.” She glances down at Nash, smiling that same adoring smile before continuing. “Everything happened so fast. One minute we were dating, the next Nash was on one knee in front of me, asking me to be his wife. So, since everything has been so rushed, we thought we’d get everyone together to start the beginning of our wedding week and celebrate our engagement,” she squeals, excitedly clapping her hands together as the rest of the party surrounding the table cheers.

  I hide my scowl as best as I can, taking a few unladylike gulps of wine from my glass.

  “I’ve asked my maid of honor, Beth—” Anna pauses, smiling at a just as blonde, just as beautiful woman sitting at the opposite end of the table “—and Nash’s best man, Harley—” she stops once more to acknowledge Harley, before continuing “—to say a few words tonight. To introdu
ce themselves and get the party started. So, Harley?” She nods across the table to him. “If you’d like to say something, that would be wonderful.”

  Harley clears his throat, wiping his mouth with his napkin before casting me a sideways glance as he hesitantly stands from his chair. I take another drink of my wine, looking across to where Anna is giggling quietly with Nash as he presses a tender kiss to her cheek. My teeth grit together at their display of affection, so hard my jaw begins to ache.

  “Hey, everyone.” Harley waves a nervous hand in the air. “I-I’m Harley Shaw. Nash’s oldest and therefore best friend.” He flashes me a smug smirk while everyone who knows us chuckles, and I roll my eyes, continuing to drown my secret sorrows with wine.

  “Nash and I first met in the sandpit in Kindergarten. He was crying because he’d peed his pants and he didn’t want to tell the teacher in case the other kids made fun of him.”

  Everyone at the table roars with laughter, and I look across to see Nash’s cheeks flush with embarrassment. He holds his glass of scotch in the air, nodding at Harley in mock appreciation.

  Harley chuckles. “No, but seriously, I could stand up here and embarrass the hell out of my best friend with all the stories I have.” He casts Nash a knowing smirk. “But then what would I talk about at the wedding reception?” Again, the party guests laugh. “I can tell you one story, though. This one isn’t embarrassing, or particularly funny, but it sure is proof that Nash Harris might just be the greatest guy around.”

  Everyone settles in, watching Harley as he continues.

  “We were 16. And those who know me and Nash know that when it comes to fathers we were both dealt a pretty … lousy hand.” He pauses, this time raising his glass at Nash, and Nash nods in understanding, something passing between the two of them and only the two of them. Harley takes a deep breath, continuing, “My father has always been a drunk. Hell, he still is. He used to come to my football games and stand on the sidelines drunk as sin, cursing at the top of his lungs, making a damn fool of himself and embarrassing me.”