Chapter 59

HARPER

I was Seated in my freshly redecorated office. I looked around, appreciating the excellent work of the decorator Jasper hired to convert the once-overlooked spare room, into a writer's oasis. She did not disappoint. I'm not typically one to get excited about such things, but I must say, the room is impressive.

I met with her once, and she asked some basic questions, like my favorite color. She showed me a few room examples. The first, was a room nearly covered floor to ceiling in hot pink and fuzz. It reminded me of Aster. I'm more of an earthy tone, clean lines, natural, kind of girl. She seemed a bit bored when I chose the plainest inspiration photos.

Jasper had a few requests, a comfortable sofa where he could stretch out when I spent too much time writing. This way, he could be close to me while I worked without disturbing me. I thought that was sweet, but best believe if his hot body is in my office stretched out on the couch, there is no doubt I would want to be beside him.

I giggled to myself, I've grown so much. A time very recently, I wouldn't even think of being near a man, let alone want to cuddle up next to one.

I looked to the brown leather loveseat, covered in decorative pillows, and my favorite couch blanket. Well a replica of my favorite couch blanket, one of Jasper's requests, the original stayed on our bed now.

Our bed. Why does that sound so nice?

I told Jasper I could work in the room as it was, but he was unconvinced. He said, "A girl requires her own space to let her creativity flourish." He wasn't wrong, but I could have done so without spending so much money redecorating. He's been hinting that I should move in, but I don't know if I'm completely ready for that step.

I practically live here already, having not spent a night away from him or our bed since my discharge from the hospital. Moving in would make things so… Official.

I wish things could stay simple. Adding extra stress could potentially harm what we have. I told myself that a million times, but a part of me still worries that I might be the one to cause damage. So, I let him redecorate to buy some time from the whole moving-in conversation.

I opened the top drawer of my desk and pulled out a copy of the Miami New Times magazine, flipping to page six, where the article from the night at the plaza was printed. A large photo was displayed on nearly half a page.

Jasper and I were standing together. He, leaned in, his hand resting protectively across my waist, as I tilted my head towards him.

The article read,

‘Could it be Miami's most eligible bachelor is off the Market? Jasper Whitlock escorted Harper Williams a local journalist to the event of the season was this for publicity or had she stolen his heart?…'

It went on from there, it was our first photo together, so I kept it. Jasper laughed at me when I got excited that my name was mentioned. For him, this was an everyday occurrence but for me, not so much. I've always blended into the crowd, never letting myself become the center of attention. I never imagined the two of us would be hotter news than the guests of honor.

With everything that happened that night, I didn't get that exclusive interview. Jasper showed me we were the hot topic and oddly enough I was okay with that. And the best part was that Aster was so jealous.

Jasper didn't have any photos of family or friends, except one from an event—it was a picture of him and Max from high school. I made fun of Max when I found it but in all honesty, age has done him well.

There was one other photo, it was of a beautiful woman with blonde hair. She stood beside a tree with her arms stretched over her swollen belly. Her smile was intoxicating. I found that photo in a drawer one day when Jasper went into the office for work, I assumed it was his mother given the worn and fragile state of the photograph. I was curious about who it was, but I didn't want to make it obvious that I was being nosy.

Jasper shared a bit about his mother and father. As he talked about his mother, there was a deep pain in his eyes, but his expression became stern when talking about his father.

From what I gather he and his father didn't see eye to eye. His father wanted to try to groom him into a leader of mayhem, and Jasper never wanted that for himself. I feel like there was more to it than Jasper let on, but I didn't pry.

Jasper left home soon after he turned eighteen, later to be accepted into Harvard Law with a full scholarship. He used his mother's death as motivation to push himself to do better, and he did just that, being the youngest lawyer to pass the bar exams on the first attempt. He then established his practice, which grew into one of the most prestigious firms in Miami.

I glanced over to the nearly empty bookshelf. Jasper brought an armful of books and set them up on the top shelf. I went through them and saw that they were all the books he got from the bookstore when he was basically stalking me.

I call it stalking, he calls it persistence.

I stood from my oversized leather desk chair and walked straight to those books. I picked up ‘Into the Water.' by Paula Hawkins. I flipped through the pages I'd read countless times, catching the scent of paper, ink, and age. Taking a deep breath, I inhaled the enchanting aroma, with my eyes closed.

I think the smell, with the freedom to read as I please, was an incentive for working at the bookstore at first. Later it became the friendship I developed with Old Man Frank and some regular patrons. Most of them were elderly or widowed. I loved sitting and chatting with them. Their tales were much greater than any I could read in a romance novel.

Maybe that's what I should write, a book of short love stories.

I used to watch others, come and go at the bookstore, and thought I could never be in their shoes. I couldn't fathom loving someone so deeply that I'd spend my entire life with them, only to one day face their absence and continue alone. Being a loner seemed like a blessing for that very reason.

But now, loneliness envelops my heart in a darkness I know too well, yet the thought of being someone's forever is equally terrifying, stirring panic and anxiety within me.

I settled in front of my computer, the blank page open and ready for me to spill my thoughts onto it. With a deep breath, I touched the keyboard, ready to begin.

"Here goes nothing, " I whispered.