Chapter 24

Chapter 24

Paisley

Sunlight streamed in through the sheer, blush-pink curtains, casting squares of light stretched long over the bed. I stirred groggily against the morning haze, and my heart did flips when I turned and saw Harper sitting in the bed next to me. My thoughts scattered like a toppled house of cards seeing her, scrolling through her phone, wearing a casual shirt and pants now, and she glanced over at me when I moved, setting the phone down.

“Hey,” she said, her voice soft and sweet and actually honest-to-god her. So she hadn’t just been a fever dream. “Get some good sleep?”

“Harper?” I rubbed my eyes, covering a yawn.

“The one and only.”

“Mm… I had a dream I was trying to ride a horse but the horse kept wanting to walk on two legs and I’d fall off…”

She ruffled my hair. I felt like I died a little when she did. I hated how right Emberlynn was. The second Harper was here, it was like that dark haze was gone, like every little bit of life sparkled, felt right. “Well, lucky it was just a dream, and you don’t need to ride any creepy bipedal horses.”

I felt my stomach drop out, and I sat up in a rush. “Oh, god. What time is it?”

“Easy, Pais—”

I checked my phone by the bed. Seven twelve. I was going to have a heart attack. “Oh my god. The bakery—”

“Paisley.” Harper caught me by the arm as I moved to stand up, and I got a fluttery feeling as she pulled me back into bed. “Relax,” she laughed, eyes sparkling. “I swear, you as a workaholic who doesn’t eat enough and wakes up before sunrise… it’s hard to get my head around.”

I tugged against her hold, even though letting her pull me into bed and just spending all day here next to her sounded like paradise. “Harper. I’ve got to… the bakery…”

“I took care of it,” she said. “Kay helped out, too. She’s running the floor right now.”

I blinked fast. “The… the pull…”

“It wasn’t too bad, actually.”

“The croissants—”

“They’ll be fine. Spaced out the batches in the fridge. Stock might just be a bit slim for the next couple days, but they’ll be there.”

She was an angel. An actual angel descended from the heavens to save me from myself. Or maybe I’d died in the hospital and this was heaven.

No, I was definitely going to hell, so that ruled that one out. Which meant this was real.

I settled back into the bed next to her, the temptation winning out—all soft and warm and close to her, her warmth permeating through the sheets. “I never thought of just doing that…”

She laughed lightly. “Not my first bakery mishap. Had to do the same thing after I’d sprained my ankle and couldn’t work the next morning…”

“I’d forgotten about that.” I shifted. “The bookstore? Did they do the closing routine okay last night? Everything set for opening today?”

“Mm-hm. It’s all going okay, Pais.” She squeezed my arm. “You can rest.”

Maybe I could rest… that sounded nice. Here next to Harper? I didn’t want to work another minute of my life. I just wanted to cuddle her. Wanted to kiss her again…

I was probably supposed to still be mad at her, right? But she’d just come in here guns blazing the second she’d heard I was hurt, and she whisked me away to safety, fixed everything for me… it was awfully romantic of her, for someone who wasn’t going to be with me.

“Rest,” I said, lying down, nestling closer to her side. “Yeah… I’m exhausted. I wasn’t built for hard work. And by hard work I mean literally any. Can you imagine? Me, doing work? Ugh, no.”

She laughed, brushing my hair back with one thumb. I loved it… felt like my heart would burst when she touched me like that. “Really, really can’t. And you apparently did it almost to the point of taking yourself out. Want to get some more sleep?”

“Neh. I already slept in for ages. I think I’m good.”

“If you say so. So… no pressure to eat if you don’t have the appetite for it, but, breakfast?”

I’d almost forgotten I hadn’t had any appetite. That was a different lifetime. Yesterday? I didn’t know her. “I could murder a bowl of oatmeal. The instant kind. Cinnamon raisin.”

She smiled softly, and she moved to stand up. “You got it,” she said, and I reached out and caught her hand.

“Wait—I can make my own—”

“I know. But I want to do this for you.”

Dammit, she was going to make me cry. Just a little. I was a grownup. But still. “Thanks, Harps,” I said, squeezing her hand. She ruffled my hair again as she stood up, and I sank back into the sheets, pulling the blanket up higher as she got up.

“I’ll be back in a flash. If you feel like you’re going to fall back to sleep, let it happen.”

“You’re the best ever,” I murmured, nestling into the pillows. “Love you.”

She looked away, heading for the bedroom door. “Mm. Heard last night that I was the worst ever.”

“You’re that too. It’s like yin and yang.”

She shook her head, but I knew the dorky smile she had on even just seeing her from behind. “Love you too,” she said, opening the door and stepping through. I kept watching after her for a while, staring at the door, hearing her soft footsteps from beyond, and I just…

It was so corny. What kind of loser compared falling in love to a sunrise? But I had to admit, it was easy to take these feelings for granted while Harper was around. And when the sunlight all disappeared for six months, and then came back in a flash… kind of hard to hide from the truth then.

I cozied myself up in the bedsheets all wrapped up in my blankets listening to Harper in the next room moving around in my kitchen—her kitchen. Our kitchen? It had never made sense owning a house and renting the house facing it from across the street, but I couldn’t bear the thought of someone else coming and living in this place, stripping it of everything Harper had left here. It felt right with her back.

I perked up at the sound of the stairwell door opening in the next room, and I sat up groggily when I heard Emberlynn’s voice coming through.

“Hey,” she said, her voice low. “Glad to, uh… glad to see you’re still here.”

I heard Harper slide a drawer shut. “I told you, I’m staying until she’s better.”

I felt like I’d cry. I never wanted to be better, if that was what she was saying. But… just the fact that I could hear her talking to Emberlynn, it was healing a wound I hadn’t realized was a wound.

“Is she still asleep?” Emberlynn said.

“She woke up a bit ago, but she’s probably drifted off again… I’m making her breakfast. Seems to be doing better. Asked for oatmeal and everything.”

“Thank god.” Emberlynn’s voice was so laced with worry. I felt a little sick. Hadn’t really… thought about how it would affect other people. Not that I ever thought of anyone but myself. “Um… thank you, Harper. For coming back. Looking after her.”

Harper sighed, and I heard the beep of the kettle going off. The sound of hot water pouring. After a long pause, she said, “Missed her. Missed you. Missed this town…”

“Stay, then.”

“I can’t, Emberlynn.”

“At least stay in touch.” Emberlynn’s voice cracked, broken around the edges. Felt like she was speaking to my soul. I felt a little weird eavesdropping, but… I couldn’t take my ears off the conversation. “I get you wanted a clean start, but… it doesn’t look like it’s been healthy for you. And I know it’s not healthy for her.”

Harper sighed. Emberlynn went on in a softer voice.

“She loves you.”

“Told me last night I was the worst for making her tea,” Harper said lightly. I huffed. As if that wasn’t how I said I loved her.

“And you love her, too,” Emberlynn said.

“Emberlynn… as nice as it is to see you, is there a reason you’re here?”

Emberlynn laughed. “Grabbing my bread for the day. Just thought I’d come up here and say hi while I was in. And check on Pais.”

“You can see her if you want to.”

“I’m not interrupting your time together,” Emberlynn said, and I felt my face prickle. It wasn’t like I didn’t want it, just… just… I couldn’t bear the thought of everyone knowing how I felt about Harper. Even though I think everyone knew how I felt about Harper. “Tell her I said hi, okay? And that I’m glad she’s doing better.”

“Will do. Oh—what’s the bread today?”

Emberlynn laughed. “Ciabatta. Doing a kind of… croque monsieur. Aria’s at that point in her period where she’s craving as much cheese as she can get in her stomach, so…”

“Heading over to Hogshead after?”

“Going to clear their shelves. It’s the least I can do for her.”

Harper laughed. “Tell her I said hi, too. And that I hope the cheese helps.”

The coffeemaker beeped a second after Emberlynn had left, too, and it wasn’t long before Harper’s footsteps came towards the door, knocking twice before she pushed it open and stepped inside. I shifted in the bed to look like I’d dozed off a bit, feigning waking up as she came over with a tray, stocked with coffee and oatmeal and buttered toast with jam, and she slipped into the bed and set it down between us.

“Breakfast in bed,” I laughed, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. “I need to pass out more often.”

“You have people around you who will spoil you if you ask.”

I harrumphed, taking a spoonful of oatmeal. “It’s not the same. I want you spoiling me.”

She looked away. I wasn’t feeling guilty, though. I had every right to talk about how damn much I wanted her in my life.

“Thanks for the breakfast,” I said.

“Feeling better about eating?”

“Better by miles.” I took a bite of the toast, too—I hadn’t asked for it, but it was knock-your-socks-off good and I was ready to marry her for bringing it to me. Maybe I should have asked her to marry me. We made good wives. “This is the peach-mint jam again, isn’t it?”

She gestured airily. “You said you liked it…”

I wiped the crumbs from my mouth. “What’s it like?”

“Peachy and minty, primarily. And sugary. Bit of pectin.”

“The new job. What do you do, anyway?”

“Oh…” She cleared her throat, looking down. I sipped the coffee, content to wait, and eventually, it got a mumbled answer out of her. “This and that… I do a lot of interoperations logistics, so I’m all over the place. I like it that way, though.”

“So you like the job?”

“Yeah, well enough. Pays well, too. Plus, it’s a win for anyone who likes fancy parties… just got to say hi to the mayor of New York City the other day.”

“Holy crap.”

“Nothing more than saying hi, though. Chitchatted with some construction execs, mostly. That’s generally what it comes down to… catering to rich people’s tastes, sucking up to them, making them feel important. I don’t mind it, though.”

I looked down. “Um… making a lot of new friends there?”

She didn’t say anything. I sipped my coffee again, playing the waiting game, and once again—as always—I won. “Paisley… I really shouldn’t be talking too much about—”

“Should never stopped me. Now spill it.”

She hung her head, a dry smile on her lips. I loved that little tired smile thing she did. I wanted to hold her for the rest of time. “It’s a busy place. I know a lot of people, and I like them, they like me, but it’s kind of… arm’s-length.”

“Because you keep it that way.”

She pursed her lips. I set the coffee down, shifting the tray to my other side and clearing up the space between us, and I shifted over to her side. I put a hand on hers in her lap, lacing my fingers between hers, and I was relieved to see her breath still tightened, her pulse still quickened when I did that.

“Harper… please tell me what happened.”

“You know what happened. I moved out of here—”

“With her.”

She sighed, sharp and pointed, looking away. “By the way, Emberlynn said hi—”

“I know. I eavesdropped.”

“I—just like that?”

“Tell me what happened. Please.”

“I can’t. It’s not right.”

I squeezed her hand. “If you’re going to leave, what does it matter? Just get it off your chest. And then… then… then you go back to your other life, leave me behind, but you’ve at least said it. To someone. And you need that. Come on, admit it. It’s been eating you alive, hasn’t it? How long have you been keeping it to yourself?”

She sucked in a long, shaky breath, and she flipped her hand over underneath mine, holding onto mine and squeezing. She didn’t look at me, just breathing out slowly, weakly, before she spoke in a strained, distant voice. “Ten… years.”

Okay. I could work with this. I caressed my thumb in small, tight patterns on the side of her hand. “Can you… at least tell me her name?”

She didn’t say anything.

“Have you… said her name? To anybody?”

Mutely, she shook her head. I squeezed tighter, dropping my voice to a whisper.

“I promise I won’t tell anybody. You’re safe here.”

She whispered something I couldn’t catch. I shifted closer.

“Say that again?”

“Lindsay.” Her voice was rough, gravelly.

“Lindsay?” She nodded, and I squeezed her hand again. “Oh, great. I love that name.”

She winced at me. “Really?”

“Yeah. Tried to write a book once. Couldn’t finish the first chapter, but the main character’s name was Lindsay.”

She laughed oddly, cocking her head. “When… was that?”

“Oh, pff…” I cast my gaze to the ceiling. “Damn, I don’t know. It was close to when I opened the bookstore, so it’s been ages. Used to be way more into reading then.”

“Guess that explains why you opened a bookstore.”

“Yeah, kinda let the reading habit fall by the wayside, but I like the bookstore. Writing turned out to not be for me, though. Anyway, Lindsay had purple hair and glowing eyes and she could read people’s minds, so, you know, real main-character type.”

She laughed, but it was such a small thing, weak, like she was barely there. This poor girl. “So what you mean is that you wrote it when you were fourteen.”

“Mentally, emotionally, that’s about how old I was, yeah.” I sipped my coffee again, giving the topic some space to breathe, before I said, “So… what was she like?”

She let out a ragged breath. “Quiet… kind of kept to herself. Bit moody. Complained about a lot of things. Picked fights and then ran away from them.”

“Okay, that last part, I empathize with.”

“C’mon,” she laughed, nudging me lightly, but it was a thin veneer over the nerves she was drowning in. “She… well, we never got on too well, I guess. Mom wasn’t…” She made a face. I sipped my coffee, letting her finish, but she didn’t say anything.

“Lindsay… was she your sister?”

She squeezed her eyes shut tightly, balled her fists, and nodded, I put my coffee down and massaged her back gently, slowly up and down. It kind of blew my mind realizing I’d never really… done this with her before. Consoling her. Talking her through painful things. Helping her find peace. Had she even opened up about painful things once?

She had now.

“Older or younger?” I said, my voice low.

“Younger. Three years.”

“What kind of things did she like?”

She laughed, once, breathless, streaked with pent-up tears. “Um… good question. Honestly? Probably those tacky novels you were working on with purple-haired glowing-eyed mind-reading protagonists…”

“Oh, perfect,” I said, squeezing her. “Then I was just channeling her a little. Got a little piece of her right there, in an old document.”

She shook her head, letting out a shaking breath. “Nah… she’s gone.”

There was so much… more to it than just what met the eye. I squeezed her hand. “I’m sorry about your sister.”

She shook her head again, quiet, eyes closed. “These things happen.”

“How old were you?”

“I was…” She screwed up her face. “I was seventeen.”

“That has to be a horrible age to lose someone at.”

She scoffed. “Like there’s a good age?”

“I mean, no, but… I feel like you’re really caught between a rock and a hard place then. Old enough to feel responsible for things and young enough to be, you know, a fragile little mess like kids always are. That’s awful.” I looked down. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“It’s my fault,” she breathed—the words just slipping out, like she didn’t mean to say it. I paused, looking over at her, but she turned, sliding up to her feet.

“Harper—”

“Can we not talk about this? I need some air.”

She moved for the door, and I didn’t think—I never did—I just moved, lunging and grabbing her by the hand.

“There’s something else I wanted to ask,” I said. She looked back with a pained expression.

“What…?”

“Um… the picture frame,” I said. “Did you keep it?”

“Oh.” She relaxed, turning back to the window. “Yeah. I, uh… thank you. For the gift. I keep it on my desk.”

That was all I’d ever needed to hear. Suddenly I was happy and healthy and I could run and jump and dance around.

Dammit, Emberlynn was right. I hated when she was.

“What did you end up using?” I said. “For the photo.”

She smiled lightly at me. “None of them. I just put a cat picture in it.”

“I’m gonna start screaming until you tell me the real answer.”

She laughed, looking away again, a little… a little blush creeping over her cheeks. I’d missed that so much it was unreal. “None of the ones you took.”

“What, seriously? After I worked so hard on them?”

“Remember when we grabbed burgers from Jeremy’s and just sat on the overlook near the Rove estate?”

I slumped. It was a beautiful vista of Bayview from there, but I’d kind of been… hoping it was a picture of us. I know it didn’t make sense to hope for that when she’d been trying to forget me, but I’d thought maybe if she was wearing the necklace… “Nah. Wiped that from my memory when I found out Jeremy’d skimped on my pickles.”

“Well, imagine that happening. Took a picture there.”

It was probably gorgeous. I was just jealous of a Bayview scenery shot. I settled back in the bed. “Can we go out for dinner somewhere today?”

She gave me a look. “What, starting a new bucket list?”

I sure was. I went with a clever excuse, being the Machiavellian master manipulator I was. “I just think I’d be more up to eating a proper meal if it was a whole thing, you know? Go out, order food, make it an experience.”

She hesitated, looking me over. “Will you be… okay to go out?”

I beamed. “You’ll catch me if I fall.”

She blushed again, and it was even better than I remembered it. She turned away. “I’m not carrying you,” she said.

“Yeah, you will. So, it’s a yes?”

“What do you want for dinner?”

“Japanese. Hinomoto?”

“Sure… sounds good.” She gave me the softest, sweetest smile, and it ached like I’d break in half just how totally I was in love with this damn woman with one foot out the door. “I’m going to help Kay downstairs, but… get some rest. I’ll get us a reservation.”

Hinomoto wasn’t so popular that we’d need reservations on a Thursday evening, but something about her booking us a table made it more romantic, so I was in. “You’re the very best in all the world ever.”

“Mm-hm. Sure thing, Pais. See you,” she laughed, heading out the door, and she gave me one last loaded look on her way out.

Sharing was good for her. I knew… I knew she was going to leave again. But I’d get the story out of her before she did.

For both of us. And for Lindsay, too.