Chapter 23

Tommy

Breakfasts with Harleyquickly became the highlight of my days and I found myself dreading the end of my stay. Next Sunday was supposed to be my last day, but I wasn’t ready to go back to the real world yet. I was living in something of a bubble here at Harmony Place, and it wasn’t just because of Harley.

I liked talking to Allisha, and Quinn and I had become buddies. He was old enough to be my dad but was interesting and young at heart. He talked about his late wife a lot, and how much he missed her, and I’d confided quite a bit about Harley and me. Not the details, because it wouldn’t be fair to her to air our dirty laundry in a place where people knew her, but enough for him to understand the bond we had and how hard it had been without her.

I’d also started to enjoy my sessions with Allisha, both solo and with Harley. She forced me to dig deep and think about my role in the end of my marriage instead of making excuses for why I’d been the victim. And the grief support group was a lot more impactful than I’d imagined it would be. I empathized with everyone in the group and could commiserate.

Coming here had been a great idea, and I made the impulsive decision to extend my stay for as long as Harley was here. But first, I had to talk to her about it. I didn’t want to impose on her time here or make her uncomfortable if she wanted me to leave. If Allisha had taught me anything, it was not to make assumptions. I knew Harley extremely well, but I wasn’t a mind-reader and we’d been apart for a long time.

“Good morning.” She was already at our favorite table on the patio, and she looked adorable in a pink tracksuit, with her hair up in a messy bun.

“Good morning.” I sank down across from her and was gratified to see our favorite waiter come hurrying over to pour me a cup of coffee. “Did you do yoga this morning?”

“I did. I’ve been doing it every morning since I’ve been here, and it feels good. It’s a nice way to start the day.”

“I guess you don’t have much quiet time in the morning at home,” I said. “With a toddler underfoot and all.”

“He’s not underfoot. He’s a really good kid. Sometimes he gets into bed with me and we snuggle. Then we get breakfast and he either plays or watches TV until it’s time for preschool. If it’s a weekend, we go to the park or something to let him run around. Then he’s content to color or play with his cars.” She paused. “He’s already got his dad’s love of cars.”

Carter had been a collector, though he hadn’t necessarily driven them all.

He’d had over a hundred vehicles at the time of his death.

“What, uh, what did you do with them all?” I asked.

“He wanted most of them donated to specific people or charities. I still have his convertible Mustang and the Bentley. I’m saving the Mustang for River. If he doesn’t want it, then it’ll be worth a lot. And I like driving the Bentley.” Her cheeks turned pink, and she dipped her head. “It reminds me of him, but it’s also a dream when you’re behind the wheel.”

“It’s a sweet car,” I said. “It seems a shame to sell it.”

“It still smells faintly of his aftershave,” she whispered. “And it makes me miss him a tiny bit less.” Tears puddled in her eyes, and she absently swiped at them. “Sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize.” I reached across the table for one of her hands. “I miss him too. I’d like to drive it sometime. If that’s okay. It might remind me of him like it does you.”

“Sure.” She cocked her head. “So, is today your last day?”

I shook my head. “I’ve decided to stay longer.” I paused. “I don’t think we’re done yet, Harley. There’s still more to work through, and honestly, I’m more relaxed here than I’ve been in a long time.”

“Me too.”

“You don’t mind?”

“Why would I mind?” She lifted her beautiful blue eyes to meet mine. “We came here to heal, and it seems like that’s finally starting to happen. If you want to stay, I welcome it. I’ve missed you, Tommy.”

Holy shit.

Had she just said she missed me?

I didn’t know what to do with that, but it felt like a good sign.

“I’ve missed you too.”

“But I can’t linger today. Wynter is bringing River for a visit.”

“Where does he think you are?”

“Working.” She shrugged. “What else do you tell a three-year-old?”

“That’s a fair point.”

She cocked her head. “Have you met him?”

I hesitated. “I’ve been over at Z’s when he was there, but we’ve never spent any time together or been formally introduced. Do you do that with toddlers?”

She laughed. “Yes. Yes, you do. It teaches them manners, and also gives them a point of reference. He’s little, but he’s still a person with thoughts and feelings. He knows Uncle Z and Uncle Kellan and Uncle King, so why wouldn’t he know Uncle Tommy? We talk about you but keep it very basic, so he doesn’t ask why you haven’t been around.”

That was another failure on my part.

Carter had asked us to look out for and help Harley raise his son, and I hadn’t even tried. Not that Harley needed anything tangible—she’d inherited everything from Carter, and from what I could see, was a great mom. She also had her sister to help, along with Presley and the rest of my band.

Everyone but me.

Well, that ended now.

“Could I meet him?” I asked, clearing my throat a little.

“Sure. He and Wynter will be here around eleven. We’re going to walk on the beach, have lunch, and then maybe color or something until it’s time to go. I don’t want him to get the idea I’m in a prison or hospital. I want him to feel relaxed, like he’s visiting me at a hotel.”

“That’s seems about right.”

“Now that he’s older, he has Carter’s eyes,” she said softly. “So, prepare yourself. It can be gut-wrenching the first time you see it up close.”

“Okay. Good to know.”

“You don’t have to meet him if you don’t want to,” she said quietly. “It won’t hurt my feelings if you say you’re not ready.”

“I should already be Uncle Tommy,” I said. “I should have stepped up the minute I found out about him. Just like the other guys. Carter asked us to. Even if I was pissed at the two of you, it’s not the baby’s fault. I’m the asshole here.”

“There are no assholes here. We were all given a difficult set of circumstances. Part of why we’re here is forgiveness. And that includes forgiving ourselves for the mistakes we made and our individual parts in all of it.”

“Like me not taking the time to find out whether or not my wife really wanted to have a threesome?” I asked dryly. “For not manning the fuck up and having a conversation with you before I signed those divorce papers?”

“Yes.” She nodded. “And me for not giving you a chance to decide whether or not you wanted to stay with me while we raised another man’s son. For not giving you a choice. For deciding I had to play the martyr even though we did that threesome together.”

“We really screwed things up.”

“We did.”

“I wasn’t just saying it because I thought you wanted to hear it when I said I missed you.”

“I know. I meant it when I said I’d missed you too.”

“So what do we do? Is that a way to move forward?”

“I’m not sure. Isn’t that what we were supposed to be figuring out this week? Whether we can be friends?”

“Look at us.” I motioned to the table. “Aren’t we already? Friends, ex-lovers, business partners… our lives are inextricably intertwined. How do we move forward without friendship? I don’t think I can. You’ll always be a part of me.”

She looked thoughtful as she chewed the inside of her cheek. “I don’t know what happens next, but we shouldn’t rush it. What we did in the cemetery that night shows just how vulnerable we both are, and I don’t know about your mental health, but mine has been teetering on the edge since Carter died. I’m…” She wrinkled her nose. “Fragile. I never thought I’d use that word to describe myself, but that’s how I feel right now. Delicate. Frail. Breakable.”

“I don’t ever want to be the one who breaks you,” I said quietly. “And if my being in your life makes you feel afraid or like I might be the cause of breaking something in your heart or soul, then I’ll walk away, Harley. I don’t want to, but we’ve hurt each other enough.”

“I don’t want you to walk away,” she said softly, squeezing my hand.

“Then what’s next?” I asked bluntly. “Can we be friends? Can we be more than friends?”