Harper

Thank goodness the boutique is slow today. I’m so tired I wouldn’t be much help to anyone right now. After my talk with Anton last night, I just couldn’t go to sleep. It wasn’t because I regret breaking things off with him, because I don’t. It was because I kept trying to think of what to say to Luke the next time I see him.

I felt awful leaving with Anton instead of Luke, but I knew it was time to tell Anton how I feel...or don’t feel, actually. I just hope Luke isn’t too angry with me. All night, I lay in bed wishing I could talk to him. Why we haven’t exchanged phone numbers yet baffles me, but maybe he’s not ready to take that step yet. There are times when I think he wants to be more than friends and times when I’m just not sure.

My eyes were finally closing around two in the morning when I had the brilliant idea to tell Luke how I feel, but when I woke up a few hours later, I panicked, remembering what happened the last time I was that forward with him.

Yes, we’ve both grown and changed since that night, but I can’t help but be scared of his reaction if he’s not ready for more. It might crush me. I’m not sure I can handle his rejection twice in a lifetime.

A huge yawn causes my mouth to open widely, and I’ve barely recovered when the door swings open, revealing Luke. He’s never visited me here before, and I’m equal parts elated and nervous, not knowing what to expect from him. I quickly wipe away the moisture under my eyes and collect myself before greeting him with a smile.

“Are you crying?” he asks.

“What?” I reply, confused.

“You were wiping your eyes just now. Are you okay?”

“Oh, that. I’m fine. I had just yawned before you opened the door, and my eyes always water when I yawn,” I explain. “But thanks for being concerned.”

Luke walks up to me, his deep blue eyes gazing at me with an intensity that makes my stomach tighten. “Of course I’m concerned, Harper. That’s one of the reasons I’m here—to make sure you’re okay after last night. I wanted so badly to go to your apartment and check on you, but I didn’t know which unit was yours. I also didn’t know if...if Anton would be there or not.”

I have to bite my bottom lip to keep from smiling, kinda loving the fact he wanted to check on me.

“Anton didn’t go inside my apartment with me.”

He looks a little surprised, but relief also relaxes his features. “Oh, okay. That's, uh...”

“I didn’t really think he’d want to come up after I’d just broken up with him. That might’ve been a little awkward,” I tell him with a scrunch of my nose.

Luke steps closer to me. “Really? You broke up with him?”

“Well, I don’t know if break up is the right term. We were never exclusive or serious, but yeah.”

“What changed?” he asks skeptically, like he wants to be happy about it, but he’s not sure if he should be. “I mean, you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

“I don’t mind.” I smile at him, finding confidence in his curiosity. “I just knew he wasn’t the right guy for me. I wanted him to be, at first. I tried to make him be the right guy for me because he was...safe, easy...Nothing like I’ve experienced before, but ultimately, he's not who I truly want or need.”

“Was he upset?”

“No,” I say, shaking my head. “At least, I don’t think so. He wasn’t in love with me. I think we were both settling, thinking our friendship would eventually turn romantic, but that’s not the kind of relationship I want.”

Luke gingerly takes my hand, his long fingers wrapping around my own before grasping tightly. “What do you want?” Before I can answer, he interjects. “Because...I have to admit…” He pauses, hesitating for a moment, but then continues. “I want it to be me. I want to be what you want—who you want.”

To say I’m shocked by his words is the understatement of the year. I’m pretty sure if Luke wasn’t holding my hand right now, I’d be passed out on the floor. He’s just said the words I’ve wanted to hear from him for so long, and I don’t know how to respond. Do I say ‘yes, that’d be lovely’, or do I jump him here in the store? I’m having a hard time finding the middle ground right now.

Unfortunately, he takes my silence as rejection.

“It’s okay if you’re not ready or if I’m not what you want.” His grip on my hand loosens, and the cool air that hits my skin after his warm touch leaves wakes me from my stupor.

“No.” I tighten my hold on his hand. “I mean, yes.” I pause for a second, trying to force my words to make sense. “You’re what I want. I...I was happy to just be your friend, to have you in my life, but I want to be with you.”

His strong hands cradle my face, forcing me to look at him. I’m torn between focusing my gaze on his eyes and his mouth. “It’s been fucking agony standing aside and only being your friend, but I don’t regret a single moment, Harper. There are still things you don’t know about me, but I’m finally ready to share them with you, if you’ll have me.”

The word yes barely leaves my mouth before his lips are on mine, consuming me...claiming me. The kiss we shared months ago has nothing on this one. That kiss was filled with desperation and uncertainty, but this one is all about forgiveness and hope, the promise of what’s to come.

Our lips eventually separate, but our arms stay wrapped around each other, not wanting to end this perfect moment. When the chime on the front door announces a customer walking in, we quickly pull apart. I run my hands over my hair and clothes, hoping I look somewhat professional as I go to greet the lady who’s looking at the stack of sweaters I just folded.

I show her my favorite black one we got in yesterday. As she’s browsing, I walk back over to Luke and notice he’s blushing. His scruff almost hides it, but I can see the hint of pink on the apples of his cheeks. He reaches out and pulls me to him, breathing heavily into my hair. Fuck. That was him, not me...but I second that emotion. “I should go,” he finally says, stepping away from me. We both know neither of us wants him to leave, but I have work to do, and it most certainly won’t get done if he stays.

I walk him to the door, and just before he crosses the threshold, he turns to me and asks, “Can I have your phone number?”

The smile that splits my face physically hurts. I take his phone and type my number into his contact list. He reaches over to claim it and kisses my cheek in the process before walking out the door and leaving me in a puddle on the floor.

§

Sadie still isn’t taking my calls. I know I should let her be, but I need to see her. I want to know if she’s okay. The last time I saw her, she was lying in a hospital bed a sobbing mess. For the first time in my life, she was honest with me. She told the truth—owned up to her addictions and stopped using me for an excuse. It released me that day. As painful as it was to listen to, something happened inside me. I started letting go of the guilt that had taken up residence deep inside me.

I forgive her. I don’t know if I’m supposed to or if she deserves it, but I do.

And I love her. Even if I shouldn’t.

As I walk up the sidewalk approaching the rehab facility, my stomach twists. This is the first time I’ve been here since the day I ran out after kissing Luke and jeopardizing his job. My life was spiraling out of control back then, and it was nearly impossible for me to see a way out. It’s hard to believe that was only four months ago. So much has happened since then. And oddly enough, I wouldn’t take any of it back; not even the part where my life was spiraling because that’s what put me on the path I’m on today, and for that, I’m grateful.

Today’s visit is multi-purposed. First, I’m here to see Sadie if she’ll see me. And second, I’m hoping to run into Luke. I just saw him two nights ago when he came to the shop, but I miss him already. Now that he's opened the floodgates by kissing me and demanding to know what I want, I can't help myself. Our weekly visits at Mr. Chan's aren't enough any longer.

“Can I help you?” the lady sitting at the front desk asks as I walk up.

“Yes, I’m here to see Sadie Evans,” I tell her, offering her my driver’s license.

She’s quiet for a minute as she clicks her mouse and stares at the computer screen in front of her. “It doesn’t look like Mrs. Evans has anyone on her approved visitor list at this time,” she says apologetically.

I frown and feel the disappointment sinking in.

“Is that doctor-ordered or her preference?” I ask, not sure if I want to know the answer. If she’s intentionally shutting me out, that hurts. Now that she’s begun to open up, I was hoping we could at least talk.

“I can’t say for sure.”

“Is there someone else I can speak to? Her therapist or a doctor?” I ask, feeling frustrated.

Looking up from her computer, she picks up a pink message pad. “I can leave a note for someone to call you.”

I let out a sigh and nod my head. “Okay.” She takes my name and number, informing me someone will call as soon as possible. “Can you at least tell me if she’s doing okay?” I ask, needing some kind of information before I leave.

“That’s something you’ll have to discuss with her doctor when he calls.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

Backing away from the desk, I look around for any signs of Luke. I could text him now that I have his number, but I don't want to bother him while he's working. Reluctantly, I head for the front doors and back out onto the sidewalk.

“Harper.” I hear his voice before I see him. “Harper,” he calls again before I turn around. Luke is walking toward me down the sidewalk, and I feel the disappointment from not seeing my mother fade.

It’s hard not to ogle him. He’s in a dress shirt that fits him like a glove. His sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, and they tighten as he shoves his hands down into the pockets of his slacks. The beard he was sporting only days ago has been trimmed down to a well-groomed scruff, and his hair is a bit shorter. It makes his deep blue eyes stand out even more than they normally do, and I find it hard to form a coherent thought.

“Hey,” I manage to say.

“Hey.” His lips curl up into a small smile, and his eyes squint a little. “I was hoping I’d see you before Wednesday.”

“Yeah, Wednesday seemed too far away,” I admit, causing his smile to grow.

“How’s Sadie?” he asks.

“She’s not taking visitors.” The smile he put on my face fades. “The lady at the front desk told me one of Sadie’s doctors would call me.”

He lets out a deep sigh and takes a step closer, reaching his hand out and placing it on my hip. He pulls me to him, closing the small distance between us, and kisses the top of my head. “I’m sorry.”

It’s two words, but the understanding and empathy behind them is what makes my heart feel better and worse all at the same time. I exhale and lean into him, resting my cheek on his chest. I think what I love the most is that he doesn't say something just to try to make me feel better.

He tilts his head down until his lips brush against my cheek. “Anything I can do?”

I shake my head. “No. I'm not putting you in that position.”

“I’m no longer her therapist. It would be okay for me to give her a message from you.”

“I can't ask you to do that.”

“I’d do it for you.”

Tears sting my eyes, but I blink them away. I don’t want to cry. If Sadie doesn’t want to see me, or can’t, I’ll respect that. I don’t understand it, but I’ve spent my entire life not understanding her. Why should that change now?

“I’ll just wait to hear from her doctor.”

Luke nods his head and squeezes me a little tighter. “You gonna be okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine... I’ll be fine.” I give him a smile, a weak one, but I don’t feel the need to put up pretenses with him.

“I’ve gotta get back to work, but I’ll call you later.”

“Okay.”

He backs away slowly, like he doesn’t want to leave, and I kind of love it. Because I don’t want him to either.

“Glad you got to see me,” he says with a teasing smirk before turning around and walking toward the door.

I can’t help but laugh and roll my eyes.

I continue to watch the view for a few more seconds before I slip my hands into my pockets and turn to walk away. That’s when I feel the Kit Kat I picked up for Sadie on my way over. It was meant to be a peace offering, and I’d still like her to have it.

“Luke,” I call after him, running to catch up. “Can you give this to her?”

He smiles when he sees the candy bar in my hand. “Yeah, I’ll make sure she gets it.” His eyes meet mine, and we stay locked in a gaze for longer than I’d normally be comfortable with, if it was anyone else. But it’s Luke, and I could stay locked in his gaze forever.

I wish I knew what he was thinking.

I wish I could kiss him.

As if he could read my mind, he leans down and captures my lips with his. It’s quick and soft and sweet, but I feel it in every inch of my body, all the way down to my toes, and it leaves me wanting more.

“I’ll call you later.” He’s a little breathless, and his eyes are hooded and dark. And then he’s gone. But I’ll be thinking about that kiss until the next one.

§

I just saw Luke on Saturday, but it feels like it’s been an eternity.

He called me Saturday evening while he was walking home from work and let me know he delivered the Kit Kat to Sadie. He said she seemed kind of sad but that it also made her smile.

He called me again on Sunday evening, and we talked about meeting up for coffee, but I was still preparing for a test on Monday, so I stayed home and did the responsible thing by studying. I haven’t come this far to mess it up now.

Last night, he waited until he was back at his apartment to call me, and I couldn’t help picturing him standing in his living room in those gray sweatpants, looking out the large window. The image in my mind is so vivid, but it also feels like a dream, like another lifetime.

As much as I want to forget everything that happened before, I don’t want to forget that...him. Slowly, the mysterious man from the window is morphing into this new Luke who is tangible and real.

When I get to the crosswalk by Mr. Chan’s, I look up to see Luke standing outside of the restaurant.

He’s wearing a coat that buttons up the front. The collar is turned up, and a scarf is tucked inside, more for style than warmth. The way he’s leaning up against the side of the building makes him look like a runway model. These are the moments when I think he can’t be real and that there’s no way he wants me.

But then he looks at me, like he’s doing right now, and I forget about pasts and insecurities. I smile and wave as I cross the street, and he meets me at the curb.

“I was getting ready to come find you.” His arms wrap around me and pull me in. I feel his nose in my hair as he inhales deeply. “God, I missed you.”

“Sorry. I was late getting out of the library.” I can’t help but giggle, latching on to the lapels of his jacket and pulling him closer. “I missed you too.”

His lips brush my cheek, and then he leans back to look me in the eyes. “Have you had a good week?”

“It’s better now.”

“Good. Let’s get some soup.”

He takes my hand as we walk to the door, and it feels so good. I’m glad I still haven’t found my gloves because I’d hate to miss out on the feel of his skin on mine, even in this small dose. But it makes me want more.

Mr. Chan is standing behind the counter, and a sly smile graces his face when he sees me and Luke walk in together.

“Hey, Mr. Chan,” I say as we walk up to the counter.

“Harper,” Mr. Chan says, nodding his head.

“Got another A on a test,” I tell him, slipping the paper out of my pocket and setting it on top of the counter.

He beams at me as he looks at the piece of paper. “You do good work. Mr. Chan proud of you.”

“Thanks.” I can’t help the smile on my face. Making the old man proud of me has become my new favorite pastime. I feel Luke’s hand on the small of my back, and then it slips to my hip, and he pulls me into his side, kissing the top of my head.

“Two soups,” Mr. Chan says. “Extra wontons.” One of his eyebrows shoots up as he looks at Luke, and I wonder if that’s his warning glare or something. I feel Luke chuckle, and he kisses me again as Mr. Chan prepares our soup.

When he slides our trays over to us, one of them has a small brown sack like the ones he used to give me with food in it. “What’s this?” I ask as Luke pays.

“Gloves,” Mr. Chan says with a nod, handing Luke back his change. “No more cold hands.”

I shake my head and look into the bag. There’s a pair of purple gloves inside, and I smile, feeling a lump form in my throat. Taking them out, I slip one on, and it fits perfectly...like a glove. No pun intended. Leaning over the counter, I plant a big kiss on Mr. Chan’s cheek, and he chuckles. “Thank you, Mr. Chan. I love them,” l tell him, trying to keep my voice even.

“Good.” His expression tells me he’s pleased with himself, and that makes me happy. “Now, go eat soup.”

Luke takes both of our trays, and I follow him to our table, slipping the gloves into my pockets.

We eat and talk. Our conversation drifts from Sadie to my classes, and occasionally, we’ll comment on someone passing by our window. Luke shares a little about a new case he’s working on. He doesn’t give me details, of course, but he’s struggling with how to help, and he needs someone to listen. I don’t mind being that someone. In fact, I love being that someone.

When we’ve both been finished eating for a while, Luke stands, and I’m worried he’s ready to leave.

I’m not ready.

I know it’s late, later than we normally stay, but I know Mr. Chan doesn’t mind. He cleans for at least an hour after closing.

“Wait right here,” Luke says, taking our trays and walking toward the counter.

I turn around to see Mr. Chan exchange the trays for another brown paper sack. The smile on Luke’s face tells me he’s up to something, but I don’t know what. It’s a boyish smile, one I haven’t seen before, and I love it.

“What?” I ask as he sits back down across from me.

He doesn’t reply. He simply takes out a familiar blue carton and sits it on the table between us. After popping the lid, he grabs two spoons out of the bag. Before handing me one, he gets a scoop of ice cream and holds it to my mouth. I’m caught off guard and trying not to show it, so I slowly open my mouth and take in the ice cream, letting it melt on my tongue.

Chunks of fudge and bits of brownie tantalize with the underlying flavor of delicious coffee, and it makes me moan my approval. Closing my eyes, I swallow it down.

I hear Luke clear his throat, and I open my eyes to see him biting his lip and shaking his head. Without saying anything, he hands me the now empty spoon and shifts in his chair.

“I, uh...I was hoping you’d like it.”

“I’ve never had this one before,” I tell him, going in for another bite. If he expected me to be ladylike and not take big heaping spoonfuls, he’s mistaken. I watch him as he watches me. “It’s delicious.”

“I stood in the aisle for at least fifteen minutes trying to decide which one to buy.”

I smile because I used to do the same thing, but it’s been a while. I bought a couple of pints a few weeks ago, but I took the easy road and bought plain vanilla and Phish Food.

“This one made me think of you,” he says, his cheeks turning a light shade of pink. He turns the carton around, and I look at the name: Brewed to Matter. I give him a smile before popping another bite into my mouth.

“I always pictured myself as vanilla,” I admit.

“You’re so not vanilla.”