Chapter 18
Harlow
After lunch with my father, he invited me back to the house. He told me that mom was anxious to see me and hear all about my first week at my apartment, so I relented and followed him back home. I was still uneasy around him. I still didn’t have the greatest feeling in the pit of my stomach. I had picked around on my plate and eaten a few bites to keep him off my back, but all I wanted to do was throw it up. My father was being shady. Dodgy. Talking around the truth instead of giving it to me straight.
It was so unlike him, and it made me worried for him.
I pulled up into the driveway of my childhood home and sighed. I had loved this place as a child, but now that I had my own place it resembled a sort of decadent prison. A place where my father had total control and my mother and I went along with things. It was so weird, how just one conversation could shed a new light on a place someone thought they knew so well. My childhood home had gone from a place of fantasies and dreams to a place of questions and unresolved issues in a matter of a couple of hours.
“You want some wine? I have your favorite stocked,” my father said.
“Actually, wine sounds really nice,” I said.
“Come on. I’ll get you a big glass.”
“But not too big. I have to drive home in a bit.”
I could see the sadness that rolled over my father’s eyes when I said that. He was trying everything in his power to get me to move back in. I wasn’t sure why this was so hard on him. I mean, I’d lived with him for the better part of half my life. I was an adult. A fully employed adult with health benefits, a car payment, a paycheck, and a Bachelor’s and Master’s degree. What did he expect from me? To live with him and Mom until they died of old age?
I watched my father pour us both a glass before we sat down at the breakfast nook. It was my favorite place in the entire house. It overlooked the massive backyard my parents had, and my mother always kept up the garden. No matter what she had to plant, it was always blooming with life. This year, she’d gone with roses, daisies, sunflowers, and some scattered tulips. She had hung up hummingbird feeders and set out a few last-minute plants that catered to the bees and the butterflies. Our backyard had always been buzzing with life, and as a child, I enjoyed running through the rows of flowers and giggling at all the animals.
“Your mother will be so excited to see you,” my father said.
“It’ll be nice to see her, too,” I said.
“She misses you, you know.”
“I miss her as well. But I’m glad to be out on my own.” I saw another wave of sadness and concern wash over his face.
“Are you sure this apartment is what you want?” my father asked. “Because if it’s not for you, then we’ll do whatever you need here. We can put you in the guesthouse out back. I’ll have a driveway for you paved right up to it. You won’t even have to cross through the house to get to it. If you want to feel authentic, we’ll even charge you rent for it. No curfews, no required family dinners. Nothing like that.”
“Dad, you have sad this all before. I know you and Mom mean well. And I know you guys have kept a tight hold on me for many reasons. But this is healthy for me. You raised me to be strong and… and independent. That’s something to be proud of. Not stifle,” I said.
“I’m not trying to stifle you, honey. I’m just trying to keep you safe.” Safe? What was his obsession with keeping me safe?
“What? Because of your job? Daddy, you defend people who are innocent, right? Why are you all of a sudden so insistent on the fact that I’m not safe? What have you gotten yourself into?”
I watched a bit of shock roll across his features before his phone rang out on his hip. I sighed and sank into the nook, trying to distract myself with the wildlife growing outside. My father mumbled into his phone a few times before hanging up, and I knew exactly what that meant.
“I need to step out to the office, princess,” he said.
“I know. I know what those phone calls sound like now.”
“I’m sorry. I really had a great time with you at lunch,” he said.
“I don’t know what you’ve done Dad, but be careful,” I said.
“I haven’t done anything, sweetie. Everything’s fine.”
“You’re not acting like things are fine. I’m a psychologist, Dad. And that comes with some territory even you can’t get away from. You’ve been panicked and on edge all day. So unless something’s going on with you and Mom, it’s work. So just… listen to me for once and be careful.”
I met my father’s eyes before he nodded his head. He downed the rest of his wine in a few well-timed gulps, then took his glass to the sink. I sighed as I listened to his footsteps recede down the hallway, resolving myself to a moment of silence in a home that now felt more like a cage.
“You really should wait for your mother,” my father called out. “She’d love to see you.”
“Wasn’t planning on leaving,” I said as I sipped my wine.
I closed my eyes as I listened to my father’s car crank up. Tears sprang to my eyes along with uncontrollable emotions with an origin point I still wasn’t aware of. How had this day gone so wrong so quickly? I woke up in Fox’s arms, I was probably going to see him tonight, and in between, I was supposed to have a good conversation with my father over a really nice lunch.
What the hell had happened?
My phone rang again in my purse, and I sighed. I just wanted one moment of fucking peace. I ripped my phone from my pocket and saw Fox was calling, and I debated on not picking it up.
But he had already called so many times today, and a part of me wondered if he was okay.
“Hello?”
“Harlow. Hey. How are you?” Fox asked.
“I’m okay. Just sipping on some wine. How’s work going?” I asked.
“Same old, same old. Listen, where are you?”
“Uh… I’m at my parent’s house. Why?” I asked.
“Just wondering. I was wondering if I could come by and see you.”
“You seem a little out of breath. Are you riding on your bike right now?”
“Work ended a bit early. Some easy problems to solve. Figured we could spend a little more time with one another.”
“I could call you once I’m done visiting with my mom.”
“I kind of want to see you now.”
He sounded a bit on edge, but I couldn’t help the smile that crossed my cheeks. He wanted to see me as quickly as he could, and it made me feel special. I grinned as I sipped on my wine, listening to his bike roar in the background. I wished I was on the back of it with him. Riding with the wind in my hair and my arms slinked around his strong body.
“Sure. That’s fine,” I said. “Do you want directions or the address?”
“Address is fine. I can punch it into my GPS. What is the address of where you are?”
I rattled off my address to him before I hung up the phone. Excitement bubbled in my gut as I finished off the rest of my glass of wine. Daddy had just left for work, and my mother wouldn’t be back home for another little while. She was either out with her friends or out shopping, and either activity usually kept her out until around four. That gave Fox a couple of hour’s worth of a window where we would be alone.
And thoughts I had never dreamed of before were beginning to run through my head.
I thought about having sex with him in my childhood room. My parents had a massive walk-in shower and a jet tub. I bet the two of us could fit into those nicely. I thought about the plush carpet in the guest bedroom. How soft it was underneath my toes.
I bet it would be soft underneath my knees as well.
I was excited to see Fox, but I didn’t know why it had to be now. I was flattered he wanted to see me, but there was an urgency in his voice that didn’t sound good. I pushed the thought away as I slipped into the bathroom, cleaning myself up a bit and putting on some lip gloss. I didn’t have any other makeup with me so I would look pretty plain, but it was better than nothing.
Besides, Fox did just get off work. Maybe he sounded urgent because things hadn’t gone as smoothly as he was saying.
Like my father had been at lunch.
I cursed myself as I sat down on the couch. I tried to calm the swirling thoughts in my mind as it ran away from me. Connections Fox could’ve had with my father and how he could somehow be wrapped up into what my dad had gotten himself into. I pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes as I sighed, relegating myself to the fleeting voices that wouldn’t fucking shut up.
I wanted to see Fox, but now I was starting to debate whether or not he should’ve been coming over. I kept replaying our conversation in my mind. The urgency of his voice and the insistence that he see me now. Was Fox in trouble, too? Was it the same kind of trouble that my father was in? Men were shit when it came to keeping their worries and fears under wraps. My mother had been the best at it, but even when things got hard for her, she cracked underneath the pressure.
I wasn’t sure if I could take any more vaguely-answered questions today.
That was it. I was going to call Fox and tell him he couldn’t come over. I would tell him to meet me at my place once I was done talking with my mother. I knew my mother would help me settle down a bit. She would probably have answers as to why dad was acting the way he was, then I could turn my attention towards Fox.
But as I went to pick up my phone, I heard a bike rumbling down the road.
It pulled right into the driveway of the house.
And all of my worries melted away.