“H-here?” she croaks.
“Mm-hm.” I take a step closer and pull her into my arms.
“Why here?”
God, she's adorable. “Because you had a rough day, and while Hollis might be my number one priority, his mom is definitely a close second.”
I should tell her the truth, that she's tied for first, but I'm really not trying to show all my cards while she's on the verge of a mental breakdown. Instead, I'll play it safe, like I always do, and make sure she knows I'm here for her. Because I am.
Day or night.
Whenever she needs me.
Instead of fighting it, she leans into my arms and allows me to comfort her.
It takes a few glasses of wine, but eventually Em actually starts to laugh. My mom sent me a video of Hollis eating a giant spoonful of icing. You can hear her in the background telling him that he's supposed to put it on the cake, not eat it, but he doesn't care. He happily shoves the spoon in his mouth and smiles at the camera with icing all around his lips.
“You do know he's never going to sleep tonight, right?” Em wincing.
I chuckle and toss my phone onto the coffee table. “Her fault. Who gives a four-year-old a tub of icing right before bedtime?”
“Fair point.” She plays with the rim of her glass, staring at the wine like it's the most amazing thing she's ever seen. “Is it weird that I miss him already?”
“No,” I answer immediately. “Not at all, because I do, too. But I'm also enjoying this.”
Emery finally looks up at me and I can see the wonder dancing in her eyes. “You are?”
My brows furrow. “Aren't you?”
“I am,” she assures me. “That's not what I meant. I just figured you were only hanging around all the time for Hollis.”
“You mean, our son who goes to bed by seven every night?” I tease. “Sounds logical.”
She throws her head back and giggles. “Harland.”
“No, no,” I press with a smile. “It makes total sense that I would spend the entire evening here because of a kid who goes to sleep before the sun goes down.”
“Well, I don't know.” She reaches over and puts her glass on the coffee table, but I'm stuck on the way she licks the excess wine off of her lips.
“Don't you, though?”
Our gazes lock, and it's like neither one of us can look away. I can see the way her chest rises and falls with every breath, but her attention stays on me. Reaching forward, I tuck a stray hair behind her ear and a blush coats her cheeks.
“H,” she whispers.
My hand lingers there, on the side of her face. I know I should stop. I should pull my hand away and move to the other side of the damn room, but tell that to my body that won't seem to listen. We both lean in slowly, but before I let myself have what I've been craving for months, I press my forehead against hers. After everything that happened tonight, I worry she's too vulnerable right now to realize what she's doing.
“If we do this, if we cross this line, there's no going back for me. I need you to know that,” I tell her. “I don't want secret hookups in the dark. I don't want to hide it from my family. If we do this, it's real. I can't handle it being anything less.”
She stares back at me with both fear and clarity. “Good, because I can't either.”
Her words are all I need to close the gap, pressing my lips to hers in a kiss that's nearly five years overdue. As her fingers lace into my hair and her tongue tangles with my own, I can't help but think about how this is what I should've been doing since the night Hollis was conceived. I never should have run scared. I never should have chosen Lindsey.
It's always been her.
I growl under my breath as I try to get through the crowd. I woke up this morning with an extra pep in my step. After connecting with Em last night, I couldn't be in a better mood. Granted, I have what is probably the worst case of blue balls I've ever had, but it was worth it. We made out for hours and then fell asleep with her exactly where she belongs—wrapped in my arms.
When I left her apartment, she was still sound asleep. I left a note on the nightstand letting her know that I was going for coffee and to pick up Hollis and that I'd be back. What I didn't expect, however, was for someone to notice me while inside the coffee shop. By the time I walked out, there was a whole mob of fans and photographers. A mob I'm still trying to get through.
“Harland!” a girl screams in my ear. “Oh my God! I love you so much. Can I get a picture?”
“Sure, love.”
I pose for a few pictures, hoping it will make them happy enough to give me space to get through. Flashes from paparazzi cameras come from all directions while they shout questions at me.
How do you feel about your failed engagement?
When is the band going back on tour?
The fans want to know, is there any hope for you and Lindsey to get back together?
After what she did? No.
After the night I just spent with Emery? Fuck no.
I push through the crowd and finally make it to my car. Thankfully, they all have enough sense to move out of the way so I don't hit them, but I know I'm far from safe when I see a couple of the pushier photographers jump into their cars to follow me.
Great.
Reaching to pull my phone from my pocket, I try to call the police. Usually they'll pull them over for reckless driving. However, my phone is completely dead.
I'm on my own.
It takes an extra half-hour for me to lose them, turning down side streets and alleyways that only a local would know. I finally pull up to my house long after the time I had hoped. Emery is bound to be awake by now.
I climb out of my car and head for the door when a familiar voice meets my ears.
“Hey, H.”
Stopping in my tracks, I throw my head back and groan. “Today is really not my fucking day.”
I stand there for a second and hope she'll go away, but if I've learned anything about this girl over the last eleven years, it's that she's like a bad fucking rash. She'll stand there for as long as it takes, and if I don't talk to her, it'll be worse.
“What the hell are you doing here, Lindsey?” I ask as I turn around.
She looks down at the ground and then back up to me, trying to be flirty. “I've missed you.”
I snort. “That's rich.”
My eyes rake over her, and I genuinely wonder what I ever saw in her. Her makeup is caked on, as if she can hide the ugly inside. Her clothes cling to her body, seeming two sizes too small, and she has her shirt pulled down so low that her tits are almost spilling from it. If she thinks that's going to win me back, it's not. She doesn't hold a candle to the girl I woke up next to this morning.
“Go home, Linds.”
She starts to scowl but quickly masks it over with a smirk. “I am home, Harland. You're my home.”
I shake my head. “No. Your actual home, or whatever dude's bed you've been sleeping in the last couple months.”
“Oh, come on. You don't mean that.”
“I sure as shit do. I don't want you here.”