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  After I finish rattling off the order, I sense Norah’s eyes on the side of my face. I turn to her with a smile fixed on my face. “Let’s see if he gets it right,” I exclaim.

  “You’re so pretty,” Norah says. “And intelligent, and every other wonderful thing that can be used as a descriptive word. I have to admit I didn’t believe him when he told me his best friend was a girl,” she says, pausing to look over my head. “Or rather, it’s possible, but there’s always something more.” When I don’t answer, she goes on. “It truly is just a friendship, though, isn’t it?” This is the moment to tell her the gritty truth. That love doesn’t exist outside of Ben for me, that the only man who has ever held my heart does so wearing a warm pair of gloves that are fit to size.

  The bartender slides two drinks toward me. Swallowing down the fear, I decide on a half-truth. “I love Ben. He’s been in my life for as long as I can remember. He’ll always be in my life if he wants me there. We’re just friends, Norah. I promise.”

  She smiles, as she reaches out to take one of the drinks. “I feel foolish for asking. He told me the same thing. Women’s intuition, I guess. It’s off!” Norah laughs, and I could shake her. She’s not off. She sees what I’m too scared to admit.

  The other drinks arrive. “Don’t feel bad. We get it a lot. It took Marcus a long time to accept the friendship. It is that, though. Just a friendship.” One a lifetime long with more love than most people accumulate in eighty years.

  She nods. “Thank you, Harper. I hope you approve of me, because I love that man and I know he wants your approval. I think it’s why he finally let me meet you.”

  All I can do is grin and tell her there’s no way he puts that much weight into my approval. Making our way back to our table takes longer than it should. My feet feel heavy and I’m not ready for any more of this group date.

  Right before we sit down she whispers something into my ear that makes every hair on my body stand on end. It was supposed to be a sweet sentiment. She laughed when she whispered it—made it seem like a joke. She told me she wanted Ben until death do them part.

  Chapter Ten

  Ben

  You can change what you want, but you can’t change the way you want things. Fuck knows I’ve tried. Harper calls almost every day now that she knows I’m serious about Norah. While I tell myself I want Norah, I can’t squelch the ever present desire to have Harper. I’m doubtful anything divine or otherwise will change that fact.

  Norah is sitting in front of me, cross-legged, her long blond hair piled high on her head. With a mischievous grin she lays down three kings. “Wasn’t Rummy your idea because you thought you could finally beat me on game night?” She’s intelligent, beautiful, and has a soft-spoken charm that negates the first two facts. Norah was raised in a middle-class family, same as my own, and has the same quality that draws me to women. She’s searching for something inside of me that will complete her. It’s self-destructive, but she doesn’t know that. None of them do.

  Sighing, I lay down three aces. “It was,” I return, leaning over to peck her mouth. I know she has the fourth ace. She will never discard an ace. Which usually always ends up being a detriment when I go out and she has to deduct the points from her hand. “What were you saying again?” I tease lightly. I look forward to this day all week when I’m in town. It’s the night where I let myself eat carbs, and drink booze, and have as much skin to skin contact with my girlfriend as I possibly can. I feel human—I’m more than what I do.

  Norah’s melodic laugh is cut short by the shrill pierce of my doorbell. “I’ll get it. Go grab the popcorn from the microwave,” she says, laying a soft hand on the side of my face. The doorbell rings again, more frantically—someone slamming it over and over.

  Narrowing my eyes, I follow Norah as she rushes to the front door. “Did you order food or something?” I ask, peering out the geometric printed curtains Norah hung when she deemed my windows too naked last week. I don’t see any cars parked out by the street. Nothing to indicate we have a visitor.

  “No,” she replies, shrugging and throwing the door open with all the care of a bulldozer. A wave of unease filters through the air and saturates the deep breath I inhale.

  “Is he home? Is Ben home?” I hear her voice and the tenor and know it’s not good. Watching Norah’s profile as she takes in Harper confirms my most dismal suspicions.

  “What happened? Oh my God, Harper, what the hell happened?” Norah murmurs, pulling her into her arms. “Where’s your car?” Norah narrows her gaze out the door and looks both left and right while Harper buries her face in the front of her T-shirt.

  “Close the door,” Harper whispers. It takes all of these seconds for me to make my brain behave the way it should have—the way it would have if some bad guy with a bomb strapped to his chest came through my front door. Somehow Harper sobbing in my doorway turns my voice box to ice and my feet to lead.

  Harper calls my name again, asking for me.

  “What happened?” I croak.

  She turns out of Norah’s embrace and faces me. Her body relaxes almost completely at the mere sound of my voice. The opposite of relaxation washes over me when I see her face.

  The second I see her cheek, she turns her gaze to the floor. “I’m fine. Can we talk? I’m fine, really.” I know enough about women to know when they say they’re fine, the opposite is true.

  Harper meets my eyes. Hers are red and ringed with black makeup. Apart from the dark red mark on her cheekbone, there are red splotches on her neck. The very same neck I cherish has been marred by hands. Large ones.

  “Come on. Let’s talk,” I say, gesturing toward the couch.

  Harper brushes past me and sinks down into the sofa, pulling one of the new throw pillows onto her lap. She puts her chin on it and keeps her gaze pointed at the floor.

  Norah has already vanished into the bedroom. Shaking my head, I sit next to Harper and pull her into my chest. She breathes in deeply once and then falls apart.

  “I hope I’m wrong, Harper, but if I’m not, you need to start at the beginning.”

  “Which beginning?” she asks, sobbing. “There are so many.”

  “Please tell me you called the cops.”

  She nods against my chest. “Of course I did. Which makes this so much worse.”

  I clear my throat. “I need to hear you say it. All of it.”

  Harper leans away, as if finally realizing our seating position might not be chaste and friendly enough. She pulls her cell phone out of her sweater pocket, hiccups, and scrolls until she finds what she’s looking for, and hands me the phone. It’s a screenshot of my Insta photo of Harper, at the concert, on her birthday. “He saw it,” she whispers. “Marcus saw it. I told him it was nothing, but he’s been acting strange since our double date—says I don’t look at him the same way I look at you.” Harper lowers her voice as her gaze darts to my closed bedroom door.

  “I don’t have him on my account,” I say, finality in my voice. Like I can erase this by using reason.

  She ignores me, still staring off toward my bedroom. “Because I won’t marry him.”

  I close my eyes and blow out a breath. My heart rate accelerates as my mind tries to pick apart every angle she could be aiming for. “We’re getting off topic. Tell me what happened.” I brush my fingers across her cheek and wince when she does.

  Harper puts her face in her hands, mindful of her cheekbone, and speaks low, “You don’t have him on your account. You have some bottle blonde named Sexy Jenny, though. He created a fake profile to add you. He thought he’d have a better chance at stalking you if he was a twenty-something chick. And it worked.”

  My stomach sinks. I know exactly who she’s talking about. Even though my profile is private I’ll add people I don’t know every once in a while. I remember wondering who the chick was, but I’d had a few beers and she was blonde and hot.

  “He called me a slut. A commitment-phobe who’d rather fuck around with guys like you
than marry men like him.” She raises her head and looks at me. “He’s been under a lot of pressure here,” she explains.

  I shake my head. “Don’t you fucking dare stand up for him.” My voice booms, echoing off the walls.

  Norah won’t come out. She probably won’t even listen to our conversation.

  Harper takes my hands in hers. “I get it, Ben. He moved here for me, with me, to be with me, and I keep turning him down. I’m not making excuses for him, because we both know there’s no excuse for this,” she explains, gesturing to her face and then neck. “He saw the photo and got mad.” She shrugs. “It happened so fast. We were talking one second and I was on the ground the next. He didn’t hit me. He grabbed me by the throat, told me to stop feeding him bullshit excuses, and then threw me into the desk.” She rubs her face. “I caught the corner. Or rather, my face caught the corner.”

  “This is my fault,” I say, nodding. “My photo caused this.” I stand, untangling myself from her. I run my hands through my hair and look at the ceiling. With Harper at my back I listen to her finish the story. She gives me the facts as detailed as she can in between sobs. She begs me not to tell her parents, and asks if she can stay with me for a little while. I answer immediately that she can without thinking about any repercussions. Without thinking about the woman in the other room.

  “I called Marcus’ brother to let him know what happened and he’s going to come out and stay at our place for a while. Try to see if he can help him or…I don’t know. Be there for him. Marcus was sorry right away. I’d almost think it was an accident if…” Harper trails off.

  “If what?” I spin to face her.

  She swallows hard. “If I hadn’t been scared of him in the past, too. He’s been weird before and it’s worried me. Nothing like this, though. I don’t want you to think I’ll go back to him. I won’t, Ben. I never would have stayed with him this long if he’d shown these tendencies before now. It was always just words and tone.”

  “And you stayed?” I ask, furrowing my brow. Her statement causes me physical pain. I palm my chest. Lowering my voice, I say, “You got weird vibes and you stayed with him instead of…” I trail off. My insides are coiling in regret. How easily could she have been led away if I had stayed my course in pursuing her in all ways. If I hadn’t taken no for an answer. If we’d embraced what we’ve had our entire lives.

  She slams her eyes tight. When she opens them she’s gazing at my bedroom door with a pitiful look in her eye. “I know.” Is all she says. “The cops came and took our statements and because of my face, they took him away. Do you know what he said when they were putting him in the back of the cruiser?”

  It’s rhetorical, because I can see her mind working. “He told me I could run to you so you can make it all go away—so you could make everything all better.”

  “I’m going to kill him,” I say, my words cracking like kindling hitting fire. “String him up by his toes and bleed him until he’s dry.”

  “He’s right, Ben.” Her voice shakes. Like the realization is just as bad as what he’s stolen from her.

  I place my hands on my hips to keep from reaching out for her. “Nothing is right about him. Look what he did to you.” The distance is too much. She feels the same because she stands up as I approach and I fold her into my arms. The Harper well is filling. I breathe in her hair and tuck my face into the crook of her long neck. I kiss her there, where his fingerprints stained her creamy, delicate skin.

  “You make it all better,” she whispers. It’s like we’re kids again and I’m helping her with her homework or playing pranks on the mean girls to make her smile. It’s not that easy anymore. Life is far more complicated than that.

  I hear the bedroom door open as I’m pressing another kiss against Harper’s rapid pulse.

  “Is everything okay out here? Harper? Are you okay?”

  I don’t even pull away from the embrace. It’s that comforting—that satisfying, even given the horrendous circumstances. Let Norah see it all. She’s about to know everything anyway.

  “Harper’s going to stay here for a bit,” I say as explanation.

  ++++

  Norah comes through the front door pulling the last suitcase. Harper follows a second later with an armful of text books. She’s parked down the street in an alleyway to hide her car, and refuses to move it until she’s sure of his brother’s arrival. I wish he’d come to my house looking for her, but she’s a pacifist and I know I won’t win this argument today.

  My anger is tempered by the fact that she’s here. More so than she’s ever been.

  Harper heaves the texts down on a writing desk in the corner of my living room. “You don’t mind if I work here?” she asks Norah.

  I finally have her where I’ve always wanted her…where she’s always wanted to be, and yet it took far more than it should have.

  My girlfriend pats her back. Not in a condescending manner, but in a way that tells me she’s as good as I always assumed she was. “Work wherever you want. I don’t mind at all. It’s Ben’s house, after all.” They exchange polite smiles and my fraction of happiness fades as a new realization dawns. Norah might not possess the intuition to understand the severity of what’s happening. “Let me know if you need anything. I’m headed into work for a bit and I can swing by the store and pick up anything you want that Ben doesn’t have.” Norah glances at me, a small, sweeping smile lighting her face.

  I back away, terrified of what this means, knowing exactly what I’ll need to do to her. In favor of agreeing with her or replying at all, I grab one of Harper’s bags, one I know is her bathroom stuff, and disappear into the hallway.

  Norah pokes her head in, her brows raised. Clearing her throat, she says, “Harper didn’t need anything. I’ll leave you guys alone tonight. I’m sure you have a lot to talk about. She gave me the gist of it on the walk to her car.” Norah pauses, waiting to see if I’ll offer anything further. When I don’t, she whispers, “I can’t believe he did that.”

  Looking at myself in the bathroom mirror, I see a traitor. A coward of a man. A man who protects innocent people for a career, but couldn’t protect the person he loves the most in the entire world. “I know,” I say, voice low.

  “Are you okay?” Norah asks, tilting my face to hers, using her soft, cold hand.

  “I’m pissed, Norah. That’s all. Thank you for being so helpful, but you’re right. We have a lot to talk about tonight.”

  She holds out both palms in my direction. “I won’t be in your way. Say no more.”

  I scowl, eyes narrowed and lips pursed. “A month ago you were badgering me with questions about my feelings for her and now you’re okay with this?” Badgering is the wrong word, she merely asked, but I have a giant case of displaced anger.

  She looks away from me, but steps forward and closes the door behind her. “You told me she’s your best friend and that’s never going to change. Fine. I decided to look at her like your best friend. If she were a man, there would be no issues, so I try to have no issues. Harper told me that you guys were always only going to be friends.”

  My stomach sinks. “When did she say that?” I already know when, but I don’t want to talk and I need time to compose my thoughts.

  She tells me about the double date and what Harper said. I’m irritated Norah approached her to begin with, but I can also understand it completely. She clears her throat. I meet her eyes. “I’ll ask one more time, Ben. Only because I love you and I want a future with you. Do I need to be worried about your friendship?”

  I grab her face with both hands. Her pretty eyes and her thin lips are things I’ve found comfort in for a while now. A salve. A patch. She arrived in my life at the perfect time. “I love you, Norah,” I say, brushing my lips on hers. Her eyes flutter closed and then open again, searching mine in earnest. “But my friendship with Harper is something you should always be worried about.”

  Pressing her lips together, she leans her forehead on mine. “I already
knew that, though. Didn’t I? Guess I need some time to figure out if that’s something I’m willing to live with.” Maybe it’s that I’ll never be able to live without Harper. That the empty well inside me only craves one person, and even if I wanted to fill it with someone or something else, it would stay a dark, pitiful cavern of loneliness.

  “Any woman I’m ever with will have the same concern. She was first,” I explain, shrugging. “I can’t give you what’s already gone.”

  She’s too good for me. I’m left with a fleeting sense of guilt. I wish she were a one-night stand. Maybe then she’d smack me, storm off, and leave a dead fish in the back of my truck. Instead, she leaves the bathroom and my house quietly, asking once more if Harper needs anything before she leaves.

  Harper is in the kitchen making herself a sandwich when I finally steel myself away. My cell phone vibrates on the counter in front of her. She doesn’t look at it. She maintains pure focus on the ham and Swiss on rye. She has her hair pulled over the front of her neck, trying to hide the mark I desperately want to see.

  It’s work calling. With a pounding heart, I silence the call. Maybe if I silenced the call all those years ago this vision in my kitchen would be less of a nightmare. Harper licks her thumb to get errant mayonnaise off and puts the jar back in the refrigerator. “I still have the mustard out. Want one?” she asks, finally looking up. “You still hate mayo, right?”

  I nod, eyeing her neck. “No, thank you,” I growl.

  My cell phone starts buzzing again and I have to close my eyes and take a deep breath. Harper puts the knife down on the counter with a loud clank. She pulls her hair back and looks to the side. “What? Just say what’s on your mind.”

  The cell stops vibrating. I can think clearly. “How did we get so messed up? Why did we complicate things? We could have so easily been done. Happily ever after.”