“Thank you,” he says softly. “So, you adopted a dog?” He sits across from me, and Craig whines when he can’t reach Harlan any longer. Traitor. I get it, though. I want to reach out and touch him, too.
“I did. I’ve been thinking about it for a long time. It’s lonely in the house, and I figured since we didn’t make the playoffs, it was as good a time as any.” If that sounds pathetic, that’s because it is. “His name is Craig.” The pup in question is tugging incessantly at his leash, still trying to get closer to Harlan. I give in, allowing some slack so he can get closer. The moment he does, he plops down between Harlan’s feet and closes his eyes. I’m not jealous at all, obviously.
Before we get further into the conversation, Jordan returns with our waters. He goes over the daily specials, and I order a corned beef Reuben with a side of sweet potato fries. Harlan gets a grilled chicken BLT salad with ranch dressing. “I’ll get those orders right in for you,” Jordan assures us.
“Lan…” I start. I can’t meet his eyes as I take a deep breath and continue. “The way I behaved a few weeks ago is inexcusable. I am so sorry for putting you in that position.” Even if AJ hadn’t told me what a piece of shit I was, when I sobered up, the reality of what I had done hit me like a ton of bricks. I could hardly blame Harlan when he didn’t respond to my initial apology. I probably fucked things up for him with Oliver, and that knowledge is bittersweet. I never want to hurt Harlan, despite what happened between us. It’s clear that he’s doing so much better, and I’m guessing his boyfriend played a big part in that.
When he doesn’t respond right away, I look up to see him studying me. His expression is neutral, so I can’t figure out where his head is at. I hold my breath until he starts to speak. “It’s ok. I know that’s not who you are. I shouldn’t have been in that room. If I had been honest with myself, I probably shouldn’t have gone to the party.” He stops to sip his water, and I track the way his lips wrap around the straw. “I wasn’t ready to be in the house again, you know? I’m not sure I’d ever have been ready for that.”
It’s a fair concern, because I wasn’t ready to have him in the house. Those walls are full of memories at every turn. The holidays and celebrations we shared. Lazy Sunday mornings in the offseason. Even packing up the pictures of us hasn’t been enough. On particularly bad days, I considered paying someone to completely renovate the house. There are small pieces of Harlan woven into every piece of that place.
As hard as it is to ask, I do it anyway. I owe him this much. “Are things ok with you and Oliver?” The words taste bitter on my tongue, but if I have any hope of building a friendship with Harlan, I need to get past this. If Oliver makes him happy, and he’s good to him, I will have to be ok with that.You can do hard things. The words I told Harlan on our last night together come barreling down on me. Harlan is stronger than me, though.
“Things are fine.” His tone is hesitant, but I won’t push. “He’s back in San Francisco now, so the distance makes things a little harder.” I want to ask him if Oliver plans to move here. If I had to guess, Harlan does not plan to leave New York again.
As Jordan is dropping off our food, his phone buzzes on the table. When he flips it over, he visibly inhales before answering. “Hey, Oli.” I thank Jordan for our food and keep my eyes on Harlan. “I’m out to lunch with Darío. He was by the office for an appointment, so we met at Sugar and Spice.”
He listens intently to whatever Oliver is saying, and I wish he had it on speaker so I could hear. “I’m sorry. Of course I was going to mention it to you, but it was last-minute.” Taking another breath, he listens as his brows crease, and he frowns. I want to reach across the table and smooth his worry lines. “Yeah, of course. I’ll be home later. I miss you too.” He disconnects.
“Lan, if us having lunch is an issue, I don’t want to get in the way of your relationship,” I say, even though I’m not sure if I can handle not having him in my life now that he’s in Brooklyn. But I can’t be selfish with him. He’s not mine, and I don’t want to ruinthis for him. We may not be what I had envisioned for us, but I have to be ok with whatever is going to keep him whole. He made the choice that broke us, but I made the choice to be done and demanded no contact. I can’t do something that’s going to hurt him.
“No, there’s nothing wrong with us having lunch, Dare. He can’t hold a mistake I made before I knew him against me. I would never have let anything happen with you at the party.” Ouch. I must flinch outwardly, because he winces. “I’m sorry…”
“You have nothing to apologize for, Harlan. You were right to stop me,” I assure him. We pick at our lunches, but my appetite has disappeared. “You seem well,” I observe between bites. He reaches over to my plate to steal some fries. I wonder if he realizes that I ordered the sweet potato fries because I know they’re his favorite. The only thing missing is the maple syrup to dip them in.
“I am. I’ve been talking to a therapist, and being back here has helped. I found my own flat, so I have another move ahead of me, but then I’m done because I’m so sick of packing shit,” he complains. I smile because I know how much shit Harlan has to pack. This boy’s wardrobe is truly unbelievable. Between all of his Lust & Lace pieces and his regular wardrobe, our closets were bursting at the seams. He used the smaller of the two spare rooms as storage for the overflow. My closet space feels endless with his clothes gone.
“I know I told you this in San Francisco, but I’m so proud of you. Things haven’t been easy, but you always find a way to shine,” my voice cracks. “I know I have no business asking this of you, but I was hoping we could be friends, or at least work toward that. I think we’ve both done a lot of healing since last year, and I miss you. I know we can’t be what we were before, but maybe we can build something new.”
I struggle to look at him after placing my bleeding, broken heart on the table for him to dissect. It’s been a year of vicious cycles—missing him, hating him, hating myself, wanting to call him, wanting him to call me—but always,alwaysloving him. I miss our easy friendship. We may have been in love, but Harlan was very much my best friend. If he tells me no right now, this has to be it for me. I’ve tried so hard in so many ways to let him go. If he walks away from this, it’ll crush that infinitesimal glimmer of hope that ignites whenever we are in the same space.
The silence seems to carry on for endless minutes—maybe even hours—before I risk looking at him. His eyes are wet with unshed tears, and it hits me, not for the first time, that we have both been on a never-ending rollercoaster of emotions for the last year. There has been so much pain and hurt, but it finally feels like we can have a new beginning.
“Like, starting fresh?” he asks, his voice so tentative that I hold my breath and nod. This is what he asked of me before he left. I wasn’t able to give it to him then, but having him in front of me, I know that I can be that for him now. “What does that look like for us?” Harlan’s hesitance makes sense, but I don’t know what this new normal would look like for us. Just over a year ago, I couldn’t imagine a life where he wasn’t mine. We’re moving into uncharted territory, but I’m ready to do that with him.
“It can look however we want it to look, Lan. It can look like this. Lunch when you’re working. Running in the park with Craig. We make the rules. Whatever feels right,” I tell him. A tear falls down his beautiful cheek. I wish I could wipe it from his face.
“I’ve never wanted anything more,” he whispers hoarsely, and with those five words, some of the hurt from the last year evaporates. He smiles, a warm, beautiful thing that shines light into the cracks of everything we broke.
With the heaviness out of the way, we move on to lighter topics, like how Craig is adjusting to the house, and my healing hand. He tells me about his newest campaign at work. The way his smile meets his eyes is more beautiful than anything I can ever remember. He asks about my family and promises to check in with my sister, who has missed him terribly. She’ll most assuredly read him the riot act first. Antonella did not take it well when Harlan didn’t contact her.
Jordan brings the bill and a treat for Craig when we’re finished eating, and I hand over my credit card before Harlan can extract his wallet from his pocket. The pout he tosses in my direction warms my chest. When Jordan returns with the receipt, he shyly asks for a picture, which Harlan is more than happy to take.
All too soon, lunch is over, and we have to say goodbye. I expect it to feel uncomfortable, but he wraps his arms around me and kisses my cheek before making a fuss over the puppy one more time. “We’ll talk soon, Dare. Thank you for lunch,” he says before he turns to walk away. At least this time, I know there’s a promise to see him again, and that brings me a measure of joy I haven’t felt in months.
Lunch with Daríoyesterday was entirely unexpected. It felt familiar and comfortable, as though the last year hadn’t happened. I expected the apology, but I didn’t expect the offer of friendship. He was adamant when things ended that he couldn’t speak to me. I struggled with that for months, but the space between us, both physically and emotionally, was necessary for healing. I am confident enough in my feelings right now that I can emotionally handle being in the same space as him. I wish I felt as confident in whatever is going on with Oliver. Guilt eats at me because he sounded…frustrated? Sad? I can’t pinpoint it, but I have carried a sense of unease since we hung up.
It doesn’t help that he didn’t call me last night, or that all of my texts have gone unanswered. I tie my running shoes and pull on a hoodie before stepping into the crisp autumn air. The sun is just starting to rise, bathing the orange, red, and yellow leaves in golden light, and I inhale deeply, savoring the distinct scent of decaying leaves. After stretching outside of the building, I start off at a slow jog, the smack of my shoes on the pavement the onlynoise, save for the birds chirping in the distance. Immersing myself in my “Will Run for Tacos” playlist, I increase my pace.
An hour later, I’m sweating, but feeling awake and energized for the day ahead. When I’m a block away from Penny’s building, I slow to a jog, waiting for my heart rate to slow down. Despite the cold air, my hoodie is soaked. I tug it over my head after removing my earbuds, leaving me in my neon green “slutty” running shorts, as Pen has so kindly dubbed them. My arse looks good, though, so whatever. I notice someone sitting on the steps as I approach, and when I get closer, I realize it’s Oliver. My pulse spikes at his presence, and I’m prepared to fly into his arms.
His face is pinched, causing me to stop abruptly. He’s dressed casually in black joggers and a hoodie, with his hands in his jumper pocket. His whole demeanor is off, so I offer a tentative smile. “Oli, I didn’t know you were coming to New York.” He looks me in the eye for the first time, and my concern elevates further. He’s got dark circles under his eyes, and they’re red-rimmed, like he’s been crying. “Is everything ok?” I can feel the erratic beat of my heart in my chest.
He finally draws me into a hug, but it feels anything but affectionate. “Hey, Harlan. I just got in a bit ago. Can we go in to talk?” I nod mutely, leading him into the building, wishing that I was already in my new flat. Inside, I shift awkwardly, not sure if we should go to my room or stay in the sitting room. “Let’s go to your room.” My skin is flushed as my nerves fray further. Inhaling deeply, I lead him to my bedroom, feeling exposed in only my shorts. Judging by the closed door across the hall, I’m assuming Penelope is still asleep.
I move to one of my suitcases, pulling out a clean T-shirt. The idea of dressing in clean clothes when I’m covered in sweat is not ideal, but I can’t worry about an extra bit of washing as every worst-case scenario plays out in my head. “You’re making menervous,” I tell Oliver, as I start to toy with the hem of my shorts. I watch him sit on the edge of my bed, and he pats the spot next to him. Sitting down hesitantly, I brace myself for whatever he has to say.
“I’m sorry, I hate worrying you. I just felt like this is a conversation we should have in person,” he says, taking my hands in his. Mine are clammy, but he doesn’t mention it. “Meeting you has been one of the best things that has ever happened to me, Harlan. Even when you were still drowning in hurt and grief, you lit up every room you entered,” Oliver’s voice cracks. “I told myself that if I just allowed you time, gave you the space you needed, you’d choose me. That I would be enough for you.”
