The room goes quiet, and I know that was the end of it. He lost his mind, went postal on her, and hung up. I wait for Harper to come back into the room, staring into the bottom of my Negroni glass.
“Well,” she says when she gets back to the bar. She reaches for one of the drinks, but her face tells me she can’t stomach it right now. “Go ahead and say it.”
“Say what?” I ask quietly, still staring at the glass. If it isn’t obvious, I feel like shit.
“You were right. Daniel is…” her voice cracks. “An asshole.”
“If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t want to be right. Not about him, anyway,” I tell her.
Harper lets out a small, smile-less laugh and reaches for the Malibu Orchid. “No. It doesn’t make me feel any better. I don’t know if anything could make me feel better.” She takes a sip, and her emerald eyes glisten like sea glass.
This girl is a tough cookie, and it’s tearing me apart.
“What did he say?” I ask.
Harper waits a moment, emotions flushing her face, but she’s stubborn enough not to let the tears fall. Then she clicks her tongue and stirs the cocktail in front of her with the slender black straw. “He’s pissed, obviously. He said we made him look like a fool.”
“There was no one there to see it,” I say, though I don’t suppose that’s helpful.
“No, but his friends are asking him about it. Mostly asking how the wedding night went. He told them…” she pauses to swallow. “He told them he left me at the altar. He didn’t think it was fair to admit what really happened.”
“Of course he didn’t,” I mutter, reaching for one of the other drinks.
“He also said it’s over between us,” she adds and my eyes flash up to her. A wave of relief and another wave of overwhelming empathy crash over me at the same time.
“I’m sorry to hear that.” It’s a lie. I’m not sorry; she deserves better. I am sorry that she’s hurting. That is something I never wanted to see.
“You know what the worst part is?” she opens up. “He avoided my calls. I was never even given a chance to tell my side of the story. It was like he didn’t care what I had to say about the whole situation.”
Fuck. I thought I felt low, but this is bottom of the gutter low.
“Maybe it’s for the best,” she adds.
“How do you figure?” I ask, turning the glass on the table.
Harper gets up and rounds the bar to make another drink. This one is rum heavy with just a splash of maraschino juice and a handful of cherries.
“Imagine being married to someone who never wants to hear your side of the story. I almost question whether he wanted to be married to me or if he just wanted to have me.”
Jesus.
Harper takes a sip of the drink, grimaces, and pops a cherry in her mouth.
“Some men are like that,” I say. I should tell her the truth. Drop the bomb while things are already on fire and get it over with. But for some reason, I just can’t. I can’t bring myself to make it worse.
“You know, I can’t help but wonder…” she says, then bites her lip and shakes her head. “I don’t know.”
“What?” I press.
Harper waits a beat. “I wonder if he’s been cheating on me.”
I swallow hard.
Now’s the time. Say it. Admit it.
“What makes you think that?” I ask.
“I don’t know. It’s just the way he acts with other women. At first, I thought it was just his personality. He has to be personable because of his job, you know? But the way he acts with some of the other girls at the restaurant, I wonder if there is more to it than that.”
