“See, this is where your whole do-not-approach act comes in handy.” She snickers, and I don’t take offense.
“Please tell me you didn’t date that moron?”
“Guilty.” Harriet dips her chin. “In my defense, he was sweet at first and also works in the music industry. I’m ashamed to say I saw an in, which is a lesson learned.”
“What do you mean?” I don’t move my chair away, and neither does she, leaving a couple of inches between our hands.
A tired sigh blows past her lips. “Peter is a well-known publisher in the city, and we met at an event, got talking,flirted a little, and he offered to pass one of my recordings to producers in his network. Ten months later, nothing.” Her lips curl in disgust. “I swear, I didn’t date him purely for that reason, and I should’ve seen the signs miles away. He didn’t take me seriously and probably never intended to do anything with my songs. The cherry on top? I caught him cheating on me with the receptionist. It couldn’t be more cliché.”
“He shouldn’t have made promises he can’t keep. After that brief interaction, I see why he’s your ex. He’s a fucking tool.”
“Hmm,” Harriet agrees noncommittally before moving her attention to the tray of drinks. “Um, did you place an order for the entire cafe?”
Heat prickles my neck. “Not quite. I wasn’t sure what you like and didn’t want to buy you something that would make you sick.”
“That is…very sweet, Warren. Thank you. I would’ve settled for water.”
I shake my head while reaching for my coffee. “You shouldn’t settle for anything.”
I take a long sip as she stares at me like I have six heads. She surveys her choices before choosing the berry-red smoothie. We’re silent as we drink, and when I raise my gaze to meet hers, I’m gifted with a beautiful melody, the same one I listened to blindly when trapped in a haunted house. Is it normal to have a favorite sound?
She claps a hand over her mouth as she laughs freely.
“What’s funny?” I scan the room for a clue.
“You.” She gestures around her mouth. “You’ve got a little something here.”
I wipe at my chin, which only makes her giggle harder.
“Here, let me.” Flowers, sweet fruit, and crisp winter air surround me as she leans over and swipes her index fingerabove my top lip. She holds up her hand to show it covered in foam.
I’d be embarrassed if I wasn’t overly aware of our proximity and how her pupils dilate a little. The freckle beside her cupid’s bow taunts me. We stare at one another, the people and surrounding noises fading away as I’m transported back to the Ferris wheel. Harriet’s eyes sparkle as if we’re sitting underneath a starry sky, reminding me how she teased me as she licked the ice cream from her lips.
If we were to kiss now, would it taste like strawberries? Or raspberries? Or something uniquely her?
A plate smashes, snapping us out of the spell.
Fuck.This cannot happen. She can’t be the Harriet from the fair anymore. I’m certainly not the same man. He was a temporary façade. Whatever pull is skewing my senses has to go.
We’re in unfamiliar waters, and my head is barely above the surface as it is. I can’t allow my attraction for Harriet to weight me down, dragging me deep into the abyss. I’ve been there once before, and I won’t survive it a second time.
“I appreciate you speaking up like you did. I’m not one to act the damsel in distress, but I’m way too tired for Peter’s bullshit.” She smiles nervously. “Onto the reason we’re actually here…”
“Right. Of course.” I settle in my chair and nod for her to begin.
It’s clear she has a speech prepared. “Our lives are about to change drastically, and I appreciate I’ve had longer to process it all than you.” She raises her chin. “If this co-parenting thing is going to work, we need to find some common ground. I want to avoid a custody agreement and lawyers. We’re equal partners in this, and I think the first step to a successful arrangement is to become friends.”
I blink, unsure if I heard her correctly. “Friends?”
“Yeah. You know, the people you text in a crisis and share PMS stories with.”
“I’m familiar with the concept,” I reply dryly. “Can’t say I’ve discussed my ovaries with many people.”
“Take this as your official invitation to discuss all your woes with me, awkward boners and all.”
Harriet times the last comment right as I raise my cup to my mouth, and my shocked choking sends coffee spraying across the table like a geyser.
She’s pleased with herself, smirking behind her hand, eyes brimming with mirth. A foreign sensation takes over my body, and my shoulders shake uncontrollably. It surprises Harriet, pausing her laughter before she joins in. Her ability to change the mood so effortlessly, taking an unpleasant encounter and flipping it into a lighthearted moment, is refreshing. I’d forgotten how good it feels to laugh.
