Birthdays, Christmases, our graduation, our first holiday together, their anniversary, group photos of his co-workers, hisfamily dinners, and all his other achievements. I was dotted throughout his life, and I went even deeper into it last night.
I wanted to sink into it, into him.
I could feel my temper rising. It was the same kind of frustration that got me whenever I saw rich snobs looking down on clients because they grew up in a fucking bungalow rather than a thirty-room mansion. It was the pissed off state that got me when people didn't realise how good their life was and what a fucking blessing they had.
Looking back at her blunt email, something inside me snapped.
I shoved the phone in my pocket, pausing, trying to think of a plausible reply I could give to her that would somehow work. Because if I kept on texting him, he wouldn’t think his fiancée had gone AWOL.
And when Harry found out, I could brush it off and tell him I enjoyed fucking around with him, that it was just fun.
Yup, no problem with that plan. Absolutely solid, and in no way fucked up on every possible level.
I should have been listening out for his bloody toothbrush instead of getting absorbed in my own unfounded daydreams.
Just as I lifted my fingers to the keys, his footsteps sounded behind me.
“Hey,” Harry called. I whipped my head around as he breezed into the room, that huge grin his new permanent feature, his eyes dropping to my hands. “Anything interesting?” he asked as he headed for the kitchen again.
I was the one who put that smile on his face. I pushed him and made him come last night. It was always me who was there for him, who he could turn to, who he had relied on the past decade because I actually gave a shit about him.
Unlike Molly.
With a shot of panic, I quickly typed a reply.
Sure. I’ll be busy anyway, and I want some space too. Enjoy the wedding.
“Just checking the news, seeing how my latest case is going,” I called back to him as I swallowed down my guilt.
Sending off the reply, I deleted the email and my response, going to the trash to get rid of any trace of it. I blew out a heavy breath as I closed the laptop, leaning back on the sofa just as he came back into the living room.
I looked at him grinning down at me, and not a single clue that I kind of already committed to the idea of using him. I’d messed with so many people in my life, but Harry was supposed to be off-limits.
But it was different from Sally’s crap. I was doing it for a good reason: to keep Harry’s smile, to make him happy.
“Here.” I picked up the laptop and handed it to him as he rounded the sofa, apron gone, coffee in hand, ready to go. “You don’t want to be forgetting this. Again,” I said, knowing howeasily he left things, pretending there wasn’t a maelstrom of triumph and guilt working its way through me.
“Thanks,” he said softly as he took it, shaking my heart at the sight of his gentleness. “Though, honestly, with the number of screens I have to deal with at work, I probably don’t need it.”
“Do you want me to bring you anything later? I’ll be off at six.”
“No, don’t worry about it,” he said as he pushed the laptop into his briefcase. "I plan to leave the office at five.” He nodded with that determined look on his face.
I gave him my own look, my brows rising. We both knew exactly what was going to happen.
“So, I’ll be over at six then?” I asked.
Harry bit his lip, giving me the cutest fucking smile in the world as he clicked his briefcase closed and adjusted his jacket.
“Yeah, alright. Six it is.” He chuckled as he scanned the room, giving everything a final check.
His eyes flicked to the clock behind me. “I’ve got to go, just let yourself out, okay?” Harry said, waving behind him as the door clicked, and I was alone again.
I should have just waited until he left so I could actually think about what I was going to do. But the email had been sent, deleted, and the laptop was currently in Harry’s hand, so it was done.
I didn’t have to go through with it at all. I could just hide the phone away, wait it out, pretend I knew absolutely nothing and take the secret to my grave.
I could tell myself that as much as I wanted, but I knew it was a lie. I wouldn’t have sent that email if that’s what I actually wanted.
