“Well, you can’t copy me,” I point out, squeezing his thigh. “You’ll have to say something else.”
“I’m thankful for hot athletes,” Harper says, chin in the air.
My parents laugh at us both and dig into their food. I use their distraction to kiss Harper’s cheek since I know he hates public displays of affection. Harper ever so slightly leans into the kiss, a relieved sigh falling from his lips. Perfect.
We eat dinner in relative silence. The pie is what makes Harper the most excited. My mother bakes the most amazing dark chocolate pecan pie. Harper must agree because he inhales it in only a handful of bites, staring forlornly down at his empty plate once it’s gone.
“I’ll send some home with you,” Mom says with a hearty chuckle.
Harper’s grin could power an entire city. “Thank you! It’s the best dessert I’ve ever had.”
“I can give you the recipe if you want?” Mom asks, not meaning anything by it.
Harper’s face falls just a little, but he pastes that carefully practiced smile on his lips. “I’d love that, thank you.”
By the time we’re standing at the door saying goodbyes, Harper is visibly tired, and I know it’s time to get him back home. Mom whispers something in Harper’s ear as they hug. Harper’s eyes quickly flick to me, then back to her. He nods once, and my mother’s grin is ecstatic.
“Remember what I said about the Falcons,” Dad says as he slaps my back hard.
“I’ll thinkonlygood thoughts. I promise.”
Back in the safety of the car once my parents have disappeared back into the house, I tug Harper towards me to kiss him senseless. Our tongues twist together as Harper meets me beat for beat. His fingers curl hard into the fabric of my shirt, tugging me closer as if he’s momentarily forgotten we’re parked in my car in front of my parents' house.
“Shhhh,” I say against the warm skin of his cheek. “It’s alright.”
Harper whimpers once, then seemingly gathers himself, his fingers slowly falling from my shirt. He clears his throat awkwardly as he pulls away from me. I watch him settle back in his seat, fastening his seat belt with unsteady hands.
Once back home, Honey waits for us at the front door, little barks of joy escaping her as she wiggles around for attention. Usually, I’d take care of her, but Harper pats my cheek and walks her to the back door. I watch them play in the backyard through the French doors. After a while, Harper dips down into a lowcrouch and buries his face in Honey’s fur as she sweetly licks his neck.
The bond between them is deep. Not only because Honey is Harper’s savior in a way but also that deep, unshakable bond between a dog and their best friend. My mind wanders to a future I wish for so deeply with Harper. A future with children, more dogs, and a gentle life full of making Harper smile. He’d be a wonderful father, kind, patient, and easily able to make our children laugh. It’s a future I can so readily imagine if only Harper will stop fighting me every step of the damn way.
Like we talked about the other day, dreams change. A decade ago my dream had been superstardom, my name known around the country. But in one moment, that’d been ripped from me. I’ve spent the last decade trying to rebuild my dream, the future that I want for myself. All it took was Harper for me to realize what I wanted. I just want a soft life full of laughter, and I know that’s what I’ll get with Harper.
13
HARPER
Like I’ve always said, when things are too good, they always promptly go to shit. Thanksgiving was amazing. Jackson’s parents are kind and sweet, just like him. Of course, my parents were less than thrilled that I went on a week-long holiday, which made them miss their annual chance to grill me during a turkey dinner.
Hence why my mother now stands in my living room in the early morning of Wednesday. Dressed in a pencil skirt, flowy blouse, and heels, she’s the picture of a successful businesswoman. Even the pinched line of her mouth radiatesI’ve got shit to do,and I’m not even remotely on her list.
“I just don’t get why you didn’t want to tell us,” she complains, arms crossing over her chest.
“Maybe I wanted something for myself for once.”
The microwave beeps to alert me that the water for my tea is done. I quietly fill a mug with the water and plop the peppermint tea bag into it so that it can steep as I argue with my mother. She looks on, unamused with my avoidance tactics after all these years.
“Please let me take you to your scan at the end of the week. We can…” Mother trails off, looking awkward for a moment, eyes avoiding mine. “I can take you out to lunch after.”
“You hate having to explain Honey,” I point out because it’s true.
Her fingers tangle together as she lets out a little sigh. “I will get over it. Also, your father would really like to meet your boyfriend as well. Can’t we all get together for dinner soon?”
“You’ll have time for that sort of thing?”
Mother groans and tosses up her hands. “Harper, we’ll make time. We’re not as evil as you think. We do love you; you’re our son.”
“I’m your adopted son.”
