“I'm fine. Just tired.” She pauses. “I was going to tell you last night, but didn’t want to upset you more…but a few clients have canceled their contracts.”
Shock reverberates through me. Harper had warned me about this, but it sounded far-fetched. “What? How many?”
“Two so far. And I'm worried there might be more.”
Guilt crashes over me in waves. Harper has worked so hard to build her company, and now it's falling apart because of me. “I'm so sorry. You don't deserve this.”
“I have to go. My client is here. We'll talk later, okay?”
The line goes dead, and I sit alone in the video room, staring at my phone.
Two hours later, I'm standing behind a podium facing a room full of reporters. The questions start easy. About our playoff chances, about the team's recent performance.
“The Renegades are six points out of a playoff spot with three games remaining,” I say into the microphones. “We're focused on taking it one game at a time and giving our fans something to cheer about.”
Then the inevitable question comes.
“Cole, can you address the photos of you and event planner Harper Hayes that surfaced yesterday?”
I keep my expression neutral. “Harper Hayes is a professional event planner who has done excellent work for our organization. The photo in question was taken at a charity auction where we were discussing work-related matters.”
“Are you saying there's no romantic relationship?”
“I'm saying Harper is a consummate professional who has exceeded all expectations in her work with the Renegades. Any suggestion that she received preferential treatment is baseless.”
But even as I say the words, something feels wrong about denying what we have.
After the press conference, I'm walking to my car when my phone rings. Brett's name flashes on the screen.
“So you were using her all this time?” He says as soon as I answer.
“What? No, that's not?—”
“I just watched your press conference, Cole. Work-related matters? Really? You couldn't even admit you're together?”
“I was trying to protect her reputation.”
“You made her invisible!” Brett's voice cracks. “She's been ignored her whole life, overlooked by everyone, and you just made her feel invisible, too.”
“That's not what I was doing.” I’m hurt that he would think that of me. Were it not for Harper’s company, I would announce it to the whole world that I’m in love with her.
“Isn't it? You get to stand up there and deny your relationship while she loses clients and gets harassed by reporters. You threw her under the bus to save your own ass.”
“Brett, please let me explain.”
The line goes dead.
I drive home in a daze, Brett's words echoing in my head. Did I make Harper invisible? Was I protecting her or protecting myself?
The apartment feels enormous and empty without Harper. I want to call her, but I know she's handling a lot at work. I pace the living room, replaying the press conference in my head, wondering if I handled it wrong.
By seven PM, I can't wait anymore. I call Harper, but it goes straight to voicemail. I try again an hour later. Still nothing.
By ten PM, I'm genuinely worried. Harper always answers her phone, always lets me know where she is. I consider calling Brett, but after our earlier conversation, that's not an option. My other option is Ariel, but I don't have her number.
Why the fuck didn’t I ask Harper for it? Because I never foresaw a time when I couldn’t reach her.
I text her.Where are you? I'm worried.
