Walking a few steps away, I give them space.My fingers trail over old teacups and faded book spines as I glance back every so often.
Her smile stretches wide.His?Relaxed, and at ease.
And then it hits me… Maybe all his edge, all his snapping and silence over the years, wasn’t really about me.Maybe it was grief, coiled up inside him with nowhere to go.Maybe he’s simply been lost.
But today?He’s showing up.He’s trying.
I pick up a glass jar, the lid engraved with a floral pattern that I trace with my thumb.
A familiar voice cuts through the moment.“Didn’t expect to find you here.”
I turn, my heart tumbling.Harrison.
He’s in gym gear, his black T-shirt clinging slightly to his chest.His hair is pushed back messily, like he ran his fingers through the strands.
“Just heading to the gym,” he says, lowering a cardboard box next to other donated boxes.“But dropping off donations first.What about you?”
I pull my sleeves over my hands, suddenly aware of the dust clinging to them.“Clearing out Dad’s place.”
His gaze flicks past me and lands on Dad, who’s still chatting with the lady behind the counter.Harrison’s body tenses.I browse the aisle, running my fingers over a stack of ceramic plates.Harrison trails beside me, hands in his pockets, head tilted like he’s actually interested in a chipped tray.I can’t handle the quietness outside of work, so I break it the only way I know how… By talking.
“You do see it, right?”I whisper, leaning in.“They’re totally flirting.”
He squints, peering around us.“Who?”
“Dad and the woman behind the counter.”
His eyebrows shoot up.“Seriously?”
“Dead serious.”
Shaking his head, he stifles a grin.“Nice.Well, I’ll see myself out so I don’t ruin the moment.”
“Smart move,” I say, giving his shoulder a playful bump before walking away.As I turn, my elbow catches the edge of a ceramic bowl, making it wobble.
Harrison lunges forward to catch it, but overshoots and knocks into a display of coffee mugs instead.The clatter echoes through the shop, and we both freeze as heads turn toward us, except for my dad.
“Are you trying to get your dad to notice us?”
“Calm down.He hasn’t noticed.”
He crouches down to tidy up the scattered mugs, muttering under his breath.“Right.Wouldn’t want to raise suspicion.”
I know he’s right.Dad would lose it if he thought something was happening between us.But hearing Harrison say it out loud, like I’m some kind of liability, stings more than I want to admit.
“Let me finish stacking these, and you take off.I’ll catch you at work tomorrow.”I don’t know why I feel disappointed.Shouldn’t I be happy he’s aware of how this could look to my dad?Then why does it feel like a pit in my stomach?
“No.I can’t leave you to clean up my mess.”
We make quick work of restacking the mugs.Once we’re done, he takes a step toward the door.His hand stays on the frame, like he’s hesitant to leave.But then, almost apologetically, he says, “See you tomorrow?”
“See you then.”I manage a wave, watching him until he disappears around the corner.The shop feels quieter now, and not in a good way.
I busy myself browsing the store.Anything to stop replaying the look on Harrison’s face when he had to leave.
Ten minutes later, Dad meets me near the entrance.“Ready to head back?”he asks.
“Yep.”As we walk, I know I have to tell him.Because if I don’t, and he finds out later, from someone else, or worse, from seeing us together, it’ll look like I was hiding something.And that’ll make everything so much worse.And if he’s in this happy bubble, maybe he won’t care as much.
