Page 54 of Tanner

“I should go.” I grab my purse and jacket before sliding against him, motioning for him to let me out of the booth.

“Why?” he asks, exasperated. “Just look at me.”

His hands grip my arms, as he’s willing me to meet his eyes. My focus is down.

“Look at me, Harper!”

I give in. I stop fighting and stare into his intense blues.

“What do you see?” he asks. “When you look at me, what do you see?”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“You didn’t think I was young when you met me. You didn’t think of me as younger when I kissed you the first time. It took your breath away, and I know it because it took mine away, too.”

“It has nothing to do with that.” I try to move, but he slides his hands down to mine and grips them. “You didn’t think I was a child when we scoured the city and drank and danced and laughed.”

My shoulders fall. “Tanner—”

“I’m a man, Harper. A man who knows every curve of your body because I painted them, caressed them. A man who sat in a library and fell for a woman who feels more than every person in this entire city combined. A man who has known loss and pain and knows like hell when he sees the woman he wants to be with.”

My breaths are shaky. My eyes widen as I hold back … I don’t even know what it is I’m holding back.

“I’m sorry, Tanner. I need a moment to think. That’s all.” I push against him.

His head falls as he scoots over and slides out of the booth, stepping back so as not to touch me.

I rise from the booth. “I think I should go.”

“You like doing that, don’t you? Leaving.”

I gasp. Millions of things run through my mind, but I can’t for the life of me think of what to say in return. We stare in a stand-off for a few seconds before he slides his hands in his pockets and looks away.

I start to leave but stop myself. “You know, it doesn’t matter anyway. You’re moving back to San Francisco.”

“Nice excuse.”

“Thanks for the memories.”

“Yeah, you’ve already thanked me—a couple of times actually.”

He sits down in a huff, and I don’t know if I should be offended or absolutely heartbroken by his statement. I’m a little bit of both.

No matter how upset I am over walking away from Tanner, I can’t leave Willa here, alone. I start my search on the dance floor where I saw them last, but they’re nowhere to be found.

Heading toward the back of the club, I search for Willa among the young partygoers. I get a few looks and even a few cackles from some guys asking if—you guessed it—I’m an elementary school teacher. Nice to know I at least play the role correctly even if it’s in a place I don’t want to be recognized.

Getting more frustrated by the minute, I head toward the restroom, praying she’s in a long line and that’s why I can’t find her. A couple making out against a dark wall catches my eye, and when I see a female leg wrap around the waist of a guy, I notice the shoes that Willa borrowed from April before we left for the night.

With nothing but aggravation at the situation, at my age, and at myself for walking away from Tanner, I step up to them, tapping Willa on the shoulder and saying, “We need to leave. Well, I’m leaving. You can stay if you’d like. I just wanted to let you know that I have to go.”

Ryan pulls back, shocked at first to be interrupted so rudely and even more shocked when he sees me standing here.

“Is everything okay?” Willa asks.

“I’m not feeling well,” I say.

Ryan wraps his arm around her waist and brings her into him, speaking to me. “You can go. I’ll take good care of her.”