by Gina Azzi
“Ah, I can help you out with that.” Moe moves to his desk and reaches into a box to pull out a pair of women’s shorts and a tank top. “What size do you wear?”
“Small or medium.”
“Here you go.” He passes her some clothes.
“Awesome! Thank you, Moe.” Harlow’s gaze swings to mine.
I grin at her excitement. She’s exudes pure joy while I’m always surly. But damn if her sunshine doesn’t warm the coldest parts of my heart. “Do it,” I encourage her.
“You can change in the women’s locker room. You got a gym bag with you?” Moe asks me.
“In the truck.”
“Want to spar?”
I snort and raise an eyebrow. “And beat your ass?”
“You can try, bro. I’m still young,” Moe retorts.
Harlow chuckles at our exchange. “I’m going to go change. Thanks, Moe. This was really helpful.” She gestures toward the table where I’m still the only one sitting.
“No, Harlow. Thank you. You have no idea how much I appreciate your interest and support. Connor and I would have no idea what to do next if you weren’t guiding us.”
“It’s my pleasure.” She shakes Moe’s hand. “I’ll see you out there?”
I nod.
“Salma is at the front desk. She’ll show you where the class is and where you can leave your stuff,” Moe adds.
“I’ll meet you after, babe.” I palm the back of her thigh. Jesus, any excuse to touch her. To demonstrate how grateful I am that she’s here, helping me out with this. After half a year of hell, turns out Pop was right. I do need a new chapter, to dive into something bigger than myself, to find a purpose. Soul Sanctuary seemed to drop into my lap when I needed it most. With Harlow’s support, it all seems to be clicking into place.
“Okay.” She slides out of my hold as she heads toward the women’s locker room.
When Harlow’s out of the office, Moe lifts an eyebrow. “So that’s her?”
“That’s her.”
“You let her go?”
“It was more complicated than that.”
Moe whistles. “No way. Dude, you’re screwed.”
I rub the heels of my palms into my eyes, not bothering to refute Moe’s observation. He’s right – I am screwed.
“I would have followed her to L.A.,” he continues.
I groan, leaning back in my chair.
“How’s it going now that she’s back?”
“It’s going,” I say, not adding that it’s going too damn good to be true. That date, her touch, everything is so…effortless. It has me on edge. You can’t go this long barely speaking to someone and miraculously be friends, then lovers. Can you?
Moe smirks. “You don’t want to talk, it’s cool.”
I glare at him.
Moe’s smirk grows. “Let’s spar. I’m gonna go easy on you.”
I chuckle, leaning back in my chair.
“What? You clearly have a lot of unresolved feelings on the issue.”
“What issue?” I bite out, not wanting to admit that he’s right.
Moe holds my eye, quirking an eyebrow.
I sigh. “When I’m with her, everything is amazing. And when I’m not, I’m worrying that I’m messing up the amazing.” I hate myself for sounding like a goddamn pussy. “My head is all over the damn place when it comes to Low.”
“Clear it.” He clasps my shoulder, pushing me toward the parking lot. “Grab your shit and suit up.”
Hustling out to the car, I grab my gym bag and beeline for the locker room. Once there, I drop my bag on a bench. I was planning to get a quick workout in, but Moe’s option is more appealing. It will give me the chance to work out all the complicated feelings bubbling inside now that Harlow is back in my life. For so long, I didn’t dare hope for a second chance, knowing I’d never get one.
But now that she’s here and things between us are so…right, I’m scared as hell that I’m going to fuck it all up again. I’ll lose her for good and I won’t have one damn ray of sunshine in my life to keep me from slipping into my dark thoughts and even darker moods.
I can’t risk that. I need to learn how to be the man that Harlow needs me to be. Not the hotheaded fighter who claims what he wants with his fists, consequences be damned, but the man who can talk about things like the future and feelings. I need to learn how to communicate with her, how to trust that she’s being honest with me, how to grow together.
But fuck if that isn’t hard when my default mode is to keep to myself. Where she’s outgoing and engaging, I’m introverted. I retreat into myself when the outside world becomes overwhelming. How can two people, amidst a slew of life-changing events, make it work if they can’t talk about their fears?
I still don’t want to tell her how much it scares me that I’ll do something to push her away and be forced to watch as L.A. swallows her up, turning her back into California Barbie.
I hang my bag up in a locker and crack my neck. A hint of a smile shadows my lips. It’s been too long since I’ve properly climbed into a ring.
The night I lost to O’Brien, my confidence shattered. I’ve done a shit job building it back up, too busy dealing with the emotional tidal wave of Pop’s diagnosis and the financial fallout that is piling up like stones in my stomach.
The thought of Harlow leaving, fleeing back to the world she knows in L.A., heightens my anxiety and rocks the shaky ground my life is currently built on.
If I don’t get my own shit together, how will I prove to Harlow that she’s right where she’s meant to be, in Chicago, with me?
“Hi Pop.” I stride into Pop’s room.
He’s sitting in his recliner, a TV remote control on his lap even though the television isn’t on. At the sound of my voice, he turns his head. His eyes, as light as mine are dark, swing to meet mine.
They cloud over and the dip between his brows deepens. “Hi,” he says slowly, like he doesn’t know who I am even though part of him knows he should.
My stomach twists at the perplexed look on his face even as my heart breaks at the constant losses he’s forced to face. Sometimes, I think it’s better when he has no recollection of his life before the disease ripped it away from him. In moments like right now, when I can tell that he doesn’t recognize me but understands something is amiss, his eyes widen with a flare of panic and distress coats his features.
I wonder what it’s like, knowing there are all these things you don’t know but should. Is it like a phantom pain like people get after losing a limb? Or is it a mental anguish you don’t know how to share?
I work a swallow. “I’m Connor. I came to visit with you for a bit.”
He nods, some of the fear receding from his eyes. “You can take a seat,” he offers, polite rather than friendly. His hand rises slowly from the armrest of the recliner and he extends a finger toward the kitchen table, shuddering as if the small movement cost him.
I turn away, knowing it probably did. His doctor warned that movement would become harder for him as his limbs grow stiffer.
“Thanks.” I collapse into one of the chairs at his tiny, round kitchen table.
“Do I know you?” he asks after a few beats of staring at me.
“Yes.” I nod. “You’ve known me for a very long time.”
He nods, dismissing the information, like now that I’ve confirmed our connection, it doesn’t matter. “Are you married?”
“No, sir.”
“Kids?”
“Nope.”
“Hm,” he clucks in the back of his throat, shifting his weight. “I had a wife once.”
“Really?” I ask, leaning forward in my chair. I search his expression for signs of pain, for the hurt and betrayal that my mother inflicted when she left him, but any of the negative emotions I associate with my mom are absent.
Instead, a smile stretches across his mouth and he beams at me.
“Oh yes. A beautiful woman, my Linda. Dark eyes, dark hair, and a smile that could dazzle the damn d
evil.” He laughs, his hand lifting jerkily, all five of his fingers outstretched before dropping back onto the armrest.
I grin back even though my throat tightens and my stomach suddenly feels hallow and too slick.
Pop’s quiet for a long stretch of time. I open my mouth to ask a question about his Linda, but before I can, his smile fades and a grimace appears.
I’m halfway out of my chair when he growls, “She dazzled the devil.”
I clear my throat. “Are you hungry?”
“He took her from me.” His eyes latch onto mine, so blue they glow. “Snatched her away.” He shakes his head, the pain I was waiting for exploding in his features. “I gave her my goddamn soul, everything I had I gave to her. Everything she wanted I did.” He frowns and blinks. “Do you have a wife?”
“No, sir.” I sigh, my body so tense, my muscles ache.
“You’re better off,” Pop advises, not knowing how much his words rattle me.
They shouldn’t. I know he doesn’t realize what he’s saying, the implications of his words. He doesn’t even know who I am in this moment, or the relationship I’m developing with Harlow. But his words, coupled with his expression, cause dread to expand in my stomach until it’s crashing over me like a monsoon.
“You’ll give her the world and she’ll steal all the light. All that’s left is the goddamn dark,” he mumbles, nodding along with his words.
“Are you hungry?” I ask again.
Pop looks up, staring at me with confusion. “Do I know you?”
I blink back the tears that collect in the corners of my eyes and say, “I’m Connor. I came to visit with you for a bit.”
17
Harlow
“Thank you so much, Ria. That sounds great.” I twist my nose ring as I jot down the information Ria rattles off. “Eli will be there.”
When I hang up the phone, I glance over Eli’s calendar. His events and interviews are stacking up. Everyone wants a piece of him before the premiere. I know that if the premiere is a success, there will be even more calls to field afterwards. Leaning back on my couch, I stack my feet on the coffee table and call Eli’s publicist, Helen.
“Hi Harlow,” she answers warmly.
“Hey! How are you?”
“Pretty good. Let me guess, Eli’s schedule is filling up?”
“Yes,” I laugh. “I don’t know why everyone is connecting with me. I keep telling them to contact you directly.”
She chuckles. “Because they know you’re too kind to blow them off. Plus, you’ve got that Southern charm going for you.”
Rolling my eyes, I pick up the notebook with my notes. “Eli’s had two more interview requests.” I give her the information. “I’m scheduling his tailor for the morning after he lands in L.A. Do you want to discuss his look for the premiere?”
“Absolutely. I’m shooting you the talking points for his interview with John Stein from Timeless Corner magazine now.”
“Great. They’re meeting at the Four Seasons on Friday.”
“Yes, perfect,” Helen agrees. “Okay, for the premiere, I want to tone it down a little. Something a little trendier and edgier than the clean, classic look that Eli usually wears.”
“Okay,” I say, scribbling more notes.
“He definitely needs a jacket and suit pants, but more trendy than timeless. Since Eli’s attending this premiere as co-director instead of an actor, I want his look to stand out too.”
“No black on black?”
“No. I definitely want him to have a pop of color somewhere.”
“Statement with his shoes?”
“Exactly! It’s like you’re reading my mind.”
I chuckle. “How about I pull some things together and send you some photos and we can talk about them?”
“That’s great. Consult with his stylist as well. We can have some pieces pulled by the end of the week.”
“Sounds good. And for his meeting with Stein, any specific look?”
“No, he can pick out his own clothes that day.”
We both laugh.
“Okay Helen, I’ll touch base with you later this week.” Once I click off, I send some emails to Eli before contacting his stylist, Sophia.
This is the fun part of my job. Sure, on the day-to-day, it’s a lot of organizing and coordinating. But sometimes I offer input on looks and styles, on talking points and interview engagement, and for a few seconds, I pretend I’m a publicist instead of a glorified P.A. with a “manager” title.
Besides, talking with Helen and Sophia always invigorates me by offering glimpses of what the future holds if I work hard enough, if I want it badly enough.
By the time I hang up with Sophia, it’s nearing dinnertime. I blow out a sigh, stand from the couch, and walk into the kitchen. Dipping into the refrigerator turns out to be disappointing as I have nothing to eat and I suck at cooking.
I pour a glass of water and consider messaging Zoe since I know she’ll invite me over for dinner, but I don’t want to take advantage of her and Eli’s hospitality. Instead, I pick up my phone and text Connor.
Me: Hey! Dinner tonight?
Connor: Hi, sorry, I can’t. Visiting Pop.
Me: Want to hang after?
Connor: Rain check? I have an early morning.
Me: Sure, no worries. See you tomorrow?
Connor: Tomorrow is nuts. See you at Eli’s BBQ Saturday?
Disappointment settles in my stomach at his brush-off. I haven’t seen Connor for two days and although I know we’re both busy with work, I can’t help but worry if things are good between us. Coming off a bad breakup where I was blindsided by Bryce’s cheating has me on edge in the relationship department.
I can’t place what happened with Bryce on Connor. The fastest way to ruin a budding relationship? Needing constant reassurance and acting like a stage-five clinger.
I stare at the door to my refrigerator. My stomach grumbles and I sigh. I really need to make new friends. But in the meantime…
I pick my phone back up and message Evan, Eli’s brother. We’ve known each other for years and haven’t had the chance to properly catch up since I’ve moved to Chicago.
Me: Hey Evan. I know this is super short notice but any chance you want to grab a bite for dinner?
He replies moments later and relief skates through me that I won’t have to eat another meal alone like I have for the past two nights.
Evan: Hi Low! Ollie and I are having a steak dinner in about thirty minutes. Can you make it here by then?
I grin at his invitation.
Me: I’ll bring the wine.
Evan: See you soon.
Eager to get out of my apartment after working all day, I quickly change and run a comb through my hair. Grabbing a bottle of wine, pretty much the only thing I’ve stocked up on, I swipe my purse off the table and lock the door behind me.
Evan doesn’t live near an L stop, so I grab an Uber to his house. The summer breeze blows through the back windows of my Uber ride as the bustle of Chicago gives way to quieter streets and larger homes. Pulling up to Evan’s massive, contemporary home, the driver lets out a low whistle and I laugh. “He’s a lawyer.”
Before I even make it up the steps to the front door, it swings wide open and Ollie appears, waving. “Hi Harlow!”
“Hey man!” I grin at him, bending down to kiss the top of his head. Slugging an arm around his shoulder, I ask, “How are you?”
“Good.”
“Having a fun summer?”
He nods enthusiastically. “My soccer team is playing in a big tournament this weekend.”
“That’s good. What position do you play again?”
Ollie leads me into the house. “Forward.”
“Hey, that was my position too.” I kick off my sandals and drop my purse on the bench inside the foyer.
“You played soccer?” Ollie asks with wide eyes.
“Sure did.”
Ollie rattles off a bunch of questions as we move t
oward the back deck.
“Hey Low.” Evan waves with a pair of tongs, manning the grill, as Ollie and I step outside.
“Hey!” I hold up the bottle of wine.
“Bad day?” He smirks.
I shrug. Today isn’t a bad day…it’s an off day. I have no idea what to make of it other than I don’t want to wallow through it alone.
“Corkscrew and wine glasses are in the bar.” He gestures toward the house and I lope back inside to grab them.
When I return with two glasses of vino, Ollie is kicking a soccer ball around the yard, running drills.
“He’s really good,” I comment, taking a sip of my wine as I watch Ollie dribble through cones.
“He’s crazy committed. A hell of a lot more than I was at his age,” Evan explains, taking the steaks off the grill.
The deck is the perfect backyard oasis. A large table with chairs sits on a carpet in the center of the deck, shaded by a large umbrella. Firefly lights wrap around the entire deck, casting a soft glow as dusk settles. The space overlooks an expansive, manicured lawn with a jungle gym and soccer goal for Ollie.
“You have the perfect set up back here.” I take another sip of my wine. The bold flavor explodes in my mouth and I settle into my chair.
Evan nods slowly, squinting out over the yard. “Ollie, time to eat.”
“Five minutes, Dad!” Ollie hollers back, restarting his drill.
Evan sighs, placing a plate down in front of me and sliding into the seat across from me.
“This looks amazing.” I pick up my fork, glancing at the steak, double baked potato, and asparagus.
“Bon appetit.” Evan lifts his wine glass and I clink mine against his. “Cheers.”
“Cheers.” I cut into my steak. “How’ve you been? I’ve barely seen you since I moved here.”
He sighs again, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Good. Busy. Work’s been insane.”
“Isn’t it always?”
He nods, one side of his mouth tipping up but the smile is for show, it doesn’t reach his eyes at all. As one of Chicago’s top criminal defense lawyers, Evan has been busy since I met him nearly six years ago. He’s always on his grind, hustling to balance the pressures of work with the responsibilities of being a full-time, single dad.