by Gina Azzi
“He’s fine, Harlow. Of course you are irreplaceable, but he will find someone to manage his stuff less successfully than you.”
We both laugh.
I grab the handles of both my suitcases. “I can’t believe how much stuff I accumulated in such a short time.”
“Call me when you land.”
“Okay. See you soon, Zo!”
“Good luck Monday!” she calls after me as I step into O’Hare International Airport.
I wave goodbye one last time before heading to check-in. Once I have my boarding pass and make it through security, I buy an iced latte and collapse near the boarding gate.
Taking a sip of my drink, I relax and people watch, letting my mind wander.
It seems ridiculous that just two weeks ago I was sitting in this same chair, at the same gate, waiting to board a flight for my interview. Now, I’m leaving Chicago for good and starting a new chapter in L.A. with my dream job. I chuckle to myself, hardly believing how crazy this summer has been.
A lot of ups and downs, that’s for sure.
Movement flashes in my peripheral vision. I turn just in time to hear, “I knew you would get the job. Congratulations.”
I look up at the shadow looming over me, surprise exploding in my chest.
“What are you doing here?” I glance around the airport, as if expecting TSA agents to tackle Connor at any moment. But no one is paying us any attention.
Clad in ripped jeans and a simple black t-shirt, Connor looks as sexy as ever. But his eyes are tired, his expression defeated.
He shrugs. “You didn’t say good-bye.”
The hurt in his tone scrapes at my heart and I steel it, willing myself not to go back down this road with Connor. We’ve been here too many times. At the end of all the roads, I end up brokenhearted. Alone. Empty.
“I thought we said everything that needed to be said.”
He sits down next to me. “You don’t believe that,” he refutes, tilting his head to the side. He runs his hand through his hair, causing it to stick up at odd angles. He looks delicious, as usual. I want to wrap myself around him and never let go.
I glance at the floor. “I need to believe that.”
“Harlow,” he sighs, lifting my chin until my gaze locks on his. Regret swirls in his irises. “I’m sorry.”
I close my eyes, knowing his words come too little too late. “Why do you keep doing this to me, Connor?” I force my lids back open so I can read his face.
His skin pales, his lips thinning as if he finally understands, sees firsthand, just how much he’s hurt me in the past. Yes, fine, I’ve hurt him too. But Jesus, if we haven’t gotten it right yet, shouldn’t we stop playing this game?
“I don’t deserve you, Low. I never have.”
I turn away.
His hand settles on my arm, gliding down to my wrist and linking with my fingers. “But I see you. And you’re more than enough. It’s time for me to be enough for you. For real. I know I pushed you away. I know I was unfair. I fucking hate myself for hurting you. But I swear, Low, I thought I was doing right by you. My head’s been messed up since Pop…”
I glance at him from the corner of my eye, feeling myself soften as his voice cracks.
“Since Pop died, I haven’t been myself. I know it, you know it. It’s a fucking awful excuse, but it’s the truth. Baby, please, let me prove to you how much I want this to work. How badly I want to support you the way you’ve always supported me.”
“What are you saying?” I ask, my heart galloping.
“I’m saying I want this. You. Us. I want it so badly that I’m not willing to walk away. Not ever again.”
“Why should I believe you?” my voice cracks on the question and Connor winces.
“You don’t believe me, do you?”
I shake my head, a tear spilling onto my cheek. I brush it away with the back of my hand.
Connor inches closer, twisting his body so my tears are hidden from view. “Then let me prove it,” he demands, a thread of steel wrapping around his words.
“Prove what?”
“How much I love you. That my love is enough for you. That I can be the man you deserve.”
My eyes close at the solemnity in his voice, at the desperation behind his words. Can I give him another chance? How many chances are too many?
My throat burns and my body feels ready to burst with the hope, fear, love, and uncertainty coursing through my veins. “How?”
Connor’s breath fans across my face as he presses a kiss to my cheek. “Let me catch you, Harlow. Let me hold us together. I swear to you, I won’t ever let go.”
His eyes are serious, his expression so earnest it unnerves me.
“It won’t be easy,” I warn him.
“Nothing worth it is ever easy.”
My gaze holds his, weighing his words and wondering how much I can trust them.
“Now calling passengers for flight 5301 to Los Angeles,” an airline representative’s voice rings out.
Connor’s dark eyes remain locked on mine. Unblinking, just feeling.
I know, in my heart of hearts, that he sees me.
Around us, passengers stand and stretch, gather their coffee cups and shoulder their carry-ons. A line forms several rows away, and a hush of silence falls over the seats we occupy.
“Please, Low,” Connor tries again.
I stand slowly, picking up my purse. “I start my new job on Monday.”
“I know.” His smile is so radiant, so unexpected, it blinds me. I blink against it. “I’m so proud of you.”
“Connor…”
“Section A of flight 5301 is now boarding,” the airline representative announces.
Connor fidgets, pulling a boarding pass out of his back pocket. “That’s us, Low.”
My mouth drops open. “You bought a ticket?”
He picks up his backpack. “Of course. How else could I get to the gate?”
“Wait, you’re coming to L.A..?”
“Packed in my carry-on.”
“Connor…”
“Harlow.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Then don’t say anything. We have hours to chat in the air.” He flips his boarding pass to me, grinning. “I got the seat next to yours.”
I sigh, shuffling from one foot to the next.
“My pop wrote me a letter,” he says.
“What?”
“He left me a letter.”
I reach out and touch his hand. “Oh, Connor.”
He flips it and holds onto my fingers. “He knew. He knew that you were it for me. I know I fucked up, Harlow. I don’t have any excuses but to own it and tell you the truth. But my pop knew how much I love you. He knew that your love redeems me. Please, Low, please, give me one more chance. I swear to you I won’t fuck it up this time.”
“Sections B and C of flight 5301 are now boarding.”
“I don’t just need your words or your actions, Connor. I need both. And they need to be in sync with each other,” I tell him earnestly, my heart splintering at the determination in his expression.
“I know.”
I roll my eyes, finally nodding and offering him a small smile. Not because I trust everything he said to me. But because I truly see his effort, his desire to try. And I want to believe that this time, he means it for the long haul.
I step toward the line of passengers. “Come on.”
Connor sidles up beside me, reaching out to hold my hand. “I want you to show me all of L.A. Your favorite places to eat, the things you do on a normal day. I’d really like to meet your friends. Oh, and we’re having brunch tomorrow with Jack…”
“Connor.”
He glances at me, his lopsided grin pulling up one side of his mouth. “You make me a better man, Low. All this time, it’s been you. And there’s no way I’m letting us burn out, baby. No fucking way.” He passes our boarding passes to the airline representative and guides me toward the plane.
When we
step onboard, he chats with the flight attendant before gesturing to our seats. “We’re these two,” he says, stowing our carry-ons.
I roll my eyes again, sliding into the window seat.
Connor plops down next to me and takes my hand.
“Don’t make me regret this, Connor Scott.”
“Not a chance in hell, Reid. I got you, baby.”
When I wake the following morning, Connor is seated in the chair next to my bed.
Shirtless, messy hair, and the warmest chocolate eyes I’ve ever seen. I debate pinching myself to see if I’m dreaming.
“You’re really here,” I murmur, wondering if yesterday was some freaky dream.
My new job offer, my whirlwind twenty-four hours in Chicago to pack up my apartment, the airport, Connor’s apology, him being here now, it’s all too much. It’s a sensory overload I’m unprepared to deal with, especially first thing in the morning. Without iced coffee.
“I’m really here,” he confirms, springing off the chair. He drops next to me on the bed and tucks some of my hair behind my ear. “Thank you for letting me come.”
“You didn’t really leave me much of a choice, Scott.”
“That was intentional, Reid.”
I manage a smile but the truth is, I don’t really know how to handle his being here. Why now? What’s changed?
“I know I have a lot to prove to you, Harlow,” Connor says, his fingers continuing to sweep through my hair. “But I swear to you, I’m up for the challenge. In the past, my walking away had nothing to do with you and everything to do with me. Me not thinking I was enough for you. Me not wanting you to sell yourself short. Me not giving you enough credit to know your own heart.”
I quirk an eyebrow. His words warm me from the inside out, but I need more and he knows it.
“Let’s have the L.A. weekend we should have had during the premiere. Let’s lose ourselves in the fun and enjoy being with each other. I promise to be myself.”
The intensity in his gaze speaks to the truth of his words. God, I’m desperate to believe him. To believe in us.
“This is your last chance, Connor.”
“It’s the last one I’ll ever need, Low.”
I pull myself up from under his frame and stand from the bed. “Okay,” I agree reluctantly. Something on my bedside table catches my eye and I pause. “Peonies.”
“I know you like them.”
I breathe in the delicious scent of the bouquet. Half-joking, I say, “You haven’t won me back yet.”
“They’re congratulations for your new job,” he says. “Plus, I know you need a vase.”
I drop my gaze to check out the unique white vase decorated with colorful polka dots. The sweet gesture causes some of my attitude to melt away. I do need a vase. I laugh. “Thank you. They’re beautiful.”
“You’re beautiful.”
I groan and he chuckles.
“I need to shower.”
“I know. We’re meeting your brother and friends for brunch in an hour.” He stands, drops a kiss to my cheek, and smacks my ass. “I’ll race you to the shower.”
I snort as I trail him into the bathroom.
He’s already stripped down, stepping into the hot steam when I enter. Immediately, I drink him in and feel all my tough girl resolve weaken.
Connor lifts an eyebrow. “No go, babe. We’ll be late meeting your friends.”
I pull my sleep shirt over my head and toss it to the floor. Connor retreats behind the door as I step out of my panties. The moment I enter, his arms are waiting for me.
The second he touches my skin, my head quiets and my heartbeat quickens. I fall into his embrace as easily as I did the first time, so many years ago. Without reservation, without hesitancy, without a second thought.
Connor kisses me hard on the mouth as the hot water beats down on our heads.
His touch is sure, his gaze imploring.
I blink, narrowing in on the sincerity pouring from him. He lifts my chin, captures my lips again. Heat shoots through my veins, warming every cold place, filling every empty crevice until I allow my soul to free fall with Connor Scott’s.
32
Connor
We’re forty minutes late to brunch, but no one seems to care. Not even Jack.
In fact, when Harlow’s friends or acquaintances or whatever you want to call them meet me, they do so with wide smiles and genuine interest. I’m surprised, unnerved even, but I don’t show it. Instead, I let my guard down and invite her friends to grill me, demonstrating to Harlow that I’m one hundred percent in.
“Wait you guys are going to do long distance?” one of her friends, a willowy blonde named Aubrey asks, wrinkling her nose.
Harlow shoots me a look of panic, but I don’t return her gaze. Instead I shrug, placing my hand on the back of Harlow’s chair. “That’s the plan for now.”
“So, you’ll commute from Chicago?” Dina, a petite woman with block braids, asks skeptically.
“I’ll do whatever I have to until I can move out here, permanently.”
A sigh travels through the table. Another of Low’s friends, Juan, grips his heart. “That’s love right there,” he whispers to his boyfriend.
Harlow’s eyes remain trained on the side of my face, but other than sliding my hand from her chair to her thigh, I don’t make eye contact.
I want her to know that I’m serious. Sincere. All in. This time, I pray like hell she believes me.
After several rounds of mimosas and Bloody Mary’s, our boozy brunch comes to an end. I hug Low’s friends goodbye as she finishes up a conversation with Aubrey. When it’s just us, she slips her arms around my waist.
“You were a hit,” she reassures me, her face open and happy.
“I’m relieved to hear it. I want your friends to like me, Low.”
“They more than like you. Especially Juan.”
“That’s good to know.” I curl my arm around her as we head toward the car. “But I’m more interested in what you think.”
She glances up at me, her green eyes bright. “I think that was a great first impression. Even though I wish you’d made it weeks ago. Hell, years ago, I’m happy you’re making the effort now.”
I squeeze her tighter, dropping a kiss to the top of her head. “I’m going to figure my stuff out, Harlow. The most important thing I realized this year is that I don’t want to live my life without anyone in my corner. And the only person I want in my corner is you. For the longest time, I resisted anything outside of Chicago because it was my home. It was the only place I could see myself, the only place I ever thought I’d fit in. But now, none of it matters except you. You’re my home, Low. I want to be with you, wherever in the world that is.”
“I want to be with you too, Connor. More than you can understand.”
“No.” I stop walking, placing my hands on her shoulders and peering into her eyes. “I do understand. I understand perfectly. I got you, baby. And you got me. We’ve always been us, Low. This time we’re just making it permanent.”
Slowly, a smile spreads across her face until she’s beaming at me.
I lean forward, kissing her sunshine and letting her warmth fill me up.
Harlow is home.
And home is the best damn place to be.
I pace back and forth next to the pool.
“Dude, relax,” Jack calls out from his perch on the diving board.
“She hasn’t messaged yet,” I reply, staring at my phone like I’ve done every ten seconds for the past ten minutes.
Her first day should have wrapped by now. Did she love it? Was she overwhelmed? Is it everything she hoped it would be?
“Oh, Connor. You’re back,” Mrs. Reid-Kinsley says, stepping out onto the pool deck.
I turn and smile at Harlow’s mom. Last month, an interaction with her put me on edge. But now, things seem easy. I’m not here for her. I’m here for Low. It doesn’t matter if her mom likes me or hates me. It only matters that Harlow loves m
e. Harlow’s love is more than enough and I shouldn’t have wasted so much time and energy trying to fit into her life when I fit perfectly with her. “Hey, Mrs. Reid-Kinsley.”
“Call me Debra, dear.”
“Good to see you again, Debra.” I turn back toward my phone.
“What are you and Jack up to? Where’s Harlow?” she asks, glancing at Jack.
“Just hanging. Low’s at her first day of work.”
“Oh, that’s right. Well, I’m sure she made a great impression.” There’s a glint in Debra’s eyes and a sharpness in her tone when she adds, “You know she’s not returning to Chicago, right? That was just temporary.”
“I know. I’m really happy for her. She deserves this.”
Surprise flickers in Debra’s expression. “Long-distance relationships are difficult.”
“Relationships in general are difficult. The only ones that work are the ones people make work,” I point out.
Debra clears her throat. “Harlow’s a vivacious, spirited young woman.” She changes tactics and I smirk at how obvious she is. Does she think I don’t know who Harlow is? That her outgoing nature and high energy aren’t some of the reasons why she’s so easy to love?
“Harlow is everything, Debra. You raised an incredible woman.”
At the compliment, some of the harshness in her expression softens. She stares at me for a beat before nodding in agreement. “Yes, well, since you’re still here, we should celebrate Harlow’s new job, her first day.”
“I’m sure she would love that.”
Her mother lifts an eyebrow at me. “Tonight.”
“Sounds good.”
Debra nods again before turning on her heel. Before she clears the pool deck, she glances at me over her shoulder. I can tell she has no idea what to make of me.
Once she’s back inside, Jack’s laughter rings out.
“What?” I ask him, walking closer to the diving board.
“Man, you confused the shit out of Deb,” he chuckles. “Good for you. Compliments go a long way with her.”
“I figured.” I glance at my phone for the umpteenth time.
“Dude, come on. She’ll be home soon enough, filling us in on every little detail of her day.”