Harley
When they know…
“I’m so sorry, honey.” Mom rushes over to me, wrapping her arms around me.
“About what?” I ask.
My dad comes over, patting my head.
Then it hits me.
Jackson told them.
I thought that I would be upset by this, but my reaction in that moment is just relief. It’s something that has been weighing on me ever since they first got here. It’s something I should’ve told them but I couldn’t quite find the words.
No, that’s not true. I knew that if I were to say those words out loud - I was pregnant. I lost the baby - then I would’ve probably lost myself as well.
And now, Jackson gave me the biggest gift he could have.
He told them himself.
“I’m so sorry that they found out this way, Harley,” Jackson says over and over again somewhere in the distance.
He’s standing right next to us, but it doesn’t feel like he’s here at all. It’s as if he’s talking through plexiglass.
I want to answer him.
I want to tell him that it’s alright, I forgive him. That there’s actually nothing to forgive, but I can’t. Not until my parents pull away.
Eventually, they do.
I dry my tears and try to compose myself.
In order to do that, I can’t think about what happened and what I lost, what we lost. I just have to think past it, if that makes any sense.
“I’m really sorry, Harley,” Jackson says again.
“It’s fine, really. I’m just glad that you know.”
I expect my parents to come at me with a million questions about why I didn’t tell them earlier, but they take me by surprise. Instead, they just tell me how sorry they are over everything that I’ve been through and that they love me.
After such an outpouring of emotion, we are all spent and exhausted and spend the next few hours talking about anything but the baby.
My mom focuses the conversation on the task at hand; finding Parker and holding him accountable for everything that he has done.
She is convinced that it was him who was on the bike, but I am not so sure. I know that he fits the profile and it did look like him physically but Parker was never this daring before.
Whenever he approached me before, he was always so…timid. Unsure of himself.
Then again, when his threats got worse and worse, he did start to put off a completely different vibe.
“I still don’t know how the papers could’ve found out about this so quickly,” Jackson says when the conversation reaches somewhat of a lull.
I now know that they actually found out about the death of their unborn grandchild, not from Jackson, but from Page Six, a popular celebrity section of the New York Post.
Other blogs and gossip papers picked up the story, including those owned by Minetta.
“Did you tell anyone at Minetta about what happened?”
Jackson swallows hard and I know the answer before he even says a word.
“Only Phillips and a few other people I thought that I could trust.”
“They probably leaked it.”
“No, they wouldn’t leak it to the Post. They are a competing paper.”
I shake my head, shrugging my shoulders.
“What?” he asks.
“They couldn’t very well publish it in a blog or a paper that Minetta owns. Not initially. Then you’d know for sure. But if the Post publishes it first, then they can just jump on the bandwagon but publish all the juicy details themselves."
It’s as if a lightbulb goes off in his head. His face lights up and then quickly turns to anger and disappointment.
“Honestly, it doesn’t really matter, does it?” I ask.
“How can you say that?”
“I just assumed that it would be on the news one way or another. A bike messenger shooting someone in the head in plain sight is still not a normal news day in New York City. And the fact that you are kind of known in the city as a recluse billionaire just added more spice to the story.”
“But what about the baby?” he asks. “How did they know that?”
I shrug. That I don’t know.
He paces around the room trying to figure it out.
“I didn’t tell anyone at Minetta about that. It was our secret. Who else knew besides me?” he asks.
“Martin. Julie. But they kept it quiet. And I don’t think Julie has given any statements about anything since it happened. She would never tell anyone anyway.”
We go through all the people that we know who could’ve possibly been the source and no one seems like a good candidate.
If they knew about us and the shooting they didn’t know about the baby.
No one really did before Jackson, Julie, and Martin.
And then another name pops into my head.
“What about Aurora?” I ask.
He looks at me surprised.
“How is she?” my mom asks.
She left her husband in Europe and has been staying with Jackson for a bit, I want to say but I bite my tongue.
I don’t want to be mean-spirited and I don’t want to complain to my parents about something that doesn’t concern them.
But the fact that she is there still annoys me.
She has money. She has friends. Why does she have to stay at Jackson’s?
“She’s a big shareholder in Minetta now,” I say.
“Right,” Jackson says through his teeth.
“Did she know about the baby?” my dad asks.
“No, she didn’t. I haven’t seen her in a while. You know that, Harley.”
“Well, actually, I don’t, but that’s what you have said.”
Jackson takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly.
“She doesn’t know anything about this. It’s not Aurora.”
“So, who could it be?” I ask. He shrugs. I shrug, too.
We try to go over the names again but we just keep going in circles. Why does it even matter? Someone knew and someone told.
Maybe it’s fine that this secret is out.
Maybe it shouldn’t have been a secret at all. I take the last sip of my tea and place the cup back on the tray next to the bed.
When I glance up at my mom, she has a concerned look on her face.
“What is it?” I ask.
“What if it was Parker?”
10
Harley
At the funeral…
Martin’s funeral is held a few days later. His company made all the arrangements and Jackson paid for it.
Martin never told me about his family and I am surprised when I see both of his parents and his brothers and sisters along with their spouses and kids filling up the front two rows.
When we first walk into the funeral home for the viewing, Jackson nudges me to go and say something to them, but I’m not ready.
I find a seat closest to the door and stay there.
The service is heartbreaking, and it’s all I can do to make it through it. Tears roll down my cheeks without my permission.
There’s nothing I can do to make them stop. This man is dead because of me. That’s the only thought that runs through my mind over and over again. I know that he was just doing his job.
He was my bodyguard. But were it not for me, he would still be alive.
After the service, I watch Julie kneel over his lifeless body. I still haven’t seen it and it’s time for me to pay my respects. I want to run screaming out of the building, but Jackson pulls me by my arm to the front.
Martin’s family gives Julie some space and time alone with him, but as soon as she pulls away from the casket, they huddle around her, placing her in a protective cocoon.
That’s perfectly fine with me. I haven’t seen or spoken to her since it happened.
I thought that maybe she would visit me in the hospital, but she didn’t. When I did go home, she wasn’t there. I tried texting and calling her, but she never answered me.
<
br /> Julie is dressed in a long black dress and a form-fitting black blazer. Her eyes are bloodshot with dark black bags underneath. She is wearing sunglasses, even though we are all inside, and so is Martin’s mom.
“Julie, I’m so sorry,” I whisper, walking up to her.
I open my arms to bring her in for a hug, but she just walks past me. Her rebuke startles me.
I have no idea why she did that. Is she angry with me?
I’m about to go after her, but instead Jackson leads me to the casket and forces me to look at Martin.
They did their best to cover up the bullet hole in his forehead, in fact, it’s hard to even see it at all if you don’t know what you’re looking for.
But looking at him now, it’s all I see. I blink and I’m back on that pavement staring into his open lifeless eyes.
My body starts to shake and I feel like I’m going to throw up.
Before I make a scene, I break free from Jackson’s ironclad grasp on my arm and run out of the room.
I find Julie in the bathroom, standing in front of the mirror, applying concealer under her eyes.
At first, I ignore her when I walk into one of the stalls, but I quickly walk straight back out.
“I’m so sorry for your loss, Julie. You know that, right?” I ask, walking right next to her.
“And I am sorry for yours,” she says coldly.
We stand staring at each other for a few moments. I don’t understand why she’s so angry with me. I search her face, but I can’t find the answer.
I turn on the sink and splash some water on my face. It feels cool and refreshing, but only for a moment.
“I’m not sure what else to say,” I confess. “I’m just so sorry.”
I try to hug her again, but this time she physically pushes me away.
“Harley, I can’t, okay?”
“Why? What’s wrong?”
“Are you serious?”
I stare at her.
“Are you seriously asking me what’s wrong at my boyfriend’s funeral? After he got murdered right in front of me?”
Well, technically in front of me, I correct her silently.
“No, and you know that,” I say. “I’m trying to hug you and give you my condolences and you’re just refusing to even talk to me.”
She shakes her head. Suddenly, the stern facade disappears and a waterfall of tears starts to fall down her face. I reach for her again, but again she pulls away.
“Get away from me,” she says. “I don’t want you to touch me.”
“Why?” I start to cry along with her. “You’re my best friend. I’m so sorry. I want to be here for you.”
“Well, you can’t,” she barks back.
“Why?” I plead with her.
“Don’t you get it, Harley? Don’t you fucking get it?”
I stare at her, not entirely sure what she means.
“Martin is dead because of you.”
Her words hit me like a punch to the face. I hate her for saying it. I hate her for confirming what I already believe. She shouldn’t blame me. She should let me be here for her. But when I look back at her, all I see is rage.
“Julie, we both lost him. He became a good friend of mine throughout this whole thing. I miss him, too, but that doesn’t mean —”
She cuts me off by putting her hand over my mouth.
“Shut up,” she whispers. I have never seen her like this before. Usually, she yells and screams or cries. But now she is calm and it terrifies me.
Instead of pushing away her hand, I take a step back and wait for her to let it fall back to her side.
“We both lost people, Julie,” I say quietly. “You lost your boyfriend. I lost my…” My words trail off. I can’t even say it out loud at first. “I lost my baby.”
“No,” she says, shaking her head. “You didn’t lose your baby. You weren’t even sure if you wanted to keep it a few weeks ago. So don’t act like you lost anything as big as what I lost. I didn’t just lose my boyfriend, Harley, I lost my best friend. My future husband. The father of my future children. I lost everything.”
11
Harley
When there’s more pain….
I nod and take another step back.
If you start to play the game of comparisons in terms of whose life is worse or who suffered more, you will both lose in the end.
Her words hurt me to my core, but I can see, perhaps a little too late, that this is not the time to talk to her about anything.
I should walk away. I shouldn’t talk to her now. I know this, but still, something makes me try again.
“I’m not trying to compare your loss to my loss, Julie, I’m just trying to make you understand,” I say.
“Understand what?”
“That I’m sorry for your loss. I am sorry that Martin’s gone.”
“Well, thank you very much! I mean, where would I be without your condolences, Harley?” Julie says sarcastically.
“Okay, I’m going to go,” I say, walking past her. But she puts out her hand to block me.
“He’s dead because of you,” she whispers into my ear. “Do you know what that means? Do you know how that makes me feel?”
“You and I both know that he’s dead because of Parker. I didn’t kill him, Julie. He was a bodyguard. He protected me.”
“Well, he should’ve protected himself.”
“Yeah, maybe you’re right. Maybe he should’ve. But he didn’t.”
“I’m just so angry, Harley. I’m so angry over everything.” Tears start to roll down her face. I pull her close to me, and this time I don’t let go. She cries into my shoulder and my whole body shakes with her sobs.
“I can’t…I can’t.” She pushes me away, wrapping her arms around herself. “You should’ve died at that cabin, Harley. Then Martin would still be alive.”
She says that and walks away. I don’t follow her. I’m in too much pain. I bend in half and collapse onto the floor. Her words have cut me as if they were a knife. I knew that she would be angry and upset but I didn’t know that she could be that cruel.
I don’t know how long I sit on the floor of that bathroom, but sometime later, Jackson comes in and physically lifts me up.
“I knew that I shouldn’t have come here,” I mumble over and over again as I try to explain to him what has just happened between Julie and me.
“She’s just upset. She didn’t mean it,” he says. “I’m sure that after some time passes, everything will be fine.”
Maybe he’s right. At least, maybe on her end. But I’m not sure how long it will take me to forget what she has said to me. I’m not sure one lifetime is enough time.
I don’t want to go home again, but there are some things that I need to get.
I decide to go to Jackson’s without even asking him for an invitation. I am glad that one is not required.
He just drives me to my apartment and helps me pack two suitcases of things.
I take everything that I think I will need, including old journals, my computer, and all of my favorite clothes.
The apartment seems empty without Martin and Julie whispering in the kitchen and I can’t wait to get out of there.
“It wasn’t that long ago when he was here all the time,” I say, zipping up the bigger suitcase. “It’s just so weird being here without him.”
“Yeah, I know,” Jackson says even though there’s no way he could know.
Martin wasn’t here that long, but the space is small and he quickly became a part of things without even trying.
No, that’s not true.
Martin was a great addition to our little home.
He put Julie at ease and created a buffer between us that I didn’t even know we needed. I always thought we got along, but it wasn’t until he was here that I realized how well we could get along.
“Thanks for coming to my place,” Jackson says in the car after we pull away from my street.
“No, thank you for letting me
come over even without an invitation,” I say, staring out of the window at the shiny lights whizzing past us.
“I’ve been meaning to ask you this for a while now, so I guess this is as good a time as any,” Jacksons says after a moment.
“What?” I ask, without turning to look at him.
“What if you don’t just come to stay with me?”
I look at him, not sure where he’s going with that.
“What if you move in with me instead?”
I give him a brief nod even before I can fully process the question.
“What is that?” he asks. “Is that a yes?”
“Yes, that’s a yes,” I say quietly.
He puts his hand on mine, giving it a little squeeze.
We ride the rest of the way in silence. My thoughts return to Julie and the things that she said to me at the funeral.
This is not exactly how I wanted things to end. In fact, I hope it’s not the end. But it is for now.
She doesn’t want me in her life.
She blames me for her boyfriend’s death. I’ve tried to make amends, but what else can I do?
We pull up to his house around back and he presses the button to open the garage door that is completely hidden from sight.
“Just give it some time,” Jackson says, as if he can read my mind.
I nod.
“Welcome home.”
12
Harley
When I look around my new home….
I wake up the following morning in Jackson’s big bed all alone.
Nothing happened the night before except me climbing under the covers and falling asleep.
The funeral has drained me of the little energy I had left, leaving me completely spent.
This morning, even though I slept more than twelve hours, I don’t feel any more rested than I did the night before.
I take a shower, wrap my hair in a towel, and put back on what I wore last night: my favorite pair of loose and tropical colored pajama pants along with a soft gray sweater.
Tangled up in Love Page 4