In Pursuit
Page 19
The ride back to his place is thankfully brief. Within a few minutes, Harris and his driver Max are moving all of our bags into the foyer of his home. After thanking Max I drift toward the terrace, eager to feel the fresh air. I lean against the railing, inhaling the city as I survey the buildings before me.
The source of my new joy cups my spaghetti-strapped shoulders with his hands and presses a kiss into my hair.
“It felt like six weeks apart instead of two and a half days,” he says softly.
The weight of my secret dampens my mood. When Sean asked me if I trusted Harris, I said yes. Deep down I know that I can tell him without fear of a negative consequence. You are mine, and I am yours he’s told me. If I’m ready to commit to that promise, then I must be honest with him.
“I need to tell you the real reason I moved out,” I confess. Spinning my sandaled feet, I twirl to face him. “When I went home on Wednesday night, I accidentally saw Claire with Peter.”
He frowns deeply, but doesn’t respond.
“They were together.”
Harris sighs, placing his hands on my shoulders and positioning me back toward the view. He wraps both arms around my chest, tugging my back into his front side. The grip is rigid, his body taunt.
“I was afraid something like that had happened.” His voice sounds tight.
“I couldn’t tell you over the phone,” I murmur.
“It’s okay, baby.” He sighs, wearily. “Let me handle this.”
“I didn’t want to confront Claire, because I don’t really think it’s my business. But when we’re just starting dating, and the conflict with my career… I can’t live there anymore,” I admit.
“No, probably not.”
“Um, there’s Amanda, too. You know she’s my client and sort of a friend. Do you think I should say something to her? Is it my place?”
“Let me talk to my sister first.” He settles he chin on the top of my head, nestling our bodies together. “We’ll start there, and then figure out what you should do. Together.”
We’re silent for a long while, contemplating the city. He accepted my revelation so easily. He didn’t seem surprised, more like resigned. Perhaps exhausted by her other exploits?
With each breath, I sense he’s relaxing. The tension in his body eases away and I want to keep him in that state of mind. We have plenty of time to talk about his relationship with Claire; now I want to cheer him up.
Finally, he speaks. “Would you be mad if I kept you to myself tonight?”
“Please.”
He groans behind me. “That word reminds me of what it’s like to have you in my bed.”
I erupt in giggles. “What happens there? I forget.” He turns me around quickly and grips my wrist, tugging me back toward the apartment.
“Show, rather than tell,” he says gruffly as we enter his bedroom. He picks me up easily, and tosses my body, which is shaking with laughter, onto the bed. With an exaggerated growl, he dives down to me, raining kisses over my cheeks.
Several hours and one shower later, I’m once again bundled up in Harris sweatpants and t-shirt. No underwear, he commanded as I hunted for clothing. Why? I asked with raised eyebrows. If you need to ask, then I obviously didn’t go a good enough job showing you. He winked at me, and I all but melted into a pile of lovesick goo at his feet. Even though I had a bunch of clothing in my weekend bag, Harris told me it’s sexier to see me in his clothes than my own. Of course, I’d rather be wrapped in his scent over my mine, so I greedily oblige. His shirts have just the right amount of fabric softness, ideal for snuggling.
We’re back on the balcony, eating pizza and sipping sparkling water. City dwellers zip around the streets below, but up here the mood is serene. Nowhere to be, nothing to do, but live in the moment. Together.
Then he clears his throat, alerting me that something serious is coming. We’re sitting next to each other at the large wood table, he at the head and me to his immediate left, so that we can indulge in the view while we dine.
“Edith, tell me why that song had such a powerful hold over you.”
A flush clears the color from my face. I play dumb. “What song?”
“I Think of You.” My faux confusion is clearly not deterring him. “Remember the day I played it, when I took you home from the textile shop? Then, when Greg mentioned it, you went so white, I thought he had somehow sucked all of the peachy goodness from your cheeks.”
At that, I fight back a slight smile. Then I force myself to study him, really read his expression. It’s empathetic, understanding, and open. With him I’ve found a partner to share the hurt that keeps me awake at night, that keeps me from evolving and moving on.
“Yes.” The word escapes in a sigh. I push my plate away and scoot back in my chair. “That song is, well, I don’t exactly know why, but very meaningful to my dad. Maybe the lyrics remind him of my mom, I’m not really sure.” My voice cracks and his free hand flies to mine, dovetailing our fingers together. I nod my thanks, and forge ahead. “Anyway, he would play it sometimes. Loud. Really, really loud. I’d sit in my bedroom listening.” A defiant tear snakes down my cheek. “It’s a painful memory for me, because we never sought comfort in each other. Our rooms shared a wall, but it was like we were continents apart. I just wanted a dad, and not a roommate.”
Harris presses the pad of his thumb to my lips, silencing me. Then he moves in, kissing the wet trail on my cheek.
Against his finger I say, “I’m okay.”
“You are more than okay,” he agrees, leaning in for a tender kiss. It stops me in my tracks, because whether either of us ready to admit it or not, this display speaks louder than any words could. The way his lips gently coast over mine conveys unsaid sentiments.
I want to ask him about Cooper, I want to know what pain he has but from the way he is studying me, I know that more questions are coming. His thumb slides down my cheek, neck, shoulder, to the crook of my elbow, leaving shivers in its wake. The delightful touch is not enough to deter the conversation, though.
“Tell me about your relationship with your dad.”
“What relationship?” I scoff. Then I immediately cover my mouth with my hand, trying to push the escaped question back inside.
“Don’t be ashamed of how you feel,” Harris tells me. “From everything I’ve heard and seen, he doesn’t seem like much of a father.”
“No, he wasn’t the best,” I admit. “But under the circumstances, I can’t say I blame him. He was only twenty when he lost my mom, and he didn’t know how to raise a little girl by himself. ”
“I don’t buy that,” Harris says roughly, causing me to wince. Both hands grip my upper arms and he hauls me closer so that he has my full attention. “You were the child, and he was the parent. It was on him to support you, love you, tell you he’s proud of your accomplishments.”
“It’s not that easy,” I spit back at him, anger bubbling. Not at him, no, but for the years of loneliness. Why wasn’t I enough for my dad? “I think I remind him of her. My musical talents all came from her. And once, when she was tipsy my grandmother said -” I nearly choke on the words, because at an earlier time, they both thrilled and disturbed me. As soon as I get a hold of my power of speech, I go on. “Lauren and Edith Neff are the same person, down to personality ticks. I stretch my fingers before I play the piano, just like her.”
“All the more reason for your dad to treasure you.”
My gaze travels to the cityscape before us. I blink as they lose focus. “He could have been a better father.”
“Damn right.” Silence, and then, “Edith?”
I shake my head to clear the fuzzy thoughts. “Yes?”
“Forget about your dad for a moment, and listen to me. You’ve done something to me that I never thought was possible again. God, you make me happy, you evoke these feelings that I never knew myself capable of. Do you realize I was consumed with jealousy that night at Luminous? Every guy there wanted you, and of course fucking War
den had his hands on you. I nearly ripped them off.”
My eyebrows rise in shock at his vulgarity and honesty.
“You get jealous?” I ask shyly, a smile playing at my lips and my distress over my crappy relationship with my dad fading to the background.
He smirks, the intensity dissipating. “That was before you became mine, and I became yours. Now, not so much.”
“Yes,” I say breathlessly. I press a kiss to his neck, but then he settles me back into my chair, and he in his.
“What do you want to ask me about?” he says, changing the subject abruptly, opening himself up to the potential of painful reveals.
It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask him about his brother, but there’s so much I want to know about him, that I decide to put that painful topic on hold.
“Your parents.” I don’t frame it as a question, to make the statement as nonthreatening as possible.
“Go right for the good stuff, huh?” he mutters, a wry smile appearing.
I push his lengthy pants up higher on my legs so I can hug my knees to my chest as I wait for him to continue.
“It’s probably clear to you that Claire and I don’t have a close relationship with our mom and dad. Partially due to them living in Sydney.”
That's not what she told me, but I get that.
“Australia?”
“The one and only.” The conversation hits a lull as he mulls over something, his gaze unfocused.
“What are they doing there?” I ask gently.
The trance broken, he continues. “This would be easier to talk about if I was touching you.”
Immediately, I move into his seat so I can curl into his lap. Harris pulls me in close, his hands nestle my head into his chest. I press my cheek to his heart, listening to the steady, reassuring beat.
“The expensive condos, luxury cars, drivers, private planes... it doesn’t all come from the law firm.”
What? So not where I thought the conversation was headed. Then I realize he said private planes. Plural. Holy moly.
“My parents are in Australia, running a hedge fund and adding to their empire. Mom and Dad both came from money, Mom the legal type, and Dad’s the financial type. Like your parents, they started dating young. Old money brought old money together at a private school on the North Shore. Thankfully, Mom and dad were more down to earth than their parents and sent us to public school.”
I take a deep breath, wondering where he will go next.
“Originally, my dad became a lawyer to support his own family business. Then he met mom, and it was a match made in heaven for their families. He brought clients from his family’s business dealings to the firm. When I graduated from college...” He clears his throat roughly, pausing to stroke my loose hair. We sit still like that for awhile. I lift my hand to the arm holding me to his chest and squeeze him lightly. “After I graduated college, they decided to move to Australia. Dad had some opportunities and extended family there. They left lots of toys in their wake; private jet, trust funds,” he adds bitterly.
“It sounds like a lot of responsibility was thrust on you really fast,” I say gently. “I can see why you take such a large role in Claire’s life. She’s very lucky to have a brother like you looking out for her.” I try to convey how deeply I believe what I am saying.
He presses a kiss into the crown of my head and hums noncommittally. “Does that answer satisfy the question?”
I want Harris to open up to me, tell me about his brother and whatever else lurks beneath the impeccable exterior. He did give up some information about his parents, that was certainly a step forward, so I decide to be happy with the nugget of information and nuzzle deeper into his chest.
“I want to ask you something else, something that might upset you,” he says. My body tenses slightly in anticipation.
“Go ahead,” I encourage dryly. There’s nothing I could do to stop the question.
“Why were you with that prick?”
I know who he means easily.
Maneuvering my body so I can look up at him, I shake my head. “Sarah and Greg introduced me to Jared. At the time, I was feeling vulnerable because I was always the third wheel to my best friends. Also, Dad and I were even more distant than ever.”
“Why?”
“For one, it wasn’t football season.” I give him a self deprecating grin that he returns with a scowl while he waits on the rest.
“Truthfully, my father and I went for months at a time where our relationship was limited to very basic conversation. I cooked and managed the home, but that was the extent of what we talked about. Hardly warm and fuzzy. We’ve only spoken once since I’ve been here.” I avoid his eyes when I say this, because I called him as a result of the harrowing pain without Harris.
“Anyway, Jared and his family took interest in me, and it felt good to be included. I always have been desperate to feel part of something bigger than just my own island. It took me a while to realize that they liked the image I could present for their political aspirations more than me as a person.”
Harris tugs me in closer again, stroking at my hair and back in long, sweeping movements. “You’ll tell me if he bothers you again?”
I answer his question with one of my own. “Did you call him?”
“Of course.”
“Why?”
“Because you are mine, Edith. And I am yours. You know that right?”
I blush furiously, out of happiness. “Yes. Don’t distract me. What did you say to him?”
“To stay the fuck away from you, and if he doesn’t, I’ll ruin him and his father’s shitty career.”
I gasp at the way he nonchalantly recalls the threat. “Harris! You shouldn’t have done that. His family is incredibly well connected, and they could stir up trouble for you or your family or – ”
“I’m better connected, sweet Edith,” Harris smiles darkly. “That little shit thinks he can push you around because his daddy is a congressman struggling to maintain constituents. Wouldn’t be hard to get him out of office, and I wouldn’t hesitate to do that if he harms you.”
“Harris.”
“I protect what’s mine.”
“And I’m yours,” I whisper into his neck, where my cheek has taken up residence. I’m swept up with the thrill of his protectiveness, a brand new emotion not often bestowed on me.
With his now familiar playful growl, he stands, holding me to his chest. “Now, I’m going to take what’s mine.”
I can’t contain my happy grin.
“You think this is funny?”
“A little.”
“I’ll show you how funny I can be then,” he mutters, placing me on the chaise longue, the scene of our first unsuccessful attempt at intimacy. I’m spread out before him, this time smiling up with trusting eyes. I know Harris won’t hurt me. I have nothing to fear of him.
He clutches my left foot in his hand and then, using his free hand, begins to tickle my instep. I howl, writhing back forth, completely enamored.
Saturday begins so well that I forget to have any defense mechanisms in place in case things fall apart. My cursed luck strikes again. I should have known my bliss with Harris couldn’t last too long, but I clung to the hope that we were something special.
Once we made it out of the bedroom, I cooked Harris an extensive breakfast of pancakes, eggs and turkey bacon. After we clean up ̶ this time I won’t leave anything behind for Eleanor ̶ he insists that I pick my poison for the day. Meaning, we can do whatever I want.
“Anything?” I ask as I rifle through my bag. I'm only in a lacy tan thong and a beige bra. His hands settle on my hips and then I feel the rigidity of his erection pressing into my lower back.
“We could always stay here,” he says huskily.
I giggle at the hot trail his breath leaves on my ear. “Let’s go out for a little at least. Take me on a walk on the beach?”
“Only if you don’t mind a stop on the way,” he says, dropping a light kiss o
n the shell of my ear.
“Anything,” I say. To gain some control back over my body, I step away and tug on a pair of denim shorts and a billowy linen tank top.
He’s wearing a pair of chinos, rolled to reveal his ankles and a plain white t-shirt. He’s delicious and I tell him so. He laughs as he presses a firm hand to my lower back, steering me out of the apartment.
“Not as tasty as you, edible Edith. Especially that spot between your legs that makes you purr...”
A blush covers my cheeks. “Harris!”
“Don’t get shy on me now, or I’ll just have to taste you again,” he says with a thoughtful expression. “Actually, I plan on doing that anyway.”
Turns out the stop he wanted to make on the way was really just a pause in the lobby of his building. Harris had my new favorite Chicago coffee delivered.
“Are you always this thoughtful?” I ask, sipping on my latte.
He casually throws his arm around my shoulders, tucking me against him.
“Only for my girl.”
When we’re on our way back from the beach we run into one of Harris’ colleagues at the firm, and her husband. They’re an older couple, walking their terrier near the shops on Michigan Avenue.
“Harris, it’s great to see you out of the office,” the woman says teasingly while she eyes where Harris and my hands weave together.
“I do take some time off.”
"Not nearly enough," she reprimands gently.
"Maybe so."
“And who do we have here?” She’s friendly enough, eyes shimmering with delight as she looks me over.
“Betty, Steve, please meet my girlfriend, Edith. Edith, the Smiths are old family friends and Betty and I work together at the firm.”
“Pleasure to meet you.” I can’t help but beam that Harris has announced me as a girlfriend to his colleague and friend. They greet me with warm handshakes and smiles.
"I didn't know Harris had a girlfriend, but I'm pleased to see him with such a polite young woman," Betty says in a motherly way.