Love You Forever (Serendipitous Love Book 5)

by Christina C Jones

  “Wow! Really?! He is…”

  “Gorgeous, yeah.”

  “He’s okay looking,” I snapped, interrupting the conversation Astrid and Quinn were having between themselves.

  Astrid laughed. “Oh, whatever Syd. You know damned well that man is more than okay looking.”

  I sucked my teeth, but didn’t say anything back, because I couldn’t. Truthfully, Harlan was fine. At Stacks, he was usually in simple slacks and a button up with a tie, to fulfill his role as manager. It should have been corny, but he wore it well. Now, he was in a blue-grey tee shirt that put his biceps on full display, dark jeans that hung low on his waist, and clean black and white J’s on his feet. It was a casual look, nothing special about it, but on Harlan, with his fresh haircut and neatly groomed facial hair… damn I hate him.

  As we approached, the guys looked up, stepping aside to give us room to pass. They all spoke, but of course, my attention remained with Harlan.

  “You ladies doin’ alright this evening?” he asked, in his subtle southern drawl. He was speaking to all of us, but his eyes were on me as Quinn giggled – typical reaction to Harlan – and then she and Astrid answered, in a chorus of mmhmm. He looked away from me long enough to give them polite smiles, and then returned his gaze to mine, like he was waiting on my response. Astrid and Quinn had both stopped walking, so I had to answer, basically.

  “I’m fine.”

  No bitter edge, no angry bite, just I’m fine, with no inflection at all as I tugged at Astrid and Quinn, urging them to continue walking.

  “Y’all have a good night,” he called after us, and Astrid and Quinn gave him giggly parting words back, but I didn’t turn around. When we were a little further down the street, Quinn nudged me in the side.

  “Okay, so are you gonna tell me what that was about?” she asked, lifting an eyebrow at me. “I mean, you’ve talked a little about him before, but you never told me why you were so mad at him.”

  Astrid laughed. “Because she doesn’t even know herself.”

  “I do know,” I snapped back. “I know exactly why.”

  The first I heard of Harlan was a long phone conversation with my father. He couldn’t stop talking about his army buddy’s son, who’d showed up at Stacks to talk to him. At first, I didn’t think much of it, but the more and more Daddy talked about him, it became evident that a relationship was building. And honestly… it scared me a little.

  My parents loved me. That was a fact, something I’d never doubted. But it wasn’t exactly a secret that my father had always wanted a boy. After a difficult pregnancy and birth, he and my mother had decided against trying again, and my father accepted that – and named me after himself, since he couldn’t pass the name down to a son.

  But the name wasn’t the only thing he wanted to pass down. He spoke often about the “legacy” of Stacks, the diner he and my mother had opened together a few years before I was born. By the time I was in my twenties, Stacks was a community landmark, and its continued success was something that, to my father, meant everything. “When me and my sweetheart leave this earth,” he would say, “Somebody is going to have to maintain this legacy.”

  I always thought that somebody would be me. Stacks was my birthright. I’d loved the place since I was born, charmed and entertained customers, cooked, bussed tables, washed dishes, everything. The regulars knew me, the surrounding business owners knew me, and the delivery people knew me. As much as this place meant to my father, it meant the same to me.

  I knew the business and books at Stacks in and out, but I went and got a business degree anyway, just to be the best I could. My father hadn’t been pleased by what he called a “pointless” degree, when really, the problem was that it wasn’t what he wanted for me. I enjoyed cooking, and I was good at it, but it wasn’t what I loved. I loved the marketing, the number crunching, the inventory, the technical side of things. And I was good at that too. But, I went with my father’s wishes.

  He’d always wanted to attend culinary school, but never had the time or opportunity. Even though he loved Stacks, he’d always wanted to be a well-known, well-respected chef, so he passed that ideal down to me. So I went for the dream he hadn’t been able to achieve – sort of. I blended things and started culinary school while I was in my sophomore year of getting that business degree. Four and a half years of schooling, and I was more than qualified to tackle the kitchen or back office at Stacks when it was time.

  And… so was Harlan, who hadn’t finished his degree, but had been at Stacks every day, working and learning for the four years I was away.

  But my dad wouldn’t do that to me, right? Knowing that I lived and breathed Stacks, there was no way he would turn those reins over to someone else. So instead of resenting Harlan, I embraced him. As far as I could tell he really was a good guy, and he filled a void for my father. What was the harm in that?

  As much as daddy tried to push that “he’s like a son to me, so he’s basically your brother” stuff, it was ridiculous. Harlan was handsome, with a quiet, magnetic sex appeal that took my thoughts all kinds of places that were nowhere near brotherly. But it was fine. We were barely around each other anyway, so it was no big deal to be attracted to him.

  That changed once I moved back home.

  Harlan was one of those guys who kept a smile on his face, and his feelings tucked close, so you never really knew what he was thinking. For all I knew, I was just his boss’ cute daughter in his eyes. But in mine, Harlan was... everything. Handsome, smart, funny, with that damned accent. And if it were possible, he loved Stacks - the man and the restaurant - just as much as me. There was nothing not to like.

  Still though… there were reasons not to cross that line:

  I didn’t considered Harlan a brother, but my parents certainly considered him a son.

  We worked together, and if things went bad, we’d still have to see each other every day.

  If things went bad, my father would probably kill him.

  Harlan gave me no indication that he was even thinking about me like that.

  So with those reasons in mind, I tucked my crush away, and interacted with Harlan like I would with anyone else. I was working, I had a social life, and to appease my father, I was looking – but not very hard – for a job in the kitchen at a few upscale places. There were plenty of distractions. I dated a little, and watched Harlan do the same, but inevitably, it seemed, we drifted closer.

  We went from coworkers, to acquaintances, to friends, to… something else. Something I couldn’t quite explain, but relished being a part of. Harlan was so outwardly unaffected that maybe it didn’t mean that much to him, but it meant a helluva lot to me. It was almost like… puppy love, I guess. You spend all day texting, then all night on the phone, pouring your heart into a conversation that neither of you wants to end. But in person, I never quite knew what to do or say, and Harlan was just… Harlan. The same guy he was with everybody, so it was almost like… was that long night on the phone just a dream?

  But then we’d repeat that cycle. And the next day, I’d see a customer flirting with him, and watch him flirt back – just like always. But suddenly, those pretty girls were walking away looking disappointed, instead of triumphant. And when we worked together, he was always a little closer to me than he really needed to be. Text messages got flirtier, phone calls got deeper, and went later into the night. The dynamic changed, but at the same time, didn’t. Mainly because of my father I think, there was still that “should we or shouldn’t we” type of underlying uncertainty.

  So… we didn’t.

  But the feelings were there… I think.

  They had to be, right? For him to share the type of things he’d shared with me, about his parent’s divorce, his mother’s indifference, his father’s sickness and subsequent passing… Those were the type of things that people held close, but he shared them with me. So I shared with him too. How I’d only gone to culinary school for my father, how I felt grateful, but simultaneously s
tifled by the attention and expectations my parents placed on me. How I felt obligated to go along with what they wanted, include them in the decisions for the course of my life, because they’d done so much for me. How I desperately wanted the newly opened manager position at Stacks, but was honestly afraid that as qualified as I was on paper, it was too big a responsibility for me.

  In retrospect, I should have kept it all to myself. When Harlan offered to talk to him for me, to get a gauge on where I stood in possibilities for the position, it should have been a red flag. I should have said no. Maybe then, my father would have been announcing me as manager less than a week later, instead of Harlan.

  But… c’est la vie.

  “He sweet-talked and southern-charmed his way into my family, and right into a position that was supposed to be mine.” I unhooked my arms from Astrid and Quinn and walked a little faster, but they caught right up to me.

  “So you’re mad at him because he got the manager job?” Quinn asked, sounding skeptical. “Why would you be mad at him for that though?”

  I sucked my teeth. “Because, he betrayed me. He and my father talked all the time. It wasn’t a coincidence that after I told Harlan about my doubts, and he said he would talk to him, my dad was suddenly in a hurry to give him that position.”

  “But you’re assuming that you were gonna that position, Syd. And accusing Harlan of something pretty ugly to justify why you didn’t get it. What if the position was never yours to begin with?” Astrid asked, stopping in front of her building.

  “Why wouldn’t it have been? I’m the only child.”

  She shook her head. “Not in your dad’s eyes. To him, so is Harlan, who’s what… two years older? And a man? And not his “short stack”, with the college degree, and culinary certification, who was offered a job at a fancy New York restaurant. I mean… it seems pretty plain to me – you just don’t want to see it.”

  “Don’t want to see what?” I asked, crossing my arms.

  She smiled, then lifted her hands to rest on my shoulders. “Syd… look at me. Look me in the eyes and tell me that you really thought, with Harlan there, after being groomed for six years to do that job, that your father, who wanted you to do something “bigger” than Stacks, was going to give you that position.”

  “I really thought Daddy was gonna give me that job,” I said, bluntly, tipping my head to the side.

  Astrid smirked, then shook her head. “Sydnee Scott, really think about it. Stop trying to be a smart ass, and do a little introspection about this. Do you really think that job was ever yours?”

  “Yes,” I answered immediately. “I absolutely… I…”

  Maybe I didn’t.

  I was always working harder, learning every facet of the business, getting a business degree, going to culinary school, busting my ass to prove myself worthy, and really… no. He’d never given me any indication he planned to turn the reins over to me. When I asked, whether a direct question or a hint, his answer was always “we’ll see what happens when the time comes”, and he wouldn’t be pushed on that. I always thought he was just keeping me on my toes, making sure I didn’t slack for fear of being passed over, but now… what if he just didn’t want to disappoint me?

  “You know what I think?” Quinn asked, pulling me from my thoughts.

  I shrugged. “I’m sure you’re about to pull the psychologist handbook out on me.”

  She smiled. “Just a little bit, since I’m not certified yet. I think, that you don’t really think Harlan told your father anything. I think Harlan is just the easier target for your anger.”

  I lifted an eyebrow. “The easier target?”

  “Yep,” she nodded. “Harlan is an innocent party in this equation. He was there, and qualified, the perfect alternate candidate for a job your father didn’t want to give you anyway. So he gives it to Harlan with no explanation, knowing that you wanted it, knowing that you’ve been working for it. And instead of getting mad at your father, you take it out on Harlan. He charmed his way into your family, sweet talked his way into your job, and betrayed you to your father. Do you see how you portray him as some type of… I don’t know, a con artist? A grifter?”

  My mouth dropped open. “But… but I haven’t called him anything like that!”

  “Well why not? If you feel like he tricked his way into your family and broke your trust, why don’t you call him the snake he is?”

  “Because… I…”

  Quinn smiled. “Because you still have feelings for him. And the parts of you where those feelings reside know that all the things the angry parts of you are saying about Harlan aren’t true. They’re just a deflection tactic to justify the anger that shouldn’t have been directed at him in the first place. This is so interesting! I had no idea there was so much to unpack with you, Syd. Misplaced anger, family dynamics, jealousy—”

  “Whoa, jealousy?” I scowled. “I’m not jealous of Harlan.”

  “Oh honey, of course you are,” she said, her eyes brimming with excitement as she waved her hand to brush away my words. “You were the miracle child, the only one your parents could have, the apple of your father’s eye… until Harlan came along, and you had to share that attention. Here was the son your father had always wanted. Something you could never be. And there had to be some part of you that wondered, once he gave Harlan the job, did he somehow love Harlan more, and—”

  I sucked my teeth. “Okay I don’t like this. What is this, gang up on Sydnee night?”

  “No,” Astrid laughed, sitting down on the steps. “We’re not ganging up on you, we’re trying to help. You’re walking around all tense, stressed out because you have to be around Harlan, when really… you don’t have a reason to be mad at him.”

  “If you’re right.”

  Astrid rolled her eyes. “Yes, if. Here’s a thought – have you ever just asked him if he told your father those things about you feeling unsure about taking on the job?”

  “Why would I, when he could just lie?”

  Quinn pushed out a breath. “O-kay. Umm… so does he even know you think he did that?

  I shrugged. “How would I know? I haven’t really spoken to him since that announcement. I left for New York the next day, and blocked him from contacting me.”

  Astrid dropped her head into her hands. “My goodness, Syd. Do you think you should have been a little more dramatic?”

  “I was angry,” I said, lifting my hands. “I was angry, and hurt, and embarrassed, and… I don’t know.”

  “Heartbroken?” Quinn supplied, putting a hand on my shoulder.

  I thought about it for a second, then nodded, raising my thumbs to dab at my suddenly tear-filled eyes. “Yeah. A little of that too, I think.”

  “Awww, Syd. Don’t start crying,” Astrid said, springing up from her seat on the steps to pull me into a hug.

  I shook my head. “I don’t want to, I just… I don’t know what to think anymore, you know? I spent all this time angry at Harlan, and blaming him because I felt like he’d stolen something from me when really… I don’t know.”

  That was the last thing I said before the sobs came, and Quinn joined in Astrid’s comforting embrace. Eventually, I stopped crying long enough for Quinn and me to get home. I took a long, hot shower, then laid across my bed, my mind running with the events of the day. The more I thought about it, the more clear it became that Harlan wasn’t the one who deserved my anger.

  After I’d burst into tears earlier, Quinn had mumbled to me that it was normal to find a scapegoat when we were angry with someone we didn’t want to be angry with. “I mean… we’re talking about your dad, Syd. Nobody wants to be mad at their father.” Which was true. Even now, when I should be angry, some deep sense of daughterly duty kept my mind from even going there.

  Funny.

  I’d had no problems heaping all of this at Harlan’s feet.

  I rolled over and turned off my lamp, then crawled under my covers and closed my eyes.

  Where might we b
e right now, if my father hadn’t given him that job? What if he had given it to me, or given it to someone else completely? What then? Would we have taken that next step? Would we both have been fired because of it, once Daddy found out? Or would he have embraced the idea, and welcomed the possibility of Harlan really becoming part of the family? Like… a son in law.

  Did I really feel that deeply for him? I mean, how else could I explain being so angry, and so hurt, and holding on to it for so long? Obviously, I knew I liked Harlan. He was handsome, and funny, and smart, but… he was also a great listener, and gave great advice. And he made my heart race… even now. And when I was around him, I always felt warm, and safe, and just… right. So… maybe it was more than just the silly crush I’d convinced myself of to help me get over it. Maybe a lot more.

  Those were the questions that ran through my mind as I tried to sleep. It occurred to me, right before I drifted off, that none of them mattered anymore. What was done, was done. I’d ruined it before we even had a chance.

  Four.

  “Good morning, Harlan.”

  My eyebrows shot up somewhere near my hairline at the sound of Sydnee’s voice offering an unprompted greeting.

  To me.

  I looked up from my place at the desk to find her standing in front of it, looking – if I didn’t know better – nervous. Why she would be nervous, I had no idea.

  She’d been kind of… different the last few days though, really. The first day we’d worked together on this syrup thing, she’d been outright cold. The next day, she was almost cordial. Today, she was actually speaking? Initiating conversation with me? I didn’t know what had changed, but hell… I was with it.

  I reclined in my chair, looking her over. As always, she was looking like a wet dream, in a blue sleeveless blouse unbuttoned just enough to hint at cleavage, and white skinny jeans that fit nicely over her hips and thighs. She looked down, smoothing a hand over the front of her shirt before she lifted her eyes back to mine, confused.