by Liz Durano
“Dax, I’m so sorry. I really am.”
“She died in the hospital. A blood clot made it to her lungs,” he says, his gaze straight ahead, where both sides of the Rio Grande appear to meet in the distance. “That’s when Dad announced that Mama’s wish was not to have a memorial. No gathering, no nothing. It devastated so many people not to be able to come and pay their respects, but Dad wanted to honor her final wishes. She wanted people to think of her like she never left, and she’s right. When you don’t get to say goodbye, somehow, the ones you love are always still around. That’s when I decided to buy property away from everything else and build the Pearl. That’s her name, by the way, Pearl Anaya Drexel.”
“She raised an amazing son,” I say as I fight back the tears of shame. What if I’d ended my life that night in the very place he’d built to honor his mother’s memory? I look up at Dax and study the contours of his face, the gentle slope of his Roman nose and the way his thick dark lashes curl naturally, brightening his blue eyes. His beard reveals a strong jaw and the hint of a cleft chin. I bring one hand to his face and stroke his beard, letting my fingers slide toward his ear to feel the short hairs at the back of his neck.
“What are you looking at?” Dax murmurs as he tears his gaze from the horizon and looks at me. In an hour, it will be dark soon.
“You. I’m looking at you.”
“And what do you see?”
I weave my fingers between his and bring his hand to my lips. Fuck everyone, and whatever they think about him being too young for me. “I see a man, Dax. I see you.”
“Thank you.” Dax smiles and kisses the back of my hand before bringing me into his arms in an embrace. We don’t talk for a few moments. We simply soak up the view before us and even though a few cars rumble through the bridge, the structure vibrating beneath our feet, I don’t feel afraid. I feel safe.
Then he takes a deep breath and blows it out through his lips. “How bad do you want to get pregnant, Harlow?”
I stiffen, although Dax only holds me tighter. I could lie, just like I lied twice to him about being on the pill when I’m not, or I could just tell him the truth. Don’t I owe him that? If I lose him now because of my lies, then it just might be better this way. The sooner we cut the ties that have bound us to this vacation fling, the better it will be for everyone.
“You could say it was all I ever wanted back then,” I say softly.
“Back then? What about now? Do you still want it bad enough to lie to me about being on the pill?” he asks, his voice eerily calm. “I might be wrong about all this—”
“You’re not,” I say, pulling away so I can look up at him. “You’re right; I’m not on the pill and I’m sorry I lied to you. I shouldn’t have, but…”
“But what?” His dark blue eyes seem more intense in the approaching darkness.
“I haven’t been on the pill for a long time, and I can’t get pregnant on my own, not without any help.”
“You could have told me that then instead of lying to me. What if you get pregnant?”
I shake my head. “I can’t, and God knows I tried. The doctors didn’t know why although a few of them suggested that I could also be undergoing early menopause. Premature ovarian failure was how they called it. Just my luck that I put everything else ahead of having children that by the time I wanted one, it was too late.”
“Has it ever occurred to you that Jeff could be the problem?”
“He’s going to be a father to his secretary’s baby, Dax. How can he be the problem?” I snap, pulling away from Dax completely and grip the railing with both hands as I stare at the lone truck halfway down the ridge. I force myself to focus on it, no matter how morbid it seems, the metal now gray from being out in the elements for, who knows, how long. “I’m sorry I lied to you. I really am. But the only reason I ever got pregnant was because of IVF. Four times. Three of those ending in miscarriages, and the fourth…well, Marcus was stillborn. I know it sounds selfish but I only wanted to… I don’t know… feel you. All of you.”
My cheeks color as I say that last part, although it’s true. I wanted all of Dax, everything he could give me. I wanted everything I could take, even for just those few moments we were together before everything came crashing down, like that car on the side of the gorge. It’s selfish, but it’s done. And honestly, what are the chances?
I can feel Dax studying my face, but I can’t look at him, not when I sound like a woman so desperate to have children she’ll say anything—do anything—to have one. And I just did. I have no excuse for what I’ve done, and my silence probably tells Dax just as much.
He rests his hand over mine as I continue to grip the railing. “Why don’t we get you back to the Pearl before it gets too dark?”
Chapter 20
Dax
It takes a few moments for Harlow’s words to sink in, and by the time we’re halfway to the Pearl, I’m so angry I can barely see the road in front of me. Just because she could only get pregnant with the help of IVF, she didn’t feel it was important enough to tell me the truth—that she wasn’t on the pill?
Instead, Harlow stood right in front of me in the living room just after I handed her that damn paper saying I was clean, and lied to me. And because I let my dick call the shots instead of my fucking brain, I fell for it. Not only that, but I fell too hard and too fast for her, and that’s why I’m feeling this way. But is it because of the gun and that note? No, it can’t be because if it were, I wouldn’t be feeling this way. I don’t pity Harlow at all. On the contrary, I admire her for being smart—too smart sometimes—and for her resilience. And as much as I hate how closed in she is, it’s served her well. Yet I can’t deny that she’s also letting me see more of her than she’s probably allowed anyone else to see.
She’s also a terrible liar.
At that last thought, I feel my temper rise again, and I take a deep breath, hoping I can rein it in. But as I park the truck in front of the Pearl, I know I can’t. God help me, but I can’t. I hate feeling like I’ve just been taken for a fool, and it’s only because I like her too fucking much for my own good.
You love too much, mijo.
I switch off the engine, and for a few moments, we sit in silence. She’s been watching me the whole time, not speaking, and I’m glad she hasn’t said a word or I’d have blown up inside the damn cab. It’s been awhile since I’ve felt this way, not when the last time I let my anger get the best of me, I almost killed a man. I sure as heck am not about to kill anyone, but I’m too close to the situation to be rational right now. Everything about me right now is all emotion. I’ve been on such a high the past few days that I can’t think straight.
I need to walk away the same way I’ve done the last two times someone I cared so much for lied to me. I need to disengage. I get out and walk to her side to open the door. I can’t look Harlow in the face. Not when I’ll lose myself in her eyes, and so I let my gaze drift lower.
She’s just Goldilocks with great tits, man, and a tight pussy to boot, I tell myself. You’ll get over her in a heartbeat, just like you got over Claudia.
We walk to the Pearl in silence, the space between us growing ever wider with each step I take. If she can lie as easily as she did about being on the pill, what about everything else?
Just end it now and be done with it, dude. Ask her.
Harlow unlocks the front door and steps inside before turning to face me as she holds the door open. “Would you like to come in for a while?”
“Not really.”
“Oh, okay.” She swallows, glancing down at the floor before looking back at me. “Thank you for taking me to the barbecue, Dax. It was really nice to meet Gabe—”
“When were you going to tell me about the night you planned to kill yourself in my house?”
All color fades from Harlow’s face. I hate that I’ve just implicated myself for being on the property that night, but I’m too angry to think straight. Talking about my mother brought everything
back; the joy of the life she devoted to her children, followed by the pain of watching her die in front of my eyes that the only way I could deal with the loss was to build the Pearl with my bare hands. How dare some big shot New York doctor come in here then, and taint my labor of love with her petty problems? Who does Harlow James think she is?
Harlow doesn’t answer my question, not when she’s staring at me with her big doe eyes in shock, her mouth hanging open. I feel a hole tear open inside my chest, like some damn alien burrowing its way inside me before it snakes its way right in the solar plexus. I hate myself for feeling this way, but I focus, telling myself that she fucking lied to me. She used me.
“What if you did kill yourself that night, Harlow? Were you expecting Nana to find your body and clean up after you? Me? Because in case you haven’t noticed, I don’t hire a cleaning crew to take care of this place. It’s all family. My family.”
“No! I… I was going to do it outside—” Suddenly, she gasps and covers her mouth with her hand, the realization of what she just said probably hitting her then.
I stare at her, speechless. If knowing she’d lied to me about being on the pill was bad enough, this was worse.
“Dax, I’m so sorry—”
“You bet your ass you’re sorry,” I say, knowing I’m about to lose it any second. As much as I hate knowing that it’s true—Harlow did plan on killing herself that night—I never wanted to hear her actually say it. It’s wishful thinking. It’s why I never asked her about the gun in the first place. I wanted to keep that perfect image of Harlow James sacred inside my head—the surgeon who operated on kids, the woman who made me melt inside with a glance, the very same woman who told me she’d only been with one other man before me, and I believed her. But she’s also the same woman who is slowly killing me with her lies. “Whether you did it here or outside doesn’t change the fact that you thought of killing yourself on my property. If you really wanted to spite your fucking husband, then do whatever you need to do in the Hamptons, not here. I’m sure he can easily hire a crew to clean up after your mess and still have his damn wedding.”
“Dax!” Harlow’s eyes brim with tears, but I force my gaze lower. Her tits. Look at her fucking tits.
“What about me? Did it even occur to you to ask me what I thought about the possibility of being a father? Am I just another sperm donor to you, at your service, anytime you want? Is that why it bothers you that I’m much younger than you because you don’t believe I can think for myself? That I have a fucking brain?”
“That’s not true! I care about you, Dax. I’ve—”
“You care about me? You care enough about me to fuck me but not trust me with the truth? Is that it? Because that’s the way it looks like right now.”
“I didn’t say that—”
“You’re right; you didn’t say it. But the things you don’t say speak louder than the things you do, Goldie, and right now, I’ve heard enough,” I say, knowing I need to step away before I punch the glass door and cut my fucking hand.
“Dax, please, let’s talk.”
“No, we’ve got nothing to talk about, but you do. Just not with me,” I say, turning to face her one last time. “Get help, Harlow. Whatever you do, just get help. Please.”
I don’t look back, not even when I feel Harlow’s hand grasp mine. I shake it off angrily, and I’m grateful she doesn’t push her luck. Thank God, Goldilocks knows when she’s no longer wanted, and right now, I want nothing to do with her.
But as I drive away from her and the Pearl, not caring if I’m spraying rocks far and wide behind me, I wonder why there’s a pain gnawing deep inside my chest. Why does it feel like I’ve turned my back on a lifetime that could have been?
*
I don’t go straight home. The lights are on at the Villier brothers’ Earthship, and that’s where I go instead. I could call Gabe but I don’t want any conversation to veer towards Harlow or hints of her. Right now, I want to start letting go, and if it means hanging out with the Villier brothers talking shit about video games or their latest adventures in beer-making, then that’s fine with me.
As I drive up, Todd comes out to meet me, holding an opened can of beer. Through the windows, I see his brother, Sawyer, sitting in front of the TV playing a video game, a thick beard covering the lower half of his face. Though the brothers are pretty popular around town with the ladies, Todd is the outgoing one while Sawyer is the brooding one. Sawyer gives the impression of someone who doesn’t give a shit about anything, but after Mama died, I got to see firsthand just how much the guy does care, and I owe the guy my life.
“Hey, hey, hey, Big D, how ya doing?” Todd exclaims, grasping my hand tightly through the open window. “You been MIA, my man!”
“What are you bitching about? I’m here,” I reply, forcing a grin as I get out of the truck. “You still have that thing I had you keep for me?”
Todd’s face darkens, but he nods and beckons for me to follow him inside. It’s something I dropped off after I arrived back in Taos, just after I first saw Harlow asleep on my bed. I hate just how quickly I excused everything—most of all that damn gun—hoping she’d finally say something about it until I couldn’t stand it anymore.
As Todd and I stride through the living room, Sawyer looks up from his game to nod at me before killing off some bad guys with a big-ass gun on the flat screen TV. The brothers share a three-bedroom Earthship that’s just like the Pearl, only more organic-looking, with its use of sloping lines and sculptural accents. Like the Pearl, it comes with a water reservoir, control room for all the solar panels and water filtration unit, and an indoor garden. My garden looks like a damn forest compared to theirs, but they make the best of what they have, with vegetables they rotate each year and fruit trees, avocado and lime. There’s even a banana tree and a macadamia nut bush somewhere, the seeds smuggled from Hawaii and carefully nurtured for the past five years, maybe longer.
“See anything good lately?” I ask, cocking my head towards the telescope by the window as Todd and I stand in front one of his bookshelves. He runs his index finger along their spines until he stops in front of one that says Dracula and pulls it out. It’s a hardbound book that he’s converted into one of those hideaway safes to hide keys and other valuables by hollowing out the pages. He generally hides his medicinal pot in there, but not this time.
“Nah, it’s just some woman… and some guy who can’t get his hands off her. Oh wait, that’s you.”
I glare at him. “Shut up and stop being such peeping Toms, you two.”
“Hey! Who you calling a peeping Tom?” Sawyer grumbles, his attention still on the TV screen as I dip my hands into the niche inside the book. “You know I look at the stars, Dax. It’s Todd you need to worry about.”
“So you want them back?” Todd asks as I hold a bullet still in its casing between my thumb and index finger. “Because we sure could use them for shooting practice. Still want these babies back?”
“No, but if you want them, great. If not, I’ll let Neil have them.” Neil is the cop friend from Albuquerque. Of course, if I handed these to him, he’s bound to ask me more questions like where’s the fucking gun, man?
“One bullet is all it takes, you know,” Todd says, taking the bullet from my fingers. “A .22 just rattles inside your skull and turns your brain into mush. But no, this one just blows everything up inside—”
“That’s not funny, man,” Sawyer says angrily, his focus still on the game although it’s obvious he’s also listening in on my conversation with his brother.
Sawyer served in Afghanistan and after being one of two members of his squad to survive, he decided to live out here, away from everyone. Nana found him digging in the trash behind the house one day, and she asked him inside for a meal. That’s how I first got to know Sawyer, sitting at my table looking like a mountain man and enjoying Nana’s cooking. Sawyer joined the team at the Earthship community shortly after, helping build the structures by hand while learni
ng all he could by taking every class they offered. Todd left his job as a TV writer in Hollywood to live out here with his brother. He still writes and even self-publishes his books, but he lives out here to make sure Sawyer doesn’t do anything stupid. Not that Sawyer would. He actually works for a private security firm, and some weeks he’s out of town protecting some rock star or rich kid though he never talks about it.
Todd shrugs, returning the bullet into the niche and closing the book. “Hey, you’re the one who brought them in, alright? And I trust you when you say you haven’t shot anything—or anyone with whatever gun this came from. Besides, you’re more a lover than a fighter, my man—“
“Shut up.”
“So where’d you get them?”
I don’t have an answer to his question, not right away. I didn’t just trespass private property the night I walked in on Harlow as she lay passed out on my bed, hours after she considered ending her life. I committed theft, too. But there was no way I was leaving a loaded gun inside the Pearl with a suicidal woman, not after I read that damn note. The fact that she hasn’t said anything tells me she either doesn’t know that her gun is empty, or she doesn’t remember removing the bullets herself; I have no idea. I just hope she doesn’t have extra bullets hanging around somewhere.
“Does it matter where I got them?” I mutter.
Todd thinks about it for a few seconds before shaking his head. “Nah, it doesn’t matter one bit. As a matter of fact, I don’t want to know what gun it came from, and from whom, man.”
“No, you don’t.”
“I figured.” He grins, slipping the hollowed-out book back into the shelf and cocking his head towards the living room. “So, you wanna beer? I got a few macadamia nuts, too, and they come straight from the plant itself. Turns out, they fall to the ground, and that’s how you harvest them.”