Where We Belong

by Shann McPherson

  A whimper falls from his lips as he presses his lips to my neck, stifling his sounds as he reaches his high, and this time, I hold him as tight as I can until we both collapse together, exhausted, breathless, sweaty and obliterated.

  I finally collect myself as best as I can, coming back down to earth, and I turn my head, meeting Harley’s heavily hooded eyes watching me, a sleepy smile pulling at his lips. He reaches out a trembling hand, tucking my hair behind my ear before gently sweeping the backs of his fingers over my flushed cheek, stopping at my lips. Tracing the curve of my Cupid’s bow with the pad of his thumb, he smiles again, moving in closer to press a chaste kiss to the very corner of my mouth. Pulling me into his strong arms, he kisses me again, claiming me as if I am his.

  In that moment, as I begin to drift off into a contented, blissful slumber, I know, after this, nothing between us will ever be the same.

  Chapter 27

  It’s later in the morning when I wake again. The sunlight pours in through the open shutters, and I can hear the sound of seagulls squawking outside. Stretching languorously, I can’t even begin to wipe the smug smile from my face as memories of what I’d spent most of last night and much of this morning doing with Harley play through my mind. We had sex. I, Alice Murphy, slept with Harley Shaw. Not once, but two times. And, if I’m being honest, I could probably do it over and over again. At that thought, I roll over and open my sleepy eyes, but confusion floods through me when I realize I’m all alone in the bed. I reach out and feel the space on the mattress beside me, finding the sheets cool to the touch and, for a moment, I wonder if it had all been a dream.

  Sitting upright, my eyes squint involuntarily against the bright light of the sun shining in through the wall of windows as I search the room to find nothing. His overnight bag that was on the footrest by the armchair is gone. His boots that had been kicked off and were sitting haphazardly by the door are gone. His watch and wallet that were on the dresser are gone. In fact, the only memory of him is what’s left of his scent lingering on the pillows, and the unmistakable residual feel of his lips on my skin.

  “Where the hell did he go?” I ask the silence surrounding me.

  Maybe he just got an early start on packing. Maybe he’s cleaning up downstairs. Maybe he’s cooking breakfast. I try so hard to reason with myself, but it’s pointless because the self-doubt at the back of my mind causes my subconscious to rear her ugly head, and I know straight away he’s gone.

  It was all a joke, the mean girl in my mind taunts me. You’re a joke.

  Am I just another notch for him to carve into his bedpost? Another name to add to his little black book of bangs? I continue sitting there, looking at the space beside me in bed, the space he’d lain all night holding me in his strong arms, and I release a long sigh of resignation. I thought I’d felt something so real with him last night, but he’s gone and left me here all alone. Harley regrets what we did, and I can’t blame him. I knew he would. Hell, I thought I would regret it, but that’s the problem, I don’t. For some reason what we did means more to me than it should and, at that thought, my heart sinks low into the depths of my belly. If only I could regret last night, at least then maybe this wouldn’t hurt so much.

  After a painfully hot shower, I delay going downstairs for as long as I can. I pack and repack my bag a few times, carefully folding each item of clothing as if I work at The Gap. I strip the bed sheets. I even wipe down the bathroom vanity, and clean the mirror. But, I know it’s inevitable and I can’t stay up here forever. I have to face Harley sooner or later; hell, we’re going home today and I’m going to be forced to sit with him in his truck for three hours.

  “Murph!” I startle, looking up from my bag at the sound of my name being called from downstairs. “Breakfast is ready!”

  With a fortifying breath, I collect my things and head out of the bedroom, albeit reluctantly.

  Downstairs, the house is a flurry of excitement. Music is playing loudly, voices resonate throughout the open space, and the smell of bacon lingers low in the air causing my stomach to growl. I continue out onto the patio where everyone is sitting, but when I spot Harley sitting at the far end of the table, I come to an abrupt stop, my feet suddenly unable to move as I linger awkwardly in the doorway.

  “Murph!” everyone cheers from around the table as they all look up at me. Well, everyone except Harley.

  I try to smile and join in on their apparent excitement, but I can’t stop my eyes from flashing in his direction, finding him with his cap pulled down low and a pair of sunglasses shielding his eyes. I swallow the painful lump of humiliation at the back of my throat and step out into the sun, taking a seat next to Kevin, as far away from Harley as I can possibly get.

  “How was the strip club?” I ask, looking around at everyone, careful to avoid Harley’s end of the table.

  “Seth got us kicked out!” Kevin laughs loudly, his head thrown back in utter delight.

  “Wait, what? Why? How?” I shake my head in confusion, laughing as I look across to Seth whose head is bowed sheepishly. He’s normally the quiet, responsible one, especially compared to Kevin, and I can’t help but laugh.

  “You know when you’re at a strip club, and a girl’s shakin’ her ass on stage, so you throw a few dollar bills on the stage?”

  I nod, piling scrambled eggs I know I won’t be able to eat onto my plate.

  “Well, this idiot didn’t have any dollar bills left,” Kevin continues, nodding across the table at Seth. “So, he throws a fist full of damn coins onto the stage. One of the girls slipped on a stray quarter and almost broke her damn neck!”

  My mouth falls open as I gape at Seth.

  “I was drunk!” He holds his hands up in defense, staring down at his plate of untouched bacon.

  I chuckle, shaking my head at the both of them, but then as I look at all the other guys around the table, my traitorous eyes land on Harley again, only this time he’s looking up. I can’t tell if he’s focused on me or not because his sunglasses are so darkly tinted, but I quickly avert my eyes not wanting to give myself away. He doesn’t deserve to know how much he hurt me this morning. I’ll take the pain of that humiliation with me to the grave.

  “Hey, where’s Nash?” I ask, looking around, suddenly realizing he isn’t out here.

  Everyone falls silent, looking awkwardly at one another, and I know something’s up.

  “Beach.” Jake nods his head in the direction of the ocean.

  At that, my brow furrows in confusion as I narrow my eyes to see through the glare, finding a lone figure sitting on the white sand staring out at the water, his shoulders slumped as if he has the weight of the world resting upon them.

  “What’s he doing out there?”

  “I don’t know,” Kevin says with a mouthful of food. “He’s been a pissy little bitch all morning. Especially after he and Har—”

  “Kevin!” Harley suddenly pipes up, his booming voice echoing throughout the morning, causing everything to stop.

  I gape at him but he doesn’t say anything as he stands up from his chair, storming into the house. I look at the rest of the guys, seeking some semblance of an answer as to what the heck is even going on. But I get nothing more than a few awkward glances and a shrug from Seth before the guys begin talking more about last night, laughing and joking among themselves over something stupid one of them did, but I’m no longer listening. I try to eat my breakfast, at least what I can stomach of it, but my mind is elsewhere. I’m worried about Nash, and Harley, and I can’t stop thinking about what I was stupid enough to do last night with Harley, only for him to leave me in the morning like some kind of sleazy one-night stand.

  And, at that thought, my mind wanders back to my ex-boyfriend, the once love of my life, and I begin to think how he would never walk out on a girl the morning after a night like the one I had shared with Harley last night. I silently chastise myself at those thoughts, shaking my head to dismiss them.

  ***

  Afte
r breakfast, which was really just me pretending to eat bacon while trying to laugh along with the guys, avoiding Harley’s end of the table at all costs, I head down to the beach. Treading the hot sand, wincing as my feet burn, I stop just shy of Nash, looking down at him as he continues staring out at the waves.

  “Hey.”

  He doesn’t acknowledge me, but I take a seat beside him anyway, offering a sideways glance before looking out over the sparkling blue water.

  “Is everything okay?”

  Again, silence. I turn to him with a furrowed brow, shielding my eyes from the sun overhead, finding his face hard yet emotionless, and my confusion only grows. What the hell is up with him? I try not to roll my eyes at his mood.

  “Hangover, or is it something more?” I press, nudging him playfully with my shoulder, and at that, I receive something similar to a scoff, and I expect him to be smiling, but instead he looks annoyed. I continue, despite his obvious attitude. “I know it’s something,” I begin. “You know you can talk to me.”

  “I’m fine!” He looks at me this time, but his eyes contain something I hadn’t been expecting. He’s pissed. With me.

  “Nash, what’s wrong?” I gape at him. “What did I do?”

  He shakes his head, avoiding my eyes as he moves to get up. “Nothing, Murph,” he grunts, brushing sand from the back of his shorts, which catches in the breeze and blows right into my face. “You and me, we’re just fine.” And, with that, he turns and leaves.

  Bewildered, I watch him stalk back up the beach toward the house as I wipe the sand from my eyes, and a million confusing thoughts worry my mind. He’s angry with me. Me. What the hell did I do? Maybe he’s upset because I took him home early last night. Maybe I said something to him in my drunken state that I can’t remember. In our fifteen years of friendship, I can’t actually ever remember a time when Nash has been angry with me. Sure, we’ve had fights and arguments, but they were silly and quickly forgotten. Hell, even after we broke up he called me the next day to tell me about something hilarious that had happened to him on the subway.

  I feel sick to my stomach. Pulling my knees up to my chest I press my lips together as I stare out over the water, and what was beautiful only moments ago now seems wild and dangerous, and threatening. The longer I watch the violent waves crashing to the shore, the more my heart sinks. I’ve never felt more alone. I just want to go home and pretend as if this stupid trip never happened.

  I meet the guys back up at the house after collecting my emotions, but when I find my overnight bag dumped on the floor by the front door with the others, I can’t help but notice Harley’s absence.

  “Where’s Harley?” I ask Seth.

  He turns to me with a confused look. “He left …”

  He what? I feel my face fall and I assume he notices.

  “Something about stopping in Atlanta for something for the bar …” He quirks a dubious brow, looking closer. “Y-you didn’t know?”

  I swallow the lump at the back of my throat, feeling tears prick my eyes. He left without me. He couldn’t even stand the drive back to Graceville with me in his truck. I want to cry but, instead, I manage somehow to force a smile onto my face, nodding quickly. “Oh, yeah.” I shrug. “I forgot all about that,” I lie as convincingly as I can manage.

  “You’re riding with me in the Ferrari, Murph.” Kevin walks up behind me and I turn to see him twirling his keys around his finger, giving me a cocky grin.

  “You mean your beat-up old Dodge?” I scoff.

  He chuckles and rolls his eyes at my correction before reaching down and picking up my bag. Although I can manage it myself, I don’t bother stopping him. Instead, I follow him and Seth outside onto the front porch just in time to see Nash getting into his rental car without so much as a goodbye, and that only adds to the pain and suffering of the war of emotions stirring deep down inside of me.

  “Shotgun!” Seth yells running down the steps toward Kevin’s truck.

  And all I can do is sigh at the thought of being stuck between the two of them the whole drive back home, while my mind is consumed by a million and one regrets.

  Chapter 28

  “Wow, that looks so good, Murph!” Sarah gushes from where she’s sitting on the countertop, licking what’s left of the frosting from a big metal bowl.

  “Thanks,” I say through a stifled yawn. My eyelids droop, my eyes burn, and my back is killing me, and it feels as if I haven’t slept in five excruciatingly long years as I stare at the finished product that is Nash and Anna’s wedding cake.

  After enduring three hours of torture, wedged between Seth and Kevin while listening to Eminem’s entire discography on the drive home from Myrtle Beach, I knew I wouldn’t be able to wind down when they dropped me off at home. My mind was completely shot with emotion, and rampant thoughts raced through it, taunting me. All I could think about was how Harley just left me in South Carolina without so much as a second thought. But, at the same time, I racked my brain over why Nash was angry with me, as if I was the bad guy. The whole thing was doing my head in. When I got dropped off at home, the house just seemed even more empty than usual because at a time like this, all I want is my momma.

  So, I left my bag by the front door, turned around, and came straight to the store, which is where I’ve been for hours working on the cake, which isn’t what I’d originally planned.

  Black buttercream with a light smattering of gold leaf haphazardly sponged into the sides. I decided to leave it simple without any unnecessary accents, just some simple white orchids strategically placed throughout, with a few sparkly gems hidden within the petals.

  “Do you think it needs more rhinestones?” I ask Sarah while slowly assessing and silently critiquing every part of the cake.

  “Nope.” Sarah jumps down from the countertop, placing the dirty bowl into the sink before coming to stand beside me. “I think it looks perfect. You don’t want to go over the top. This ain’t no New York City.” She laughs to herself.

  She’s right. I don’t want it to look gaudy. It’s perfect as it is. The longer I stare at it, the more I truly believe it may be my greatest work of art. I take my cell phone from my purse, and begin to snap some photos for my cake-dedicated social media account, but I stop when I can feel a heavy gaze set upon me, and I glance over my shoulder to see Sarah watching me.

  “What?”

  “Are you sure you’re okay with all this?” she asks, waving a hand in the direction of the three-tier masterpiece in the center of the room.

  “What?” My brows knit together in confusion. “The cake?”

  “No!” She rolls her eyes indulgently, shaking her head at me with a wry smile. “With the whole wedding thing. I mean, you and Nash …” She scoffs once. “If I recall correctly from Seth’s yearbook …” She pauses, glancing up toward the ceiling pensively. “I believe you two were voted most sickeningly in love couple of your class. Kids in my year still refer to you guys as ‘couple goals’,” she scoffs, air-quoting with her fingers. “And now you’re forced to make the damn cake for his wedding to some other woman!”

  “Oh, pfft.” I laugh, brushing off her concern with a wave of my hand. “I’m fine.” And at that, I stop at my own words. I’m fine. A small smile plays on my lips, because I realize for the first time since Friday when Nash arrived unexpectedly to tell me he was getting married, I actually am fine. He’s marrying another woman, and I’m fine with that. But he’s mad at me, and I’m not fine with that. I don’t know what I’ve done to make him mad, and almost immediately my smile falls.

  “Huh,” Sarah muses from beside me, pulling me from my thoughts and I cast her a slightly annoyed glance, quirking an eyebrow, knowing she has something she feels she needs to say. “So, it’s Harley?”

  “What’s Harley?” I shake my head at her cryptic words strung together in half-assed sentences I can’t understand. “What are you even talking about?”

  “He’s the reason you’ve spent the entire day looking like
someone told you the Easter Bunny, Tooth Fairy and Santa Claus ain’t real.”

  “What? No, I haven’t!” I laugh indignantly, gaping at her, but I quickly look away, because I know she’s right.

  “What did he do?” she asks, and I can feel her eyes on me.

  I desperately want to tell her. I need someone to confide in. But that would mean confessing my shameful and embarrassing secret, and of all the people I could possibly tell, Sarah is the last person I could ever trust. She’s an 18-year-old gossip queen. I know at least half the entire town would know my lie within a few hours.

  “What are you even still doing here?” I shake my head at her, deflecting the obvious. “Your shift finished hours ago. Don’t you have homework to do? Or someone else to annoy? Seth’s home. Why don’t you go hang out with him?”

  “I’m waiting for Tyler to pick me up!” she answers matter-of-factly, and I roll my eyes at her as she continues smiling self-righteously, but before I can tell her to stop, we’re both startled by an unexpected knock coming from the glass door at the front of the store. It’s past seven. We closed two hours ago. My curiosity piques as I walk through the shop, but I stop suddenly, and my heart stammers heavily in my chest when I make out Harley standing at the door, looking in at me through the glass.

  The stubborn part of me wants to ignore him, leave him standing out there on the sidewalk like he left me at Myrtle Beach. But I don’t do that, because I’m a sucker for punishment and I really want to hear whatever sorry excuse he has for leaving me in another state.

  I unlock the door but I don’t open it; he can open the damn thing himself. Turning, I take a few steps as far away as I can get before turning when I hear the door click closed. And, with my arms defiantly crossed over my chest as if to shield myself from any further pain I know he is capable of inflicting, I cock one brow, watching him, waiting for him to speak. But before he gets the chance, we’re interrupted by Sarah walking through the store, awkwardly glancing between the two of us.