Where We Belong

by Shann McPherson

  “I-I um …” He huffs out a frustrated breath. “I wanted to come by and tell you that I—” He pauses again, considering, and the anticipation of his words is positively killing me. I want to scream at him to just spit it out, or at least kiss me. But I don’t. I just watch him, waiting.

  After a few cleansing breaths, he meets my eyes with a small smile. “I wanted to tell you, I—” Stopping mid-sentence, his whole energy shifts so suddenly, and I watch as his gaze moves over my left shoulder, his smile falling, replaced by a deep crease pulling between his brows.

  “What’d you say, Murph?”

  I freeze, my heart flying up into the back of my throat at the sound of the voice coming from behind me.

  Oh no.

  Turning slowly, I watch as Nash staggers unsteadily down the stairs from the direction of my bedroom and, as if that’s not bad enough, he finishes pulling that damn T-shirt down over his naked torso, the state of his ruffled hair only adding to the already compromising situation.

  “Harley?” He stops halfway down the stairs, gripping the bannister as his wide eyes move from Harley, to me, and back again, the whole while my mind is racing a million miles a minute as to how to explain.

  I turn back to Harley, my face stark like a deer caught in headlights despite trying my most nonchalant smile, but I’m met with a hardness in his eyes that cuts straight through me.

  “Well …” He balks in disgust, looking me up and down before meeting my eyes and continuing with such vitriol it just about slices me in half, “Looks like you got what you wanted after all.”

  And, with one last feeling look between Nash and I, he turns to leave, and my heart thunders in my chest as I stand there shocked and frozen, watching him stalk back toward to his truck parked at the curb and out of my life without so much as a second glance over his shoulder.

  Chapter 30

  Somehow, I manage to come to my senses before Harley reaches his Ford. And, snapping out of the shock-induced daze, I curse under my breath before running down the porch steps and chasing after him.

  “Harley!”

  He stops and turns. I can tell he’s trying to act unaffected, trying his best at a bored, uninterested glance. But the hard crease furrowed into his brow is giving him away. I know he’s pissed. And I know he cares, I can see it the way his jaw ticks. “What?” he hisses between gritted teeth, folding his arms across his chest.

  I consider my words, glancing back toward the house. But when I find Nash standing in the open doorway, I shake my head at the situation. Of course it looks bad. I can’t blame Harley for thinking what he’s thinking. “Nothing happened, I swear. It’s not what it looks like!”

  He quirks a disbelieving brow at me but says nothing, and I smooth my hair back from my flustered face, stammering for the words I need. “He was here waiting for me when I got home.” I shrug. “He was drunk, and confused. I just talked to him.” I shake my head again, imploring his eyes with my own in the hope of seeing some semblance of understanding. But his eyes are empty. “We just talked. That’s it.”

  “Talked?” He laughs a derisive laugh void of any humor. “Up in your bedroom? Half-naked?”

  I shake my head vehemently. “No! I accidentally spilled liquor all over him.” I purposely leave out the bit about Nash telling me he wants me back. “He was just cleaning up in the bathroom before ordering an Uber. And I had one of his old T-shirts up in my room.” To be fair, it actually sounds worse coming out of my mouth, and I just wish I could shut the hell up.

  Harley continues watching me for a long moment without saying a word. “That’s all. I swear.” I stare into his eyes, not once breaking the penetrating hold he has on me. For some reason, this feels like the make-or-break moment that I could potentially lose him forever, and I feel sick to my stomach.

  “Harley, it isn’t what it looks like, man!” At the sound of Nash’s voice ringing through the silence of the night, I close my eyes in a combination of frustration and fear, wishing he’d just shut the hell up. But, of course not. He proceeds to make his way across the yard to join us, and I finally open my eyes to see him standing next to me in that damn T-shirt I once slept in for three weeks straight without washing it because it smelled like him.

  “You two need to sort your damn shit out,” Nash continues, looking between the both of us. “As much as it pains me to say …” He laughs once under his breath before continuing with all sincerity, “Y’all are perfect for one another.” He turns, looking up at Harley. “Forget about what I said this morning. I was confused and hungover. I didn’t mean what I said.”

  Harley flashes me a look I can’t read, but before I can think too much into it, Nash continues. “I told her about the fight,” he says. “I won’t let y’all break up just because I’m a dickhead.”

  But something in Nash’s words seems to cause Harley to stiffen, his broad shoulders tensing obviously as his stubbled jaw clenches, and my brow furrows in confusion as I witness a darkness cloud over his eyes, and it suddenly dawns on me.

  No. Please, Harley. Please don’t.

  “It was all a lie,” he finally murmurs, his raspy voice almost lost within the breeze rustling through the leaves of the elm tree hanging above us, and my stomach drops as I watch him, as his dark eyes intently focus on me.

  “Huh?” Nash asks, sufficiently confused. “What was all a lie?”

  After a few intense moments of silence, Harley tears his gaze from me, looking down at Nash in anger. “This whole damn thing was a lie!” He laughs another humorless laugh. “Me and her,” he says, nodding his head in my direction and referring to me as if I’m a piece of shit, which actually hurts more than I ever could have imagined. “We’re not together. We never were.”

  A lump of dread balls in the back of my throat, and I stare down at the grass because I can’t bear to see the look on Nash’s face when he learns of my vindictive scheme.

  “She made it all up because … Hell, I don’t even know why. She wanted to make you jealous? She didn’t want you to think she’d been sitting around all this time waiting on you to come running back to her? She didn’t want you to be happy with anyone but her? Who fuckin’ knows!”

  Tears sting my eyes as I slowly lift my head, but when I find Nash looking at me with eyes full of confusion and an obvious hint of betrayal, Harley with the ghost of an ‘I told you so’ smirk pulling at his lips, all I wish is that I could go back to the beginning of the week and change everything.

  “Murph?” Nash finally speaks, his voice so quiet. “Is that true?”

  All I can do is nod because it is true. All of it. And, while we’re talking of the truth … “And, I laced the wedding cake samples with laxative hoping Anna would eat them and get so sick she couldn’t make dinner, because I wanted you all to myself that night.”

  Nash’s eyes bulge.

  Harley’s jaw drops in realization.

  But I ignore them both as I continue with a quiet, croaky voice full of emotion, “And I’m pretty sure I elbowed her in the face on purpose when we were playing flag football on Sunday.” Both of them are gaping at me, clearly shocked by my confession, but I don’t stop there. “I made it all up—Harley and me—because I wanted you back,” I say, looking at Nash before turning and meeting Harley’s steely glare. “And it was all a lie.” Harley blinks hard, looking away. “Until Wednesday night when I realized that I—” I snap my mouth shut, contemplating my words when the reality of what I’m about to say crashes over me in a wave.

  Harley snaps his head back, meeting my eyes again, both of them watching me but neither saying a word as they stare at me with stark faces. I glance down at my hands a moment, taking a few deep breaths. I know I need to be truthful, but the doubt is seriously starting to get the better of me. But, again, this is that moment. It’s now or never. So, I lift my head, meeting Harley’s eyes. “It was all a lie until Wednesday night when I realized something.” I pause to swallow my nerves, exhaling a trembling breath full of self-doub
t before continuing, “I’m actually in love with Harley. And I have been for a long time.”

  Silence ensues as my heart sways unsteadily from side to side in my chest, like a pendulum, literally hanging in the balance as I watch Harley, waiting for a response, or at least some kind of reaction. But he remains indifferent, not giving anything away, just staring at me, breathing hard.

  “So, you both lied to me?” Nash breaks the silence, his eyes moving between Harley and me, flashing with an anger I naively hadn’t been expecting. Of course he’s angry. He has every damn right to be.

  “I’m sorry, Nash. I—” I try, but he cuts me off.

  “You mean to tell me,” he yells, glaring at me while thumbing back toward the house, “you just let me say what I fuckin’ said to you … You let me feel what I felt all week … You let me doubt my entire relationship with the woman I’m about to marry, and this whole time it was all a damn lie?”

  I avert my eyes because the betrayal in his is far too painful to withstand. Swallowing the lump at the back of my throat, I nod once, looking down to the ground.

  He scoffs to himself. “I don’t even know you no more, Murph.” At those cutting words, I look up, finding him shaking his head at me before turning to Harley and pointing a finger in his best friend’s chest. “And you? You let a lie come between us?”

  Harley exhales a hard breath, tearing his gaze from me, looking at Nash with a hard stare, not saying a word, his jaw clenching so tight.

  “I can’t believe you two!” Nash yells, looking at us both in exasperation before turning and storming toward the road.

  “Nash, stop!” I yell pleadingly, taking a step toward him. “Where are you going?”

  “I can’t even stand to look at either of y’all!” he yells over his shoulder.

  “Nash, man, wait,” Harley yells. “I’ll drive you back to Harrington’s.”

  “I’d rather fuckin’ walk!” he shoots back, his hoarse voice echoing throughout the quiet street.

  Harley and I remain frozen on the front lawn, watching as Nash walks off into the darkness, his shadowy figure eventually disappearing around the corner and into the night. The air between us suddenly turns thick and palpable with an overwhelming tension, and as I turn to look at him I’m surprised to see he’s already watching me with an unexpected and confusing emotion in his eyes. He lifts a hand, scratching the stubble shadowed over his jaw before pulling his bottom lip between his thumb and forefinger, staring at me the whole time in a look of deep deliberation.

  Taking a step forward, I wring my hands together, at a loss of what to say or do, but I know I need to say something. “Harley, I—”

  “Don’t.” He stops me, holding a hand up to silence my stammered words. “Just don’t, Murph. You’ve done enough.”

  Just when I think he’s going to continue, going to tell me whatever is on his mind, he doesn’t say anything at all. Instead, he simply shakes his head before turning and walking toward his truck. And I’m stuck in one place, unable to move as my emotions get the better of me. The roaring engine of his truck comes to life, echoing throughout the silence, causing me to jump. And, as a solitary tear slides down over my heated cheek, I watch as he pulls away from the curb, the rumbling of the V8 fading to nothing as he drives farther and farther away.

  And, all alone right there on the front lawn, in the silence of the night, I come to a realization, one I wish I’d figured out a long, long time ago: Nash was never the one that got away because he was never the one. It’s been Harley all along, and I think I might have just lost him.

  Chapter 31

  I took the cake to the country club early. So early, in fact, the sun hadn’t even finished rising for the day. I didn’t want to risk seeing anyone. Maybe I was being a coward, but I couldn’t bear to show my face. Not after last night. And I’m so glad I succeeded in avoiding everyone, especially after the text message I received from Nash when I’d returned to the store.

  Nash: Don’t bother coming to my wedding.

  I stared at the words on the illuminated screen for so long my eyes began to burn, blurring from the unshed tears pooling within them. But, I must say it didn’t surprise me to receive such a message. I admitted to trying to poison his fiancée. I admitted to intentionally giving her a black eye. I admitted every last shameful detail of what I’ve done over the last week. He’s right to not want me around. But that doesn’t mean it hurts any less.

  So, while I otherwise would’ve been arguing with my own reflection and doubting every single dress I owned, instead, I’m enjoying my second glass of Tito’s and cranberry before noon while sitting on the island counter at the back of the bakery, all alone, staring at the wall straight ahead while trying so hard to push my own self-loathing thoughts to the back of my mind. Trying so hard to dispel my own shame with another sip of vodka. But it’s no use. All I keep thinking of is all the bad I’ve done.

  Don’t bother coming to my wedding.

  I shake my head as Nash’s words flash in my mind. I finish what’s left of my cocktail, hoping somehow the alcohol will help to ease my self-inflicted pain. But it doesn’t. Sure, it numbs it a little, but the pain and the shame is still there, taunting me.

  I’ve really managed to screw everything up. Royally. I should get a damn award.

  I’d like to thank the friends I’ve lost because I’m an asshole, and my family who are either dead, or dead to me … I cringe at my makeshift acceptance speech while I top up my glass, but I’m stopped—rendered frozen—by the sound of the door to the store opening and closing.

  “We’re closed!” I yell, wondering how whoever it is managed to miss the glaringly obvious sign stuck to the window of the shop. But then an unexpected face appears in the cut-out wall, and my eyes widen, my heart coming to stop hard in my chest. “Anna?”

  She continues through to the back, coming into the kitchen with an exasperated and dramatic sigh. Dressed in matching sweats that would look shocking on anyone other than her, her blonde hair in rollers, her beautiful face immaculately made-up complete with delicately winged liner and a crimson red lip, she takes a long look at me, folding her arms over her chest.

  I push myself off the countertop, gaping at her in utter bewilderment. “W-what are you doing here?”

  She cocks her head, quirking a brow as she eyes me. “I know what you did.”

  Oh damn.

  “Nash told me everything.”

  I blink once, frozen as I stare at her, holding my breath while accepting whatever it is my fate may be.

  “You’re a complete psychopath,” she says with little to no emotion. “You know that, right?”

  I look down at my hands, nodding once, wondering if she came here just to make me feel worse than I already do.

  “But what kind of wife would I be if I didn’t try everything I can to help mend my husband’s broken heart?”

  Surprised and confused by her words, I look up finding the slightest hint of a smile ghosting over her red lips.

  “I know he’ll never forgive himself if his Murph isn’t at his wedding,” she continues. “And I know he’s miserable right now.”

  I swallow hard, watching as she closes the distance, stopping at the opposite countertop and taking a moment to gaze around at the shop with a faraway look in her eyes. “So, this is the bakery, huh?” She smiles, looking from the shiny turquoise KitchenAid, to the vintage jars that were my grandmother’s, lined perfectly up against the pale pink wall. She picks up my apron from where it’s sitting on the counter, the apron my mother made me as a graduation gift before I left for New York. She’d made it for me, making me promise that no matter what great, exciting things I go and do in my life, I’ll never forget where I came from, that I will always come back.

  Anna looks down at it, tracing a finger over the delicate lace, my name, Alice, embroidered over the front. She casts me a glance, her eyes full of an emotion I hadn’t expected. “I’ll admit when I first arrived in Graceville, I couldn’t
understand the hype about it. The way Nash went on and on about this place.” She smiles, a thoughtful look of consideration in her eyes as she carefully places the apron back onto the counter as if she’s afraid she might break it. And, with another smile, she nods. “Now I get it.”

  My brows knit together. “Get what?”

  “I grew up in a city with eight million people.” She laughs once, shaking her head. “And, don’t get me wrong, I love New York, but this place …” She sighs, looking around at my poky little store with the pale pink walls, lace curtains and the gingerbread-man-printed drapes, black and white floor tiles with a million scuff marks. “This is Nash’s home. You, Harley, Graceville, it’s all home to him, and I get it, because it’s something I’ve never had.”

  I press my lips together, pausing before finally speaking and breaking the silence that’s settled between us. “You must hate me for what I did,” I whisper, unsure if she even heard me or not.

  Anna glances up toward the ceiling a moment, her lips twisting to the side in consideration before she flashes me a knowing look. “Actually …” She shrugs. “It’s because of what you did that I don’t hate you.”

  My brow quirks in confusion of its own accord, and Anna laughs at my obvious reaction. She steps forward, moving around me and pulling herself up onto the counter. I tentatively follow suit, sitting on the very edge, right next to her, watching as she smiles to herself. “I owe you an apology, Murph.”

  “Huh?” I scoff. “You owe me an apology?” I gape at her, at a loss for words, and all I can do is continue to stare at her.

  She flashes me a slightly guilty-looking smile. “When I met Nash he told me all about you. All about the girl from Graceville, Georgia. The girl who owned his heart. The girl who saved him. The girl he swore he’d never stop loving.”

  My heart jumps up into the back of my throat, causing me to choke on my own tongue. I cough, clearing my throat, gawping at her, not having expected that.