With a trembling sigh, I stand and head toward the bar. I need something a little stronger than champagne if I’m going to make it through tonight.
“Hey, you.”
I glance over my shoulder to see Nash smiling at me.
“Oh. Hey.” I smile a real honest smile, turning to him. I take the opportunity to get another look at him. Because Nash in a tux is like a masterpiece in an art gallery—you just can’t help but stare.
“Will you dance with me?”
My brows climb slightly higher as I look from him, to where I can see Anna at a table talking with an older couple seemingly unaware that her husband is asking the woman who tried to poison her with laxative cake to dance. I offer him an uncertain look. “A-are you sure?”
“Of course!” He laughs, taking hold of my hand. “I gotta dance with my best friend at my own damn wedding.”
I manage a smile as he leads me to the dance floor, and I hold on to his shoulders while he holds on to my waist as we dance in time with the music, neither of us saying a word. I can feel his eyes on me the entire time, but I avoid his imploring gaze for as long as I can before it finally becomes too awkward and I know I have to look at him. When I do, I know exactly what he’s thinking.
“You look real beautiful tonight, Murph.”
I blush once again, ducking my head in an attempt at hiding my flaming cheeks.
“You do,” he assures me with a nod. “But you’re always beautiful. You just don’t seem to realize it.”
I press my lips together to stifle the awkward smile threatening me.
“I need to be honest with you,” he begins, tentatively, and I meet his eyes, nodding as my smile falls at the sudden seriousness of his tone. “When you told me you and Harley were … together,” he says, his jaw slightly tense, “I was happy for you, but man, I was so fuckin’ scared.”
“Scared?” I ask, my brow furrowed in confusion at his unexpected admission.
“I was scared I was gonna lose you to him.” He nods, pressing his lips together a moment. “I’ve always been terrified of losing you to Harley.” I blink at him, sufficiently confused, but he just laughs at me. “He’s been head over heels in love with you since we were kids.” He chuckles. “It was only a matter of time before he stole you away from me, and I always knew that day would come.”
My heart stops. And, for a moment, I’m not sure whether I heard him correctly. My brows pull together in confusion and doubt as I gape at him. “W-what are you even talking about?”
Nash laughs softly to himself, looking down a moment before meeting my eyes once again and nodding with a genuine smile. “It’s true. He was so angry with me when I told him you and me kissed that very first time in your bedroom, remember?”
I nod slowly, still completely bewildered by what he’s saying, but I do remember the two of them getting into a tussle while throwing the football around at our hideout, not long after that first kiss. At first, I thought they were just playing like they always did, but then it turned serious, and when I broke it up, Harley pushed Nash so hard he fell to his butt, and then he stormed off, flashing me a look I hadn’t been expecting before disappearing off into the woods. I didn’t think much of it at the time, but now …
Nash laughs again, looking up in thought as a faraway smile remains on his lips. “He didn’t speak to me for a whole week after that kiss.”
“You’re lying.”
He shakes his head, offering an earnest smile.
“But Harley … he—he hated me when we were kids. He said I stole you away from him. He was so mean.” I think back to all the times Harley Shaw made my life a living hell. The teasing. The pranks. The constant practical jokes. He would go out of his way to do something mean and horrible to me at least once every day.
“No, he never hated you,” Nash says with a defiant shake of his head. “He hated that you fell for me, and he hated me for stealing you away from him.”
Suddenly I think back to all the times Harley has been there for me over the years. Moments I perhaps took for granted because I was too damn obsessed with Nash to realize. Graduation night when he took care of me because Nash disappeared. When he practically checked himself out of hospital after his football injury, just to come to home to help me because Nash couldn’t leave New York. Hell, Harley was the one who saved me from Billy when we were 9 years old. It was never Nash.
As I allow Nash’s words to sink in, I glance over his shoulder, and at that moment my eyes connect with an intense green gaze set steadily upon me from the bar, and my breath hitches in the back of my throat. I continue staring into Harley’s eyes, and although we’re so far apart, physically and emotionally, right at that moment, even with Nash’s hands resting casually on my waist, it feels as if Harley and me are the only two people in the whole room.
“Don’t let him get away, Murph.” Nash’s whispered voice pulls me back to the now, and I tear my focus from Harley to find a sincere, hopefulness in my friend’s blue eyes as he implores me with an all-too-serious look that makes me realize just how right he is. “I meant it last night when I said the two of you are perfect for each other.” He presses his lips together, taking a moment before managing a wry smile. “It hurts like hell to say that,” he says with a soft laugh. “But it’s the truth. Y’all have always been perfect for one another. I just stood in the way for far too long.”
I seriously consider his words, but then I come to as the ache in my chest rears its ugly head. “But he’s here with Emma.” I shake my head, looking down momentarily only to hear Nash scoff. I lift my head to find a dubious smirk twisting his lips to the side.
“Oh, please. He called her an hour before the damn wedding was supposed to start and begged her to come with him. He didn’t even have a plus-one. The wait staff had to make an extra place setting at last notice.” He chuckles, shaking his head.
“But … w-why would he do that knowing it would hurt me?”
Nash says nothing, and he doesn’t have to. Instead he offers a knowing look, one of his brows quirked slightly higher. With a trembling breath, I glance back over toward the bar, but Harley’s no longer there. I turn, searching the ballroom, scanning the tables, looking everywhere. But I can’t find him. It’s as if he’s just vanished. Gone without a trace.
“You should go find him,” Nash says, as if he can hear my thoughts.
I begin to shake my head, trying desperately to think of an excuse. But I don’t have one. And when he lets go of my hand, gently shoving me away with a grin. I take an unsteady step backward, trying so hard to muster some courage, but it’s pointless. I’m terrified.
“He’s out on the patio.”
I startle at the voice behind me. Turning so quickly I almost slip over on the shiny dance floor, my eyes going wide when I see Emma looking at me with a small smile, a knowing glint in her eye.
“B-but I—” I shake my head, looking her up and down. I’d have to be a fool to think I could ever compete with someone like her. “But what about you?”
Her head drops back and she laughs out loud, causing my brows to knit together in confusion at her reaction. “Oh, please, Murph!” she shrieks, her laughter fading to a soft giggle as she cocks her head to the side, reaching out and gently touching my arm. “Just go find him.” She nods encouragingly. “He needs you, Murph. And, besides, Seth and I have been talking over the last few days … He’s really sweet. He’s driving down to visit me in Florida over the Memorial Day weekend!” She winks at me, and I gape at her as Nash laughs loudly.
I consider all of that for a moment, my heart racing in my chest to the point of pain. Swallowing hard, I take a deep breath, before turning on my heels and forcing my feet to move, despite my reservations. I have a choice to make; I either let him go and lose him forever, or I finally face the truth. This is it. It really is now or never.
***
Stepping out onto the patio, the silence and stillness of the night causes me to stop short, and I take the mome
nt to look at Harley there by himself, appearing more alone than I’ve ever seen anyone look. Hunched over with his elbows resting on the railing, dressed in his shirtsleeves, the white cotton pulling tight across the obviously tense muscles in his broad back. He really does look as if he needs somebody. Whether that somebody is me, who knows. But here I am.
His head lifts from where it had been hanging low, and I can see through the dim light that his once perfectly styled hair is now sticking up all over the place as if he’s been running his hands through it non-stop, and for some reason his melancholy makes my heart ache. Releasing the breath I’ve been holding since stepping outside, I smooth my hands down over my dress, hesitating momentarily before forcing myself to continue. But, of course, in true Murph-style, my heel catches between the flagstones, and I stumble sideways, knocking into one of the patio settings, causing an entire table to tumble, crashing to the ground in an almighty clatter.
Harley swings around, his face stark before his eyes narrow, finding me lurking in the shadows. Suddenly an angry-looking crease settles between his brows, and all I can do is stand there looking from him, to the table lying on its side before moving to pick it up.
“Don’t!” he yells. “It’s too heavy.”
I pause halfway, watching as he makes his way over with a huff of a sigh, swooping in to effortlessly pick up the table and place it where it was before I’d clumsily crashed into it. He casts me a wry glance, brushing his hands against the seat of his pants.
“Thanks,” I murmur, feeling my cheeks heat.
Harley says something unintelligible under his breath before turning and heading back to his spot by the railing. Reluctantly I follow, keeping my distance a few feet away as I look out at the view. The eighteenth hole looks almost magical tonight. The automatic sprinklers are on, the water a kaleidoscope of colors, illuminated by the flood lights in the ground that change from blue to pink, to green and purple and gold every minute or so. It’s a beautiful backdrop, but I’m not here for the view.
Fidgeting nervously, I consider my words, but I’m far too conscious of my heart racing so hard and so fast, surely, he can hear it. I chance a sideways glance, but he remains impassive as he stares out over the night. The only thing giving away his emotion is that crease that seems permanently etched into his brow. I swallow hard, and I turn to face him, watching him intently as he does everything he can to pretend as if I don’t exist.
“Why’d you bring Emma?”
He says nothing, ignoring me, but I can see his grip on the railing tighten, his jaw clenching.
“I know what you did,” I continue, watching him, and I can see his eyes flit to the side, looking at me. “Did you do it just to hurt me?”
Harley scoffs, but says nothing more, shaking his head, and at least I know he’s listening.
“Well, it worked …” I say so quietly as I look down at my hands. “You successfully hurt me, Harley.”
“Oh my fucking God!”
I startle from his booming voice and use of blasphemy, looking up to see him almost animatedly drop his head back and throw his fists in the air. “Every single thing you do hurts me!” he yells, and his proclamation is like a slap to the side of my face as it echoes throughout the night.
My jaw drops, and he turns to face me. I notice a look in his eyes I’ve never seen before, causing my brow to furrow as I study the confusing and contradicting expression on his face. I don’t know whether he’s angry, sad, worried or scared, but it only makes my heart race even faster.
“You wanna know why I brought Emma here?”
I nod, although now I’m not so sure.
He sighs heavily, scratching at the back of his neck the way he does whenever he’s nervous or hesitating. Closing his eyes a moment, he bows his head before looking at me once again. “I brought her here tonight because I wanted you to fight for me the way you fought so hard for Nash.”
Wait, what? I stare at him, my mouth opening and closing like a goddamn goldfish, but I’m at a loss for words. And thankfully, he breaks the awkward silence first. “But you didn’t fight for me. Instead, you walked away. And that hurt like hell because I realized I’ll never be the guy you fight for, Murph.”
I stare at him, blinking once. Is he fucking serious right now? “Are you fuckin’ serious right now?” Harley’s eyes widen at my use of profanity, and I slap a hand over my mouth, ashamed of myself before I collect what composure I can. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that out loud.” I shake my head dismissively. “But are you serious?” He just stares at me, not even blinking, so I continue. “You were never mine to fight for, Harley!” I throw my hands in the air. “I told you I was in love with you last night, and it was you who walked away.”
He scoffs once more, offering me an exasperated once-over.
“Why the hell would I fight for someone who never fought for me, even after all these years?” I add.
He’s clearly taken aback by my words, and his brow furrows in confusion as his head cocks to the side, his eyes narrowing as he studies me. “W-what are you even talking about?”
“Nash told me the truth. Everything,” is all I have to say, stubbornly folding my arms across my chest.
The revelation causes the hard look on his face to fall, and he glances down to the ground. I watch as he battles so obviously with his thoughts until finally he looks up at me with an expression of defeat, shrugging a shoulder. “You would’ve never chosen me over him. I saw it in your eyes that very first day, and then you walked off with him while I stayed behind … fighting. For you.”
My heart clenches at his hushed words so full of hurt and pain that I can feel through to my core.
“You were always so smart. You and Nash both were. Y’all were the two meant for each other.” He shrugs again, sadness in his eyes. “I was just the dumb jock.”
“Harley, you’ve never been the dumb jock.”
He laughs once under his breath, looking down again and shaking his head as another heavy silence falls between us.
“Harley.” I finally speak when I know he’s not going to. He peers up at me through his lashes, a sheepish look in his eyes. “When I said I was in love with you last night, I meant it.” I pause for a moment, before continuing, “I’m sorry for what I put you through this week. I’m sorry for not fighting for you. I’m sorry for everything. But mostly what I’m sorry for is not realizing sooner that you’re … you’re the love of my life, because you have been for as long as I can remember.”
His eyes widen at my confession, but nothing more is said. The silence is deafening, each second ticking away so slowly it’s almost excruciating. I stare at him and he continues watching me, but no words are spoken until he finally exhales an almighty breath as a string of inaudible curse words fall from his lips. Placing his hands low on his hips, he bows his head and, most shockingly of all, his shoulders begin to tremble.
I look closer, narrowing my eyes. “A-are you … are you crying?”
His head snaps up, and it’s then that I notice the smile on his face.
“Oh Lord!” I throw my hands up in frustration. “Of course you’re laughing. Everything is just a goddamn joke to you, isn’t it, Harley Shaw.”
His chuckle turns into a loud laugh before he’s in full-on hysterics, and all I can do is roll my eyes while I wait for him to finish. “I’m sorry, Murph.” He finally collects himself, clearing his throat and meeting my eyes. “I’m real sorry for laughing. But what the hell are we even doing?”
“Well, you’re being a jerk, for starters …” I mutter under my breath.
He flashes me a cocky smirk: his trademark. And damn him, I can’t help but crack a smile of my own. I duck my head and bite down hard on the inside of my cheek to stop myself, but it’s impossible.
“Come here.”
Looking up, I’m not sure I heard him right. Maybe it was my mind playing tricks on me. But when I find him standing there with one arm outstretched, I offer him a dubious look.
“Murph— No, Alice,” he corrects himself, and that cocky smirk morphs into a softer, genuine smile that hints at his dimples.
“What?” I stand my ground, looking him up and down.
“I’m sorry for being a jerk.” He scratches at that same nonexistent itch at the back of his neck, giving away just how suddenly nervous he is. “And … well …”
I can tell the words are difficult for him to say, but I’m actually enjoying watching him suffer. “What?” I tap my foot on the ground, waiting, flashing him a warning glare, and quirking a brow.
He huffs a dramatic sigh, looking up toward the sky with his hands in the air, and I bite my lips together to stop my smile from showing through. “Fine!” he yells, his hands falling hard against his thighs as he glowers at me. “I … love you.” He says the words as if he’s ripping off a Band-Aid, as if it hurts like hell but he’s too damn stubborn to show too much emotion. But then he softens, and his green eyes are suddenly full of sincerity. “I’ve loved you for a long time.”
“Since we were 9 years old, to be precise,” I correct him matter-of-factly, smiling like a smug jerk. “Nash told me everything.”
“Na.” He shakes his head, countering my smugness with a smart smile of his own. “When I was 9 I probably just wanted to touch your butt.” I gape at him incredulously, as he continues. “I was 14 when I knew I was in love in with you.” He flashes a smartass smile, his eyebrows waggling up and down, and I can’t help but laugh. “Now, will you just come here so I can kiss you, goddammit?”
He opens his arms once again, taking a step forward, and of course, I don’t hesitate in closing the distance between us, wrapping my arms around his neck. Our lips collide in a kiss that would otherwise bring me to my knees if he wasn’t holding me so tight. His tongue glides against mine so soft yet so demanding, eliciting a soft moan from me, and when I rake my fingers through the lengths of his hair, pulling at the longer curls, he sighs heavily into our heated exchange, his hands moving down and gripping my hips through my dress.
Where We Belong Page 24