Matched (38 page)

Emma looks as apprehensive as I do at having a visitor this late.

I crack the door a smidge. “Callie,” I greet her, then hold up a finger and glance over my shoulder. “Em, Callie’s here. You feel like company?”

Silly question.
She beams and props herself up in bed instantly. “You’re as bad as Cruz. Let her in, worrywart.”

“Sorry,” I mumble, ushering her inside. “Just thought I should ask.”

“I understand.” Callie hugs me, whispering in my ear, “You’re a great friend, Harlow. Give me a little while with her, then let’s talk.”

With apprehensive agreement, I excuse myself to give them some privacy—these rooms are cramped enough anyway—and step outside, pulling the door shut behind me. It’s too dark for me to feel safe enough taking a stroll or visiting the chapel, so I sit down right where I am.

My head rests back against the wall, my eyelids heavy. As if I’m not already struggling to keep the frenzy of emotions riddling me at a low simmer, now Callie wants to “talk.” It’s no mystery what about.

I go willingly into oblivion, closing my eyes and decompressing. I imagine how wonderful it’d be to visit all of Seychelles’ islands, under even semi-normal circumstances. The night air is warm but not balmy, the light wind refreshing but not too chilly. And the birds, ever-present, are harmonic rather than noisy.

“Harlow.”

Callie is squatted down in front of me, shaking my shoulder. Good thing I didn’t fall asleep out here alone, since I was too scared to take a walk.

“Hey, sorry.” I hoist myself to my feet, my voice scratchy. “You have a good visit with Em?”

“Yeah. She’s a tough cookie, that one. Wish I had half her strength. But I’m glad I got to say goodbye.” Her eyes flicker back and forth to gauge the reaction in mine.

“Goodbye?”

“Harlow.” She takes one of my hands in hers. “Oakley and I are leaving. We got sent into the Soul Search tonight…and matched.”

There’s no diluting the gush of sentiment coursing rampantly through me. What sentiment, I’m undecided, but I suppose that’s a good thing. I’m not throwing up—or punches—and my eyes are dry.

She squeezes my hand, her voice cautious. “Harlow, I don’t know any better than you or anyone else here why the computers do and don’t match people. But I swear to you, nothing has happened between Oakley and me, or ever will. We’re just friends.” She ducks her head to regain eye contact. “It’s really important to me that you believe that, Harlow. You’re a woman, you know the score. It’s not hard finding a guy who’ll make you feel important, if only for one night—hell, one
hour
. But good, I mean
really
good, friends? I didn’t, and
wouldn’t
risk losing you.”

Now the moisture builds in my eyes, tears at the ready. Her words are touching, but mostly my heart clenches because they apply just as perfectly to the beautiful soul in the room behind me who might be taken from us. And then I think of the one who’d ache the most from that loss—Cruz. And from that thought, I’m able to find my only possible response.

“Hey.” I jiggle our joined hands. “Listen to me, Callie girl. I love you, and I love Oakley even more. He’s just amazing enough to deserve you, if you ever decide that’s the route you want to take. Okay?”

She nods, sniffling, and pulls a tiny piece of paper from her pocket. “This is, uh, my cell number and address…if you want it.”

“Of course I do.” I snatch it and smile, the latter of which doesn’t take as much effort as you’d think. “I mean it, Callie. You have…my blessing?” We laugh together at my questionable wording; clearly not her father giving away her hand. “So…where’s your trip to?”

“Rome,” she whispers. “I’ve always wanted to see the old architecture. You’d think, with the Olympics, I’d have been there,” she says with a laugh, “but no. Oakley wants to see—”

“The Colosseum,” we finish in one voice.

“I’ll be. I
do
know something about him,” I say through a broken chuckle.

She frowns, not fooled by my feeble attempt to play off my remorse for all that once was and will never be again. I’m not sorry, but it’s worth reflecting on with a tinge of regret.

“Anyway, Oakley’s—”

“Right over there.” She points to the parking lot.

“Stay with Emma?”

“As long as you want.” Her smile’s laced with empathy. “I’ll watch till you’re there. And Harlow?” I turn back. “Promise me you’ll be as understanding with yourself as you are with everyone else. Take care of
you
once in a while, huh?”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

He reveals himself, stepping into the soft glow of the lamppost, the trepidation radiating in his eyes combining with the impassiveness in my own. But our mirrored need to salvage all that can be is unmistakable.

“How’s Emma?” he asks, moving into my space.

“Obstinate, antsy, but good…for now.”

“Glad to hear it. You’ll tell her for me?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Let’s sit.” He guides me to a bench nearby and we settle, our bodies turned in toward each other. “I guess Callie told you I’m leaving?”

“Yeah. Heard you finally get to see the Colosseum. That’s awesome, Oakley.”

“I’m excited about it, but…I don’t know. I feel bad dragging you here only to leave you here. Doesn’t seem right.” He drives a shaking hand through the familiar brown locks I’ve tangled my fingers in so many times.

I lay my hand on his knee and his body jolts, but I leave it there and rub slowly. “Oak, I’m sorry, for so many things. I—”

“Har.” He scoots closer.

“No, please…let me finish.” My voice cracks, but my intent’s unyielding. “You don’t need me to say you were my first and only love—the only man I’ve ever been with, and for many years, my very best friend. Those are all the things I will forever cherish, even as I mourn them. I love you, for the person you are and what we were. That will never change. And for whatever I did wrong, I’m sorry and forgive you of the same.”

He covers my hand on his knee with his own and takes my other one as I continue.

“This house certainly didn’t help, but we can’t delude ourselves by placing all the blame there, and I think you know it.” I take a few necessary breaths to calm the building flood summoning beneath my eyes, and he waits silently. “I think, all those years apart…we grew up, into different, older versions of ourselves. You came barging back in looking to carry your princess off into the sunset, but I…I’m just not her, Oak. But she’s out there. You deserve happiness, and whoever’s happy giving it to you—your way.”

I’ve never seen Oakley cry, so the glistening in his eyes now obliterates my rationale. “Oh, Oakley.” I spring forward and wrap my arms around him, burying my face in his shoulder.

“I’m sorry for the nasty things I said, Har.” It’s a muffled plea; his face is tucked into my hair. “You
are
special. I don’t regret a single second of you and me.”

“I know, me either. We were trying so hard to keep something alive…that was already gone.” I lift my head and move back to my spot on the bench. “Please don’t ever think this was your fault. It isn’t—it’s no one’s. Just life, learning, growing. I wouldn’t be happy without a career of my own. And kids—”

“I could’ve worked with your career. And maybe I’ll change my mind on kids one day, who knows?”

“You might, and you’ll be an amazing dad if you do. But I don’t want to be a workaround, or for my dreams to be a ‘maybe.’ I want a united team from day one. Don’t you?”

He contemplates this with his eyes cast down and brows drawn together firmly before finally speaking earnestly. “Yeah, I do. I just wish it could’ve been different.”

I give him a loving half smile while flashes of school dances, football games, pep rallies, and late-night trips to the lake dance through my mind. “Things will be different, Oak—forever. But I think they’ll be better. I hope my oldest friend will keep me informed of all the wonder and love he finds.” My brow arches with my mounting grin.

“Only if you promise to do the same.”

“I promise.”

We rise simultaneously and hug for the last time for a while, though hopefully not ever.

“You and me, Harlow.”

I nod along, smiling. “Friends.”

He leans down and kisses my cheek, his lips resting there for a long, tender pause.

I retreat a step, placing our memories in a special box and tucking it away deep in my heart. “I’ll see ya. Have a safe trip. I’ll send Callie down.”

“Harlow, about Cal—”

“No.” I hold up a hand and shake my head. “She’s wonderful, beautiful, and square with me. Be happy, my sweet Oakley.”

I don’t look back until after I’ve hugged Callie goodbye. She reaches him and I see, illuminated in the light, his hand rest on the small of her back. Just for a moment, I’m transported to the days that was my back under his touch, remembering the ripple of sheer happiness it’d send streaming through me.

“Be happy,” I whisper, then blow a kiss in the wind their way.

“You’re home!”

Miranda, whom I’m still getting used to calling that, greets us at the door and grabs the duffel from my hand. One of the crewmembers brought a few necessities to Emma and me yesterday, but swore when we pried that Callie had done the packing—Callie, who’s no longer waiting by the pool or in the Great Room, probably halfway across the world by now.

I grin at Miranda and haul her in close for a hug. “How are you feeling?” I ask, unsure if she knows about Adam leaving.

“Me?” she shrieks. “Worried to death about our girl.” She wraps Emma in a delicate embrace. “Tell me the truth. How are you?”

Emma’s all smiles, excited to be back. “Fabulous!”

“Hey.”

I turn at the familiar husky voice. Cruz is standing at my side, his fingers brushing discreetly against mine.

“Hey.” I bite my lip, our eyes dueling to communicate without words considering we’re back in the limelight.

“So I take it…” I hear Miranda giggle to Emma.

“Yup, it bloomed.”

I look at both of them, watching us and grinning. “I need a shower,” I say, glancing once more at Cruz. His eyes are bright.

“You? How do you think
I
feel?” Emma’s already blowing by us and heading toward the stairs, calling dibs on the tub over her shoulder.

Cruz takes my arm and pulls me to the side, whispering, “When you girls get done, bring her down to the pool.”

My face strains to control my smile. “Okay. You been up to something?”

“All Miranda and Court.”

I nod. My gaze, constantly sneaky, moves down to his lips just in time to see his tongue moistening the width of them.

“Shower.” I back away and point at the stairs absentmindedly, needing some space before I pounce on him in front of the cameras.

“Later, Harlow.” His tone carries as much desire as his expression, and my belly erupts in a frenzy of giddiness.

I’ve never enjoyed a shower more, so I take my sweet time before forcing myself out. I throw on a bikini and shorts and head to Emma’s room, only to find it empty.

I’m on my way downstairs when I run into Miranda in the hall.

“Good shower?” she asks, smiling.

“The best.”

I follow her down the stairs, unsure where to start but knowing it needs to be addressed now. “Adam quit.”

She stops mid-step and angles to look at me, the emotionless mask on her face unreadable. “I heard. Some new producer showed up late last night.”

“I’m sorry,” I offer in a weak whisper.

“Yeah, well, obviously I’m the absolute worst judge of character ever, seeing as he couldn’t even be bothered to say goodbye.”

“He told me to tell you.”

“You spoke with him?”

“Yeah, at the hospital. He was on the phone, and I guess the network wants to include the footage of you two when the show airs. He refused.”

Her shoulders sag, eyes vacant. “Of course. Can’t say I blame him. Not that anything happened between us, but who’d want the world to see you might have feelings for a slut?”

“Miran—”

“No, it’s all right.” Her polished smiles appears. “I’m good with it. Like I said, nothing serious ever happened between us. No harm, no foul, men suck. Movin’ on!”