“Sinclair has always hated his name.” James throws his comment on the table with no emotion, as if he were referring to the weather. I notice a frown on Sin’s face and I want to tell him how much I love his name. It’s raw and strong, like him—forbidden with a certain edge—but I keep my mouth shut.
“Hate is a strong word. Let’s just say I prefer my nickname, Sin.” I swear, Emma’s eyes become dreamy. “Harlow, your name is unique.” Sin turns his attention to me. I shift in my chair, unsure of how much to engage with him.
“I can tell you how she got her name.” Emma solves the problem for me.
“Wait. I know,” James interrupts. I squint my eyes at him, wondering what he will say. “When she was born with a head full of blond curls, the nurses all said she looked like a baby version of Jean Harlow—the old movie actress from the nineteen-thirties—so her mother named her after the actress.”
“But …” I say in shock. What? My world starts to spin and I become light-headed. I never told James the story about my mother naming me. I’ve only shared it with one other person in my life. Emma.
“You remember telling me, right?” I stare back at James in disbelief. He knows he has been caught and now he’s trying to weasel his way out of it.
“Uh …” I stammer.
“She has trouble remembering things after her mother died,” James interrupts before I can tell him I don’t remember and it’s not because I forgot. I never once mentioned it to him. He never let me talk about my mother at all. She was a taboo subject in his house.
How in the hell does he know this story? The only other option makes my stomach heave. It had to have been my mother.
But when? The possibilities usher a cold, damp sweat over my skin. I try to ignore the thoughts running through my head.
I do my best to keep it together the rest of brunch. I should confront him and find out the truth, but I’m so close to leaving him.
If it were possible to run out the door, I would without a thought. Instead, I nod when it’s appropriate and shift food around on my plate. I even manage to eat a couple bites.
One question drowns out everything around me: did he know my mother? Deep down, I know the answer, and it horrifies me.
James rubs his hand over mine and the simple contact brings me out of my shock-induced stupor. His touch sickens me to my soul and I pull my hand away.
“You’re being awfully quiet today, love.”
“It’s that headache still.” This time, my excuse isn’t a lie. My head feels like it might split in two.
“Maybe we should leave,” James says. I nod my head and try to compose myself. “Why don’t you let Emma drive you straight home? I’ll lead Sinclair downtown to the condo.”
“Are you okay with that, Emma?” I ask, praying she says yes. I need to talk to her about everything—leaving James, him knowing about how I was named. My world has been turned upside down and I can’t shake the fear prickling my skin. If James knew my mother before he met me … I can’t begin to wrap my head around what that means and how he became a part of my life. The possibilities frighten me.
“Sure. I’m free for the rest of the day.” She might be addressing me, but her eyes rest on Sin.
I hate that my last few minutes with Sin are clouded by this pounding in my head. I get up from the table and Emma comes to my side.
“You really aren’t doing well.” She laces her elbow with mine.
“Just need some fresh air,” I say, fighting back tears. Though I’m scared from the revelation about James, I’m more upset about never seeing Sin again. I want to give him a hug goodbye, but James will freak out if I do.
Emma ushers me through the club’s lobby area. Paul never works Sundays, but I wish he were scheduled today. I need to see his smiling face.
Once we are outside, we walk toward the parking lot. I take a couple deep breaths, but the unnerving fears linger.
“Sin.” Sin’s name rolls off Emma’s tongue. “He’s the hottest guy I’ve ever spoken to. The color of his eyes. His jaw porn. His hard body. Damn, Harlow. Is it bad that I want to screw his brains out?” She giggles, and I flinch.
How can I tell her it’s bad when, if I’m honest with myself, I want to be with him, too? Why fight the truth? His touch against my skin is electrifying, where as James’ fingers are as cold as ice. But I have to face reality. Being with Sin is impossible. We would never have a chance.
“He’s a great guy,” I say through heavy tears, unable to keep them at bay any longer. Next, my shoulders start to shake with sobs. I am a complete mess.
“What is going on?” Emma asks.
“Just get me to the car.” This time, she takes my hand in hers. I glance up and see her concerned face through my wet tears.
“Harlow!” Sin calls out from somewhere behind me. I forgot he parked in the lot, leaving James likely alone, waiting for his Mercedes sedan at the valet.
I stop in my tracks, even though Emma’s car is right next to me. I hate for Sin to see me like this. He probably thinks I’m an emotionally unstable head case—and he would be right. Yesterday, I lost it with him, and now, I’m losing it over him.