I closed the book, tossed it onto the coffee table and spun around to kiss him.
“Oh, yes please,” he said against my lips. His hands fumbled for my shirt.
“Sorry to give you the wrong idea,” I said, capturing his hands in mine. “But I have to leave. I have a haircut appointment. And you have errands, too.”
He gave a little growl and pulled me closer. “I like your hair long.”
“Hartley,” I laughed. “I need a trim. Badly. And so you need to wait a few hours, okay? After the Beaumont Ball, I’m all yours.”
He flopped his head back against the sofa and sighed. “That sounds like a long few hours. Is this a ploy to skip the ball? Because it won’t work.”
I reached up to brush my hand against his chin, enjoying the feel of his lazy Saturday whiskers under my fingers. “No way,” I promised. “I went to the trouble of shopping for a dress, which is my least favorite activity in the world. You can bet I’ll put it on.” Sliding off his lap, I retrieved my crutches from the floor and stood up.
He rose to kiss me goodbye. “You are the perfect girl,” he said against my lips. “You’re hot, but you hate to shop. That dress is gonna look great. On my floor.” I laughed, and he smoothed my hair down over my shoulders. “I really do like it long. I wasn’t just saying that.”
“Me too. But chlorine has burnt the ends, and I’m getting a trim. See you later?” I kissed him one more time.
“Later…” he said, sitting back down on the couch, “is better than never.”
“That’s the spirit.” I put my pocketbook straps over both shoulders, opened the door and crutched out into the hallway.
After pulling the door shut behind me, I turned around. A man stood in front of Hartley’s door, as if he had just knocked, and was waiting for a response. “Excuse me,” I said. “Are you looking for…?” He turned to face me, and I sucked in my breath.
Because Hartley really did look a lot like his father.
It took me a minute to speak. I was too busy taking in the height of him, and the brown, wavy hair. He had the same full mouth as his son, and the same well-proportioned nose. Only the eyes were truly different. This man’s were blue, and not nearly as warm as Hartley’s.
“Do you know where he is?” the stranger asked, his voice quiet.
I nodded, finding my voice again. “Just one second. Don’t go anywhere.”
As I opened the door to my room again, crutching back inside, Hartley said, “Did you miss me already, beautiful?” Then he saw my face. “What’s the matter?”
Closing the door behind me, I leaned over the couch, whispering. “Your father is standing in the hallway.”
His eyes went wide with shock. “Are you sure?”
“I’m positive.”
Hartley jumped off the couch. “Shit. Right now?”
“Did you get a response to your letter?”
He shook his head.
“Wow. So this is it?”
He shrugged, his eyes still wide.
“Maybe it’s easier this way, not having to think about it first.”
He let out a gust of air. Then he looked down at himself, doing a quick inventory. He was wearing jeans and a Red Sox T-shirt, and bright orange sneakers.
“You are great, Hartley,” I whispered. “And unless you tell me not to, I’m going to open this door now. You can talk to him in here, okay?”
Hartley glanced around my room as if seeing it for the first time. Then he nodded again. I don’t know if he was doing the same math that I was — Hartley’s unmade bed would be a more awkward meeting place than my little common room. I watched him take a deep breath. I turned the knob, and Hartley swung it wide open for me. I whispered into his ear, “I love you so much.” I turned to walk out, but Hartley grabbed my hand. And even as his father turned to watch us, he pressed a kiss to my forehead before letting me go.
I took one more look at the man who had come to see him. He was staring at Hartley, his face flushed, his body still. “Why don’t you come in,” I heard Hartley say before I pushed open the outer door and left McHerrin.
— Hartley
For a long minute, neither of us said anything. He sat down on Corey’s sofa, and I pulled Dana’s desk chair over to sit across from him. I’d seen pictures of him on the Internet many times before, but this was different. I never thought I’d breathe the same air as this man. And it was hard work getting past my shock.
I think it was hard work for him, too.
So we stared at each other for a couple of minutes. “Adam,” he said eventually. He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. I know my apology comes ridiculously late. And I don’t really expect you to understand. But I came here to say it anyway.”