I know I should talk to him, maybe offer him money for mowing my lawn twice a week, but last night I was a bitch to him and he probably couldn’t care less if we ever speak again. I hate myself for even thinking about his feelings, but I do, even if I can’t admit it to anyone. As much as I want to, I can’t turn off the way I feel when he’s near.
Peyton and Elle come running into the house. Peyton is covered in dirt. Elle looks prim and proper. This is typical and it makes me miss life on the tour bus. Peyton didn’t have mounds of dirt or grass to roll in and stain her clothes. Elle gives me a hug, picks up her book and heads to her shared bedroom to read. I give Peyton one look and she knows. She heads off to the bathroom, stomping and muttering under her breath. I don’t know what I’m going to do with her. She’s been more withdrawn since we returned. The only people she’s willing to do anything with are Noah and Quinn. I was hoping that once school started, she’d settle down, but I’m afraid she’s going to continue to struggle and I don’t know how to help her if I can’t even help myself.
It’s been a year. I was hoping people would forget, but no such luck. The copious amount of flowers brought by Josie’s delivery boy is evidence that we’re at the forefront of everyone’s thoughts. I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do. There’s no guide instructing me how to act or feel, aside from being empty. We went to the cemetery with Mr. Powell and that felt awkward. I couldn’t be me with my father-in-law standing there. He wants to go out to dinner, but that feels wrong. Liam says Mason would want us to celebrate and that means a night of childish antics at the tower, not that I’m opposed to that, but Harrison will be there and I’m not sure how much more I can handle. I’m tired of Liam and Josie telling me that Mason would want me to move on with someone who cares about me and the girls. I’m not buying it.
Jenna suggested I visit a medium. She believes in the fates and kismet. Josie offered to go with me, but I’m afraid of what I’ll find out. What if he’s happy? Is that possible? I can’t take the chance that Mason is okay with not being here with us anymore. Josie says I’m overreacting. I’m scared that she’s right. What if the medium tells me things that I don’t want to know?
The sound of the mower near the back door brings me out of my reverie. My hand wipes at my cheek, only to find it dry. I’ve found that I’m crying less and less as the time gets farther away from the last time I kissed Mason. Now, we only kiss in dreams and memories, and those are starting to fade too.
Harrison comes into view. He’s in a tank top today, showing off even more tattoos than I’ve seen before. He looks briefly toward the sliding glass door as he passes. It’s hot out and he’s wearing that damn hat. Even last night he had something on his head. I step toward the door, my hand resting on the handle. Do I want to go out there and pretend I have something to clean? I look at my all but forgotten flowerbed and see that the flowers need to be pruned. I’m wearing shorts and a t-shirt, easily considered gardening clothes.
I slide the door open and step out. The hot sun is beating down. We are in desperate need of rain. I step off my patio and onto the freshly cut grass. I’m tempted to take my shoes off to feel the coolness of the ground. I watch Harrison as he mows in almost even strips. This is a side of Harrison that separates him from the rock star that I know. I haven’t told anyone this, but the bouquet he gave me at Christmas last year hangs in my closet. I can’t bring myself to throw them out.
Each time Harrison walks by, he’s closer. His pattern has changed. Maybe he’s done this every time he’s out here and I just haven’t noticed.
I’m looking now and I’m not sure I’m going to be able to stop. There’s something that pulls me to him, and as much as I don’t want to admit it, he makes me feel; and not the same way that Mason did, but different.
He shuts the mower off. He lifts his shirt and I can see his toned stomach and the dark patch of hair extending into his shorts. I try not to stare, but I can’t help it. He’s beautiful in his own unique way. I know why women flock to him. He’s easy on the eyes. He wipes the sweat from his forehead. His hand moving under that god-awful hat he’s wearing. I’m starting to think he wears it just to piss me off. If he is, it’s working.
He’s watching me, waiting to see if I’ll run away. Maybe I need to heed Dr. Brooks’ advice and find a companion. I’m just not sure Harrison is the one for me. There’s too much that I can’t wrap my head around where he’s concerned.
I take a step closer. He does the same thing. Both of us are taking steps until we’re in front of each other. He stands so much taller than me that I have to look up at him.
“I’m sorry about last night.”
I didn’t expect those words to come from him. His voice is soft. I can hear the remorse in the tone.
“Me too, I was out of line.”
“It happens.”