I shake my head when she laughs and brings the flowers into the living room and places them in the middle of the wooden coffee table. I look over at the mantel on top of the fireplace and see that there are five picture frames. She bends over and my eyes go to her ass once more, and when she snaps back up and turns around, she catches me staring. "Okay." She claps her hands and walks to me. Her smell of honey fills me when she gets close enough, and my hand shoots out to bring her closer to me. The softness of her long-sleeved white cashmere sweater feels like silk. It hangs low in the front and falls off her shoulder a bit, and I bend to kiss it. "I put my grandmother's chicken potpie in the oven when I got home," she informs me and I still don’t let her go. "We can have a glass of wine outside while we wait."
"That sounds like a plan," I say, kissing her lips softly as my arm lets go of her waist. She walks back into the kitchen and I’m suddenly fucking jealous and angry that she grew a life here and I wasn’t here with her. I know it’s stupid since I was building my own life, but seeing her in her environment just makes it so much more real. She grabs two wineglasses and then walks to the fridge, taking out a bottle of white wine. "Do you want red?"
"I’m good with whatever you are having," I say and she pours white wine into the two glasses.
She hands me a glass and takes hers in one hand and the bottle in the other.
"Let’s sit outside. The potpie shouldn’t be long, and I’ve been cooped up in the office all day."
"Lead the way," I say and she turns toward the side where the back door is. She looks over at me to open the door for her since her hands are full. I step forward and lick my lips, kissing her again before opening the door and holding it open for her.
"Thank you," she says, walking past me. "Welcome to my oasis," she says and I look around at the big wooden deck that is covered with a round table with six chairs. "Let’s sit over there." She points at another level of her deck where there is a couch area that is also covered. I walk down the step and look around at the trees that are surrounding her.
A hammock in the corner of the yard sways back and forth. "This is relaxing," I say, looking around, seeing her slip her legs under her on the couch as she sits.
I sit down on the couch facing her, even though I want to sit next to her and touch her. "This is paradise," I say, putting my ankle on top of my knee and leaning back in the couch. My arm opens to drape across the back of the chair. "Do you spend a lot of time out here?"
She shakes her head, taking a sip of her wine. "Sadly, not as much as I want to."
I sit back and watch her. Fuck, I could watch her for hours, days, weeks, months, years. Fuck, I want to watch her forever. "Why are you staring at me like that?"
I shrug and take a sip of my wine. "You’re beautiful," I say as the sun slowly starts to set on one side. The sky is turning a soft pink. "It’s going to be a nice day tomorrow?"
"It’s supposed to be nice all weekend long." She stares back at me and I smile, bringing the glass to my lips. "I’m going to go and check on dinner." She gets up and finishes the rest of her wine. "I’ll be right back."
"I’m not going anywhere," I say, and she looks down and walks back into her house. "Not anytime soon."
Chapter 18
Harlow
"It’s supposed to be nice all weekend long." I stare at him wondering what the fuck he is thinking. "I’m going to go and check on dinner." The nerves are going to take over my whole body and I need to step away from him for a second. I grab my wineglass and finish the rest of it. "I’ll be right back."
"I’m not going anywhere." His statement sends shivers down my spine and I avoid his eyes. Walking back into the house, the cold air hits me right away. I close the door behind me and I can’t help when my body collapses with my back against it. Ever since he walked out of my office this afternoon, I’ve gone over everything in my head. Why the hell was he here? Why after all this time, was he here? One night with him has sent my life into an upheaval.
Pushing myself from the door, I walk over to the oven and open it to see the potpie a golden brown. "It’s smells delish," I say, walking over to grab two plates. I grab a big tray and arrange everything on it. After I add the utensils, I walk over to the fridge and take out the premade salad that I bought myself at lunch thinking that I was going to have a nice relaxing evening at home, instead of this. "What the hell is going on?" I mumble when I look outside and see Travis standing up, looking around. "Why the fuck is he even here?" Putting on the oven mitts I take the potpie out of the oven and place it on the tray. Taking off the mitts, I place them on the counter and take another look outside, seeing the sun setting right behind him. My stomach flutters when I see his silhouette facing away from me. He stands there with his hands in his pockets just looking off into the distance, and again I wonder what the hell was he thinking. "Get through dinner and maybe he will go back from where he came," I say, walking over to the door and opening it before going back and grabbing the tray.
He must sense me coming because he turns around and rushes to my side to grab the tray from me. "Why didn’t you call me?" he asks as he takes the tray from my hands.
"Well, because it’s just a tray of food and I could carry it," I huff out, walking toward the couch area to grab the wine and the bottle. When I walk back to the table area, he has the tray in the middle of the table and he’s setting the utensils on the place mats. The sun went down a lot faster than I thought it would and the little fairy lights that I have wrapping around the trees are starting to turn on. It gives it a whimsical glow. I’m not going to lie, but lying in the hammock with the lights on and listening to sounds of nature is relaxing.
"This smells amazing," he says, and I look over at him as I pour him another glass of wine and then fill my own glass a bit more than I should.
"You sound both shocked and amazed by this." I try not to laugh as I sit down in front of him.
"That’s because I am." He doesn’t lie to me, which I guess I should give him props for.
"Well, I can use an oven like no one else can," I joke with him and cut the pie in fourths. "It’s hard to fuck up when all you have to do is set the temperature and put on a timer."
I hold out my hand for his plate and he hands it to me, our fingers graze. "Didn’t you burn a pizza pocket?"
I glare at him as I put a big piece on his plate. "That was in the microwave and I pressed an extra zero by accident."
He laughs as I hand him his plate. "Didn’t you have to buy a new one?"
"No," I say, putting my own piece on my plate and sitting down. "I just chose to because I couldn’t scrape out the cheese and it smelled bad." I roll my eyes. "I can’t believe it exploded," I say, laughing at myself. "Who would have thought."
"It was a massacre," he adds in and waits for me to pick up my fork before he picks up his own.
My stomach is so twisted in knots I barely eat anything, and when he grabs his glass of wine and leans back in his chair, I ask him what I’ve been dying to ask him ever since I saw him standing in my waiting room. "Travis." I say his name, grabbing my own wine and take a shot for liquid courage.
"Harlow." He says my name and I ignore the smirk on his face. If I wasn’t so nervous, I would laugh at how crazy this whole thing is. If I wasn’t so nervous, I would make a joke about it. If I wasn’t so nervous about all of this, I wouldn’t be able to ask him the loaded questions. But he is here and it’s been four years; if I get anything out of this, it will be the questions answered I’ve asked him in my head the last four years.
"Why are you really here?" I ask him. My heart is starting to pick up its pace and the back of my neck suddenly feels like it’s on fire.
My eyes never leave his as I wait for him to answer the loaded question I just asked him. "I missed you," he says, and I don’t know if it’s the nerves or the wine or a bit of both but I laugh.
"You were getting married last week," I say, the words tasting like bile in my mouth. "And you missed me?" I shake my head and laugh bitterly as I take another sip of wine. "You broke up with me." Fuck, I want to kick myself for making it sound like it still bothers me.
"I broke up with you," he says, putting his glass of wine back down on the table. Then leans back again in the chair, folding his hands in front of him, looking calm, cool, and collected. Irritating me even more, because he looks so fucking good doing it. "Because I was an idiot."