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“Harps… I’m moving in today. It’s already eleven, and we haven’t unpacked one box. I’m going to be exhausted by tonight.”Not to mention, my usual bedtime is nine sharp.
She waves her hand, “I know that’s why I’ll be your wingwoman. It’s going to be great. Hey, don’t give me that look. I know you. If I don’t push you, then once I leave, you will just repeat everything you have done for the past three years. You wanted change. I’m helping. As a matter of fact, I have another surprise for you.”
My hand lands on my hip as I study her. The sun is beating down on us, beads of sweat forming on both our brows. “Come on, let’s get inside,” I exhale as we begin to walk around the long lap pool.
“It’s going to be fine, Pops.”
“Yeah, sure it is.”
She wipes the sweat off the back of her hand. The sun here really is next level.
“Jesus, please don’t forsake us,” Harper presses her hands together in prayer. “Send us a cool draft of wind because my boob sweat is next level.”
I literally trip as I stumble in laughter, narrowly escaping the pool. “Lord, help me,” I reply, wondering what she’s up to because that last comment was meant to make me laugh and forget about tonight.
As soon as we open the door, a cold blast of air-conditioning cools us off.
“Thank god,” I murmur. I fan my shirt in and out, hoping to cool some of the sweat dripping down my back.
“Yes, thank him,” Harper repeats. Her tone is off.
“What are you not telling me?” I deadpan.
“Well, some of your stuff doesn’t need to be unpacked.”
My eyes widen, “They lost my boxes!”
Harper shakes her hands, “No, not that. It’s just some of it that has arrived already.” Color me confused. How did my stuff arrive before the moving truck?
“I used the money you gave me to buy you something, and it happened to arrive two days ago. The receptionist put the boxes in your apartment already.” She blurts out.
I jab the elevator button repeatedly. "I didn’t want you to buy me anything. That money was meant for you," I protest.
"It made me feel like you were paying me off for being your bestie and soul sister."
"You make it sound like you’re a whore. Sisters buy each other gifts."
Her expression shifts to shock, prompting a giggle from me. "If the shoe fits," she retorts, wiggling her running shoes.
"But seriously, I wanted you to buy something for yourself. I’ll never use all that money. I can't even go through living off the interest alone."
“Calm your tits. I bought a little something for myself. I used a small part of it as a thank you,” she insists, her eyes gleaming with excitement. She looks as adorable as a puppy, begging for me to pick it up.
“Harps, that money was my thank you for helping me move. I told you to get a massage with it or something that would help you relax after this.”
“Does this massage include a happy ending?”
“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that,” I exhale. “You can’t regift a thank you,” I argue.
“Sure you can, silly. Plus, I had alternative motives,” she teases, her words hinting at hidden surprises.
“You always do,” I say, a smile breaking through my defenses. The elevator doors close, and I press the P button. Penthouse. It feels surreal.
Harper was a wild child during high school, and Henry and I were her willing accomplices. We’d sneak out, attend parties, and live life to the fullest. Peter played the role of the responsible adult.
After my parents passed away, Peter and Henry were seventeen years old, and with the assistance of Poppy's father, who was a lawyer, they managed to get a judge to grant them full custody of me. We continued living in our parents' house, and slowly but surely, it felt like a home again. Harper's parents were always in the shadows, watching over us and providing support when needed. It seemed like the four of us were an unbreakable fixture...until we did, in fact, break. We went from four to three, then to just Harper and me.
Before Peter died, I started to laugh again until I didn’t—until the word “trust” was shattered.
