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Ignoring her, I focused on her condition. “This Luke is one classy guy who lets his date get so fucking drunk she can’t stand up at the end of the night.”
“Really?” she questioned, staring vacantly at me for a few moments before she drew breath and blinked in slow motion. “Luke didn’t let me do anything. How much I drank was my choice. Unlike you, Luke doesn’t tell me what I can and can’t do. I don’t work for him.”
“All right, so you let this guy think you’re a lush?”
“You’re jealous because he’s hot and available and you’re not.”
“And now you’re talking nonsense,” I chided.
“Not nonsense,” she slurred, as she hiccupped and blinked again.
“You don’t even know what you’re saying.”
“Sure I do. Luke likes to fuck me, and you wish you were him, only you can’t allow yourself to act on what we both know you feel in here,” she told me, taking her hand off my face and poking a finger at the center of my chest. I growled that she’d let him inside her already.
Confirming she’d had sex with the guy made me want to vomit, but who was I to judge? My only hope was he hadn’t taken advantage of her while she was drunk.
“Now I know you’re way past smashed with comments like this,” I remarked in frustration, noting the tension in my jaw once I’d stopped talking.
“Oh, I know what I’m saying. And do you want to know why I’m so drunk? It’s your fault. After I slept with Luke I hated myself, because he’s a really, really nice guy. We could go somewhere if I wanted it to, but it won’t because he isn’t you,” she admitted, stroking my face again slowly.
“This isn’t fair, Cole, none of this is fair.” Tears welled in her eyes and from my perspective there was only one thing worse than a drunken female, and that was a crying drunken female.
“Look, let’s get you along to your bed,” I offered, trying to avert her becoming a sobbing mess.
“Yeah, and we know what happened the last time you did that. Anyway, don’t. I’m not finished. The injustice of the sadness in this house is heartbreaking. I’m sad for you, Grace, Layla… what happened to you guys, but this…” she shrugged, her eyes rolling to the top of her head in thought, “this chemistry...” she paused again and inhaled deeply then stared pleadingly into my eyes. “Don’t look at me like that, like you’re being fucking tortured; you know what I mean? Don’t deny what you feel about me.”
She wasn’t in any position for us to have the kind of conversation I wanted to have with her. “Go to bed, Harper. We’ll talk tomorrow—”
“No! I want to talk now,” she demanded and attempted to hold herself up. Flopping again, her head landed on my shoulder and she passed out. It was as if she’d used the last of her energy to assert herself. I sighed, wondering how to get her back to her room.
Glancing at her limp body, I knew she’d be a dead weight. Although I could carry her easily enough, I was concerned about leaving her. What if she gets sick and chokes in the night?
Moving her onto her back I gently removed her shoes and her jacket, being careful to leave her clothes on, then I picked her up and lay her on my side of my bed. Turning her onto her side, I stuffed two pillows behind her back to prevent her from rolling and pulled the comforter up to her neck.
Walking around the bed, I climbed onto Grace’s side and lay staring in the dark at Harper’s silhouette lying beside me.
Grief was exhausting and the climb to recovery steep, but the previous few weeks had taught me life was for the living. With that mindset I slid slowly into a restless sleep, deciding if I wanted Harper, I’d have to take a leap of faith and hope the rest would figure itself out in time.
Startled awake by the bed covers sliding over my body, I rose up on one arm and realized Harper had pulled them all off of me and was lightly snoring. I snickered because I’d never seen her this way… ever. I wondered how she’d react when she woke up and found herself in my bed. My bet was she would be mortified.
Turning to see the time and noting it was almost 6:00 a.m., I slid out of bed, quietly pulled on some jeans and a T-shirt and went down the hall to wait for Layla to wake up. The last thing I wanted to happen was for Layla to find Harper in bed with me.
Like clockwork, a few minutes later she came shuffling out of her bedroom and into her playroom.
“Hey, Baby.” Greeting her in a soft tone earned the same response from her as she mimicked my tone.
“Hey, Daddy, why are we being quiet?” I smiled. She was way too astute for a little kid, but I guessed this was how life was for a child in a world full of adult influences.
“We’re gonna let Harper sleep in this morning,” I informed her in the same quiet voice.
“Good, then I can have as much bacon and maple syrup on my pancakes as I like,” she replied, conspiratorially. I chuckled softly and lifted her up in my arms.
“Sounds like a plan,” I offered, and she grinned in the way kids do when they’re in cahoots with an adult who’s doing something they shouldn’t.
Taking her downstairs and into the kitchen, I saw that Matty had already set up the coffee machine, and the mixture of the smells of that and fresh pancakes made my stomach grumble.
“My goodness, you’re up early,” Matty stated, narrowing her eyes at me.
