Page 44 of The Truth of Us

I stared at him, feeling overwhelmed and that irrational, unhinged feeling creeping up. "Do you ever tire of asking questions you already know the answers to?"

"Not really." He said with a shrug.

I leaned back in my chair and, because apparently I enjoyed suffering, I said, "What if she says no..." The words died before I finished them.

Caleb studied me, and I wished he would have laughed or done anything else. But unfortunately, he looked sympathetic.

"You didn’t hear her when she called, worried about you on your birthday. I think you're underestimating her."

That wasn't the problem, the problem was that I wasn't sure I really knew her, so many unanswered questions floated around us and even though she had let me in, even though she had crossed every boundary she set… she was still closed off, still hiding something and somehow that bothered me more every day.

The strangest part was how normal everything had become, domestic even. What started with PR dinners and events turned into texts and late-night conversations. Then somehow we became that couple who ate off ‌each other's plates, ordered different things so we could both try something new, without ever making that decision out loud. Then I found more and more of her things at my place, like the stack of books on my coffee table.

And then one day I discovered my apartment felt empty when she wasn't in it.

I didn't know when it happened; I just knew that somewhere between the first day of our arrangement and now, Harper Lane had become my favorite part of the day.

Another problem was that as I was scrambling to figure out a way to keep her, the closer we got to the end of our arrangement, Harper’s walls were building back up around her, and I hated it.

Thursday arrived faster than I expected. Harper stood near the elevator in one of those fitted coats she wore that probably cost more than most people's cars.

She was leaving for the weekend for a personal commitment. A mysterious personal commitment. One she refused to explain. Which absolutely did not bother me, not even slightly.

"You're staring at me, Elliot."

I blinked, and Harper smirked.

"I was thinking." I said, and even to me my voice sounded low and cautious.

She stepped closer and adjusted my tie. Another habit she'd somehow developed. Another problem, but then something flickered in her ice-blue eyes, like she was reminding herself of something, she shook her head, just slightly, like she didn’t even realize she was doing and made to pull her hand away when I covered it with mine, keeping her there.

I looked down at her, taking her in, hating that this was how our arrangement ended.

How has it been a month already?

"When do you get back?" I asked, feeling foolishly nervous.

She took a deep breath and replied, "Late Saturday. Or very early Sunday, depending on how you look at it."

Something tightened unexpectedly in my chest, so I obviously ignored it.

"I would offer to pick you up…."

Harper cut me off with, “That isn’t necessary.”

But I continued anyway, adding, “But the Northwell Holiday event is Saturday and it usually goes late.”

"I know." She said, and then stepped back.

I immediately missed her closeness, her hands on me, so I blurted out, "Meet me after."

Her brows lifted in question, "After?"

"When you get back, don’t go home… come here."

She studied me carefully, the way she always did when she suspected I was hiding something.

Harper sighed out my name, "Elliot."