Page 205 of The Doctors Will See You Now

Literally, my mind mocked mercilessly.

Breaking into a jog, I weaved my way through the people scattered on the sidewalk and bounded up the stairs behind her two at a time.

Her eyes widened, and her face grew longer before my eyes as her mouth did the same.

“Scott?”

“Hey, Low,” I greeted casually. Far, far more casually than I felt, my heart beating so violently I thought it might jump straight out of my chest and land on the stoop in front of me.

“What are you doing here?”

I swallowed the thickness in my throat and concentrated on getting inside first. “I’m sorry to surprise you like this, but…can we talk? It’s important.”

Her face serious—seriously worried—she turned back to the lock and finished the job, pushing the door open and holding it for me. “Of course. Come in.”

We walked in silence up two flights of stairs to what I presumed was her door. As she inserted another key into that lock and turned it, I immediately felt sick.

She pushed it open, and as soon as the light of the hall sliced into the small entry of her apartment, my admission poured unchecked from my lips.

“I followed you.”

Her eyebrows pulled together as she stepped inside and I followed her, almost as if she hadn’t heard me.

Strengthening my resolve to make sure it was all out in the open—every fucking last bit of it—I repeated myself. “I said, I followed you. Here. To your apartment.”

“You fucking followed me? From where? How? I don’t understand.”

“Yes. From the restaurant. You told me where you were. Not understanding is definitely reasonable, and I’m sorry,” I rattled off, addressing each of her questions as well as I could.

“But this was a conversation I needed to have in person.” She didn’t know what conversation I was talking about, but flustered, I rushed past that detail. “And you’ve been cagey about where you live for no reason, Harlow.”

She glared and took three rapid steps to the end of the hall that led into her living room, but I kept on. “I know what I did today isn’t healthy. I know it’s fucking ridiculous, okay? But I put my dick in you on the regular! How can you not trust me enough to know where you live?”

“Whoops. Excuse us.” Mystified, we both swiveled our heads immediately to the couch.

“Dad?” Harlow screamed just as I caught sight of my mom’s bare breasts.

“Oh Jesus Christ,” I cried.

“What are you doing here?” she shouted toward them—our parents, our fucking naked parents.

What was happening?

And more than that, it appeared everyone else knew where she lived to the point of using her place for conjugal fucking visits.

“I guess other people know where you live,” I muttered softly, but she heard me. Oh, the death rays burning from her eyes were proof of that. Meanwhile, Bill was covering himself and my mother with a blanket.

“Scott,” Harlow snapped. “Not now. Jesus Christ, one thing at a time, okay?”

And she was right, obviously. The naked parents on the couch took precedence, so I did my best to shut the fuck up.

“Dad,” Harlow said again, gritting her teeth in search of patience. “What are you doing here? Naked? On my fucking couch?”

I reached out and squeezed her shoulder in support, but she shook it off.

I guessed that was fair too.

“We’re supposed to meet your mother and Jean-Pierre soon. A stroll through Central Park.”