Page 115 of Even After This
“This is nonnegotiable for me.” I fail to wipe the smile off my face. “And if this thing between us goes any further, this issue will be in the prenup.”
His body stiffens. “You would get a prenup?”
As I wrap my arms around his neck, I push up tomy tiptoes and kiss him on the cheek. “Not for money. Just for the vomit clause.”
He growls. “Fine. No vomit hand-holding required.”
“Mmm. I love it when you whisper sweet nothings to me.”
Holding hands, we return to the guesthouse.
I enter the living room, and the heaviness of the day returns.
“Are you sure it’s okay if we stay here?” I ask. “I’m fine if you want to spend time with your family.”
As I slide my coat off, Harlan takes over and hangs it on a hook. “Our big celebration was yesterday, so no one’s expecting us today. But if you need time alone, I can make myself scarce.”
“I just want to veg out on the couch, maybe take a nap.” My eyes are heavy, and I yawn. “Not sure if I have it in me to talk anymore. But if you keep me watered and fed, you can stay.”
“I can do that,” he says. After a quick kiss on the forehead, he bends down and begins to untie and wrangle the hiking boots off my feet.
“I think there’s a John Grisham movie marathon on TBS.” Almost losing my balance at his strong foot tug, I grab his shoulders.
I stand in a mumbling stupor while Harlan sheds his jacket and work boots, then guides me to the couch. He grabs the remote and flips through the satellite channels. Without speaking, he situates me cuddled up against him. My eyes droop as Tom Cruise frantically runs from someone.
The next time I glimpse at the television, the picture glows because the house is dark. But this time, Samuel L. Jackson is in jail. Did I really sleep all day? Shifting to a seated position, I blink and rub my hands over my face. In the glow of the TV, I see a note from Harlan.
Sleeping Beauty, you were out like a light. I left to take care of a few things. Call me when you wake up. H.
Stretching my arms above my head, I stand. The monster nap cleared through the fog of this morning’s grief, and I’m ready to function. I glance around. The open floor plan makes the small kitchen seem more prominent than it is. A refrigerator, dishwasher, stove, and oven line one wall. An island offering extra counter space separates the kitchen from the rest of the house.
My phone charges on a plug next to the stove, and the screen lights up with a text message.
Molly
Thinking of you today. Hope you’re tucked away somewhere safe at Harlan’s ranch.
Holding the phone in my hands, I sigh and stare at the screen.
An olive branch.
A few days ago, I would have broken the twig over my knee and thrown it in the trash. But today is Christmas. And I love my flawed sister.
I’m okay. Love you.
The kitchen is stocked with enough leftovers to feed an army, but I don’t want dinner yet. Just a snack. As I rummage, my thoughts float back to the earlier conversation with Harlan.Dreambig.
I open the refrigerator and stare. A quiet alarm beeps, and it doesn’t stop until I close the door. The fridge doesn’t appreciate how long my musings take.
“You know what I need to dream big?” I walk over to the small pantry and peruse the shelves.
Bingo.
Five boxes of white chocolate–covered Oreos. Harlan remembered.
As I tear open a package, my gaze falls on a pad of Post-it notes located on the counter by a small canister of various writing utensils. I sink my teeth into the first cookie and moan my delight.
But as I chew, I can’t take my eyes off the office supplies.
