Page 98 of Even After This
Is he ... is he upset with me?
“See?” Molly says. “You’re not ready to spend Christmas with him. He didn’t even know about Stanley.”
“Molly!” At this point, I don’t care if my neighbors hear. I want to completely unleash on my sister.
She stands straighter and returns my stare.
Taking in a deep breath, I close my eyes. “I need you to leave.”
“What did you say?” Her shocked whisper hits me in the gut.
When I open my eyes, I catch a fraction of pain in her face, then it disappears. “I’m asking you to leave,” I say in a tone that she cannot mistake.
With slow movements, she looks at Harlan, then back at me. “I’m just trying to—”
“I know.” I shake my head. “Don’t I know it. You’re just trying to help. But, Molly, I’m just not sure I can take any more of your help. You parade around my life like you’re the grand master, but maybe I don’t want to be in the parade anymore!”
Her face turns crimson and her lip quivers. She pats her hair down, dazed, as if she doesn’t know exactly where she is right now. “Right,” she says to herself. “Right. Somehow, while you went through hell, I kept you alive, and now you’re ungrateful. That makes sense.”
“Watch it,” Harlan says in a low voice.
Molly’s face screws up in an unattractive scowl. “You can’t just insert yourself into Meredith’s life and know what’s best for her.”
“And I’m going to say the same thing to you.” Harlan’s eyes flare, and his voice sounds sinister even though the words are beautiful to me. “If you’ve been paying attention, this has nothing to do with you and everything to do with Meredith.”
“Who do you think you are?” she whispers.
“I’m the man asking you to honor your sister’s wish and leave her house.”
Molly looks at me as if she’s going to say something, then at Harlan as if she knows she shouldn’t. She storms out her exit while Harlan and I stand frozen. She crosses the threshold of the house, and a few seconds later the front door slams.
“Sweetheart,” he says as he steps toward me.
I shoot my hand out. “Just give me a second.” My snapped words stop him short, and I collapse into the deck chair. Leaning my elbows into my knees, face in my hands, I try to use deep breaths to avoid the impending tears. My MO lately has been huge buckets of grief tears. But Harlan won’t recognize these tears. They are stronger-than-dirt, unfiltered anger tears.
He plops in the chair next to me. “Are you okay?”
I raise my head and turn it his direction. “Am I okay?” He can’t miss my infuriated tone. “What was that all about? I don’t mind talking to you about Stanley, but could you do the courtesy of waiting until he leaves to have that discussion?”
Harlan clamps his mouth shut.
“He was Steve’s best man. He’s been trying to push into my life for a while now, and it never felt right to me. And when he told me he had feelings for me a few weeks ago, I made that more than clear to him.” I rest my elbows on my knees and let my hands hang down, feeling my blood pressure returning to normal. “I didn’t tell you, Harlan, because I’m so busy trying to figure out how to walk you through my dead husband and kids that Stanley wasn’teven on my radar. Also, he’s not on my radar because, honey, he’s just noton my radar.” I shift my focus to the yard.
He scores a hand through his hair. “Okay,” he says on a big sigh.
I take a minute to think through everything that just played out in front of Harlan. Lovely.
“Well, that was some good yearslong drama you just got a front-row seat to.” Still staring at the yard, I whisper, “Wanna bail on me?”
“Not on your life.” His answer is immediate, sure. “Still wanna go to Colorado for Christmas with me?”
“Yup.”
In unison, we lean back into our chairs. He holds his hand out for me, and I take it. He squeezes.
“I changed my mind,” I say, my eyes directed to the trees but unfocused. “I think we should go camping. But only under one condition.”
“What’s that?”
