Page 34 of Even After This
While Harlan rings downstairs, I stride to the bathroom, push the door closed, then dare to peek in the mirror. The grief hangover doesn’t look as rough as I thought it might. My head feels swollen like a tight balloon, but only my eyes are puffy. My typical post-sobbing headache is minimal, helping me save my supply of ibuprofen.
I start to powder my nose while I eye my lip gloss. If I apply a thin coat, will it look like I’m trying too hard?
“They’re going to bring us a hamburger and a chicken salad something-or-other for dinner,” Harlan calls to me. “You can pick what you want, and I’ll eat the rest.”
It sounds like furniture is being moved, and Harlan keeps talking as if what separates us isn’t a bathroom door. “I thought about bringing a pizza, but we ate pizza last night. Man can’t live by pepperoni alone.”
Forgoing the lip gloss, I opt to run a brush through my mangled hair. “You’ve single-handedly crushed the teenage population with that statement. Your fans will stone you for blasphemy.”
“Good.” He chuckles. “Then maybe they’ll leave me alone.”
His response intrigues me, but I can’t focus on that direction.
The elephant in the room reminds me that I went against Harlan’s wishes and brought an animal home from the zoo. Only this elephant is Harlan’s history with a five-foot, nine-inch beauty who happens to be his daughter’s mother.
Opening the double doors to the bathroom, I note the makeshift dining area Harlan set up in the corner. While this is a kind gesture, he needs to leave.
“Harlan, I’m sure you had other plans tonight. You’re not obligated to check up on me. I’m fine.” I wring my hands, knowing I buried the lede, then take a breath. “And I’m embarrassed. I’m sorry you had to deal with all of ... that.”
“Okay, good.” Not looking at me, he moves the Broadmoor Hotel literature from the table to the coffee bar. “Let’s tackle this head-on.” He shifts to step toward me and holds my eyes in his. “First of all, I don’t want to be anywhere else tonight.”
Oh.
Oh.What just happened?
“Second. Meredith, you have nothing to be embarrassed about.” He runs a hand through his hair but stops when it reaches the back of his head. “I’m trying to find a way to apologize to you.”
I spiral the drawstring at the bottom of my hoodie around my forefinger. “Why would today be your responsibility?”
“I shouldn’t have asked you to babysit Alex.” I want to protest, but he puts a hand up. “She had a wonderful time. But I was so focused on my stupid meeting, I didn’t think through the entire situation. I know your history, and Olivia’s fangs are no secret. I never should have put you in that position.”
A pang shoots through my gut. The reality hits me that he knows some version of what happened today with Olivia.
But it doesn’t matter. I need him to know this wasn’t his fault.
“Harlan, please understand. I don’t need a reason for an episode like today. My husband and two children died in a terrible accident. That’s enough to make me go to the Bad Place at any given moment. I’m just embarrassed you had a front-row seat.”
He stares back at me but says nothing.
“And,” I say, “you can’t take on the behavior choices of the mother of your child. My presence triggered her, and she operated out of fear and insecurity. I get that.”
“But, Meredith,” he says, his voice apologetic, almost in agony, “what she said to you.”
The memory of her words tries to take another stab at me, and I cringe.
His arm sweeps to the window, and he points outside. “I ran up the mountain to find you the second she told me.”
He ran up the mountain. To find me. And now he’s in my room. To check on me.
I’m frozen in confusion, but the knock on the door causes me to jump out of my thoughts.
Harlan squeezes my arm as he walks past me toward the door. “Room service.”
“They’re sure fast,” I mumble to the spot he touched.
He opens the door, signs the bill, and pulls in a cart. “I had the food on standby because I didn’t know how tonight would play out.” He picks up a covered dish. “Do you want the burger or the salad?”
“The hamburger?”
