Page 75 of Even After This
Harlan’s blank-faced stare locks on me.
I swallow and shift my gaze to my mom.
“I hope you changed the bedding for Hercules. Greek gods shouldn’t sleep on floral Laura Ashley sheets.” My mother winks at me while everyone releases the tension with laughter.
But when I glance at Molly, she stares at me with enigmatic eyes. This doesn’t bode well.
“Come on, Harlan. Let’s go sort the change.” I nod in the direction of the guest room.
“Save yourself,” Michael says, while at the same time, without taking his eyes off the Cowboys game, my dad says, “Send up a flare when you get bored.”
Harlan enters the guest room behind me. “What have I gotten myself into?”
Funny. I was just thinking the same thing myself. There’s a low-level pressure system between Harlan and me that I don’t want to address. It feels like it’s either going to turn into a storm or simmer out, unaddressed. I don’t like either forecast. I want to know what he’s thinking and why he’s here.
Instead, I decide to keep to the topic at hand. “Every year, my family collects all their spare change. We pool it together, split the total, and that’s our shopping budget for Black Friday.”
Harlan’s eyes widen at the jars on the bed. They vary in size, but each family member has their own glass container with their name painted on the top. “Where did you get this idea?”
I sigh. “With all of this stupid money from Steve’s insurance policies, suddenly there were no spending boundaries. I know it sounds weird, but there has to be a limit. It’s not reality that someone gets to buy whatever they want, whenever they want. Spare change sets my limit for post–Thanksgiving Day shopping.” I shrug. “My family decided to join me.”
Expressionless, Harlan blinks.
“However, they are total slackers when it comes to the actual coin conversion.” Returning Harlan’s stare, I gnaw on my lip. “What?”
“That is oddly refreshing.” He steps toward me and takes on a serious tone. “So, when I got here, I just dove into Thanksgiving with your family. But it feels like maybe we need to talk.”
Apparently he feels the tension too. Of course he does. I think the fact that he wants to talk about it should be a good thing, but the pit in my stomach doesn’t want to go anywhere near that conversation.
I glance to the door of the bedroom and nod in the direction of my family. “Maybe not here?”
He nods slowly, assessing. “Okay. Then what’s next for these coins? This sounds like it might be fun.”
I glance down at the bed, my stomach relieved we aren’t talking about us, but still holding a knot of tension knowing that discussion is coming. Maybe our errand will smooth things over.
“Yeah, well, you might not think so after loading and unloading these jars.” I pick up the smallest container of coins. “Let’s go, Hercules. Show me what you can do. We’re loading up and headed to Walmart.”
With a wry smile, Harlan leans over to grab the two largest jars. His broad, muscular shoulders strain his shirt.
As I enjoy the scenery, I realize I’m brilliant. Ask the in-shape, beautiful man to lift heavy things. Suddenly I’m overwhelmed with the need to rearrange the furniture in my entire house.
Harlan breaks me out of my trance. “Lead the way, sweetheart.”
The endearment causes my gut to clench and brings me back to reality. What is going on? Are we acting like this is normal? Is he going to bring up Olivia or am I?
As we drive, the leaky question faucet drips and drips, the pooling water threatening to break the dam holding back my anxiety.
Once we arrive at Walmart, Harlan pulls his frayed, faded ball cap low over his brow. He hops out of the car to grab a cart, then grins at me. “Let’s load up the booty.”
“What did you say about my booty?” My mouth had a mind of its own with that question, and I slap a hand over it before it says anything else without proper censoring.
Harlan stops the cart, throws his head back, and laughs.
The view is so mesmerizing, it erases my embarrassment. I giggle, shoulders shaking. “Sorry.” I pick up one of the change jars and place it in the corner of the cart. “You don’t have to go in the store if you don’t want to. But, just saying, you’ll miss the best part.”
“What’s the best part?” He does that attractive lifting-heavy-things act again, and I mentally applaud myself for bringing him.
“Watching the coins go down the chute, as the total gets higher and higher.” I lift Mom’s jar and place it in the opposite corner. “Total rush.”
