Page 100 of Even After This
Giggling, I lie down, hugging a throw pillow and keeping Harlan’s face in my sights while I pull up the movie.
“Ready?” he asks. When I nod, he says, “Hit play.”
A few minutes into the movie, I glance down at Harlan. He’s propped on his elbow, staring at me.
I smile. “Are you watching the movie?”
“Nope. I found something better to watch.”
And then I melt.
A week later, he orders me dinner to be delivered to my house. We were to receive our food at the same time and eat it over FaceTime together. Virtual date night.
I thought it would just be casual takeout. But Claire shows up dressed in all black with a long white apron, will not say a word to me, and sets up beautiful white linens, fine china, and exquisite crystal.
“You’re seriously not going to talk to me?” I ask, arms folded, watching her in my dining room.
“I’m following my instructions,” she says, unable to contain the grin on her face.
“He told you not to talk to me?”
“He told me not to steal the show,” she says while lining up the silverware like a professional.
I laugh out loud. “He’s a quick learner.”
“He is. And I respect that about him.” She pulls out a silver crumber to smooth over the table and ensure the presentation is pristine. “I also respect Penelope, by the way. She set this entire operation up, and I’m pretty sure she could run the country if asked.”
“And it would probably be easy for her,” I murmur. Harlan’s assistant has proven herself to be a gem—not that she needed to. She just does it naturally. And she has become someone I hope I get to spend more time with.
ABBA announces to me that Harlan is calling, and I hit the screen to accept the FaceTime call. When I see his beautiful face, I say, “You told me to wear sweatpants and then brought in formal tableware.”
“Let me see those sweats.” I show him, and he whistles. “You look comfortable.”
I laughed. “What have you done?”
“I’m providing you with a fine-dining experience while you get to be in comfy pants.”
“You’re my dream man.”
His voice lowers. “Working on it.”
Two days later, little Alex is live on my phone screen. Face scrunched up in concentration, she stares down at the playing pieces to Candy Land.
We don’t want to overwhelm her with my presence in her life, so this is a first step to easing me naturally into the conversation.
So far, our Candy Land playdate is not going as planned.
“I want pink,” she says.
I heave a dramatic sigh. “Me too,” I say sympathetically.
Harlan moves his phone so I can see his face. “Are we going to be able to get over this?”
“I don’t think so,” I say. “The color of your playing piece is just too important. I’m with Alex on this one. We want pink.”
He raises his eyebrows and says in an amused tone, “I don’t think I saw this coming.”
I shrug, loving the dramatics. “Do you have something else in the house that we could try to use for playing pieces? Preferably pink?”
