Page 117 of Choosing Us

“I know. Rehearsals really pick up in the next week, but I made sure to block the entire holiday, and also, I don’t have anything until tomorrow afternoon in case I have a little too much fun tonight.” Tinsley winks. “We finalized what dancers will be joining me for the first leg of the tour, and probably the whole thing, but we will see.”

“You have enough planning on your plate with everything!” Our small wedding is nothing compared to the logistics she is facing daily right now. Tinsley waves away my concerns.

She reaches over and takes my hand. “I will always have time and space for my people, Harlow. Always.”

I try to blink away the tears that dare to fall. “That means more than I can even say, Tinsley. Thank you.”

“Well, there goes my mascara!” Savannah fans her eyes. “You two have had quite the road to our family, but damn, I’m so glad you are both here.” She pulls me into a hug as Tinsley slides off the chair and joins on the other side.

“I have no context, but I am not getting left out!” Vivian cries from the porch door as she rushes over and joins the group hug.

“The context is that we are so happy to have these two ladies in our family,” Savannah tells her sister.

“See? I knew it was good. And I agree. I’m so glad y’all chose our stinky brothers to fall for.”

“It was never a choice for me. It was always Jack,” Tinsley replies.

“I may not have a childhood crush as a foundation,” I say as Tinsley giggles. “But Ryan chose me just as much as I chose him.”

“Maybe Liam isn’t the only genius in our family?” Vivian jokingly asks.

“No, he’s not. We have Harlow now, too,” Savannah says as she squeezes me in another hug.

I can only nod as the emotions threaten to break my composure completely.

Ryan gave me so much more than just himself in our relationship—he gave me an entire family.

CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE

Reaching into the top drawer of my desk, I pull out the little gift I’ve been hiding from Harlow. I wanted to mark the first day of the month with a small gesture that I know she’ll love. I shut the drawer and hold the present behind my back as I walk to the kitchen. The well-balanced and distinct smell of her favorite roast reaches me before I get there.

“Do you want a coffee, babe?” Harlow calls out over her shoulder as I pause in the doorway. The television in the living area is playing national news where large text scrolling across the bottom of the screen reads, ‘The Carnation Killer,’ as Graham Tremblay’s face fills the screen in our home. But before I can do anything, Harlow raises her pointer finger and reaches for the remote on the counter, then turns the news off.

Graham Tremblay has been in federal custody since his arrest three months ago and has been committed for psychiatric evaluation. He was recently declared competent enough to stand trial for his crimes, despite the many psychopathic tendencies and behaviors the man has. Harlow has informed me I can’t just call him a crazy asshole, so I just choose other words to describe him.

I can’t decide if I’m relieved or annoyed that the case is moving forward.

National media has latched on to the nickname of The Carnation Killer—a sensational detail that I know annoys Harlow because it fans the attention of the criminal, instead of focusing on justice for the victims.

Graham’s attorney has reached out to Harlow to request that she speak on his behalf in the upcoming trial, but Harlow has denied that request, along with the multiple requests Graham attempted to make himself to her directly. Thankfully, Walker ensured those requests will not continue by making a few calls, but the fact that Graham even thought he had the right to ask anything of Harlow shows how out of touch with reality the man is. Harlow has made it abundantly clear that she will only be speaking on behalf of the prosecution and if called upon in a professional capacity due to her job.

“I have been dependent on caffeine for years, and I still can’t believe I went this long without trying Columbian coffee beans. Do you think Liam can get us another bag? Or we may need to find our own source, huh? We may have been lucky with the three bags he already got us.” She grins as she pours me a cup.

When I was in the hospital in June, Liam dropped off multiple bags of Columbian coffee beans to my house before I was discharged. He didn’t say he personally got them in Columbia, but he also didn’t not say that, which is how things usually work with my brother. I didn’t get the big hype, but Harlow loves them—therefore, this will be the coffee bean we buy until she decides she wants something else.

“I’ll ask him, but I’m sure we can find a way to get them, unless these were like a special roast or something?” I turn the bag over and see the website of the company. “I’ll check it out.”

“I’d appreciate that, thank you. Here you go.” She hands me a cup of fresh coffee with a splash of vanilla creamer. I didn’t used to add creamer, but one day, I accidentally picked up her cup and discovered I am a vanilla creamer fan.

She just keeps making my life sweeter and better.

“And these are for you,” I declare as I reveal my other hand that was still behind my back holding a bouquet of yellow number two pencils wrapped in a pale blue bow.

Harlow claps her hands in delight before taking the bouquet. “Newly sharpened pencils! Oh my gosh, this is so sweet. How did you remember that?”

I set my coffee on the counter as I wrap an arm around her and pull her into me. “When we watched the movie the other month, you mentioned it was the sweetest idea, so I made a note in my phone.”

“One of these days, I am going to want to see these notes you keep,” she teases.