“I don’t give a shit about this,” I say, kicking the box. I kick it again for good measure. “And you aren’t going to move.”
She closes her eyes. “I saw your face when you walked into the dining hall this morning. You can’t stand to be around me. And now when you see me here, you’re going to picture this thing. This smashed up laptop you’ll always associate with me. I have no way to prove I didn’t do it.” She steps away from me until her back hits her apartment door.
“Babe.” I lower my voice and walk across the hall to be closer. “You didn’t. I just know. Today at the senior facility? I wanted to jump over the table and beat Antonio’s pretty face. I came back from the restroom to find you gone. I wanted to tell you that there was going to be trouble.”
“What kind of trouble?”
“Antonio might have all the moves, but I have all the right words.”
She stares at me. “There’s nothing between me and Antonio,” she whispers.
I grab her hand and press it to my chest over my heart. “Feel that? It’s full of all these sappy words I haven’t said. Emotions I couldn’t handle. But I think it took realizing I could lose you. I’m not going to let fear win. I can’t.”
Harper’s lips tremble and she looks away. “I want to believe in you. I do. But it’s too big of a risk.”
“Look at me, Harper. I’m crazy about you. I’m a sure bet. “
She gives me a half-hearted smile. “No. You’re a high-stakes gamble. I did want to trust you before. Now, it’s just too late.”
She turns, enters her apartment, and leaves me standing in the hallway—my world turned gray.
I stretch my arms out above my head. It’s still early, but the sounds of the bakery already drift up through the vents. Today, I begin my new life as a romantic. A hopeful. A believer in forever.
I pull on my clothes and walk downstairs. James is working the counter and Erik is in the back this morning. I examine my choices and my mouth waters.
“Morning. What’ll you have?” James stands poised with a waxed paper ready.
“Cinnamon rolls. Four, please.”
“Coming right up.” He grabs the pastry and a white box. “Did Harper’s friend find her?”
“I don’t know,” I say, getting my wallet out.
“I forget about the new lock. The girl came in saying she was supposed to meet Harper but couldn’t get in. Sorry about that.”
“No problem.” I smile at him. “I’ll let Harper know.”
“Well, good. She said Harper would be really upset if she didn’t get in.” James waves off the bill I attempt to hand him.
I frown. Harper doesn’t get mad at anyone. A tingle travels down my spine. “When was this?”
“Yesterday. The girl asked if she could borrow the key to get in for a few minutes.”
“Did she have dark hair? Tall? Prissy?”
“Yeah,” he says with a chuckle. “Prissy fits. She came back yesterday afternoon and said she’d forgotten to bring me the key back.”
“Uh huh. We’re going to have to get the lock changed.”
“Problem?”
“Yeah. I’ll pay for a locksmith. Are you cool with that? I’ll get it done today and bring you new keys. Also if that girl comes back, call me. No one should be let in.”
“Got it. Sorry if it was a mistake.” James looks to the next person in line.
I eat one roll on the way upstairs. There are some things I need to remedy in my life and Tori is first on my list. I grab a red marker from my apartment and write on the white bakery bag—‘Sweets for the sweet.’
After showering, I tape the bag to Harper’s door. Her words last night cut into my heart. I had expected a second chance. What if she never gives it to me?
I push the negative thoughts away. I have changes to make in my life, beginning now.
It takes forty-five minutes to drive to Tori’s salon. Her doors aren’t open yet, so I wait in a parking space. She’s always late. It shouldn’t surprise me when the front doors don’t open on time.
When I walk inside, Tori sits in a styling chair. She flips through a magazine and doesn’t notice me.
A receptionist greets me. “Good morning. What can we do to help you?”
“Tori,” I say, pointing at her.
Her head pops up. “Leo. What a nice surprise.” She looks around. Two stylists prep their stations. “We can talk privately in the back.”
“No. That’s all right. We can talk here.”
She studies herself in the mirror and fidgets with her ring, spinning it around on her finger. It’s her wedding set. She must wear it sometimes and certainly didn’t expect me to show up today.
“I know you came by the apartment yesterday.” I give her a hard look, my eyes narrowed.
“You’re mistaken,” Tori says.
The girl at the next station glances over curiously. I nod at her and return my attention to Tori.
“If you ever step foot in the building again, I’ll do two things. I’ll call the police, since you will be breaking and entering.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She laughs, her lips tight in a fake smile.
“I’ll also print a column about you and all your lies, every tiny deceitful thing you’ve done, on Mr. Expose. Have you heard of it? I’m Mr. Expose.” I know she has heard of it. Even Good Morning America talked about the popularity of my blog, calling it the new generation of reality television.
I’m no longer ashamed of what I’ve been doing with my writing. It’s print journalism that helps uncover the truth.
Her mouth drops and the other stylists stop what they’re doing.
“So think about it,” I say. “You’ll be the talk of Nashville. Everyone will know what a bitch you are.”
“You wouldn’t.” She takes a couple of steps forward.
“I would.” I turn to the other stylists. “Have a nice day, ladies.”
I turn my back on her and leave, betting she won’t stab me in the back with styling sheers since we have witnesses.
22
Eleventh Hour
Harper
“Fresh baked cinnamon rolls. Yum.” Josie munches on one and licks the sugar from her fingertips. “He wrote you a love note on the bag. Don’t you think this is romantic?”
“Um…no. That’s hardly a love note.” I bite into my own pastry. “Sticking baked goods to my door doesn’t change anything.”
She lowers her chin and looks up at me with sad, puppy eyes. “Come on. Harper. I can vouch for him. He needs a second chance.”
“Second?” I make a scoffing sound. “I appreciate that you love him and want us together, but I can’t do it.”
There’s a deep, stabbing ache in my chest whenever I think about Leo. I look away from Josie so she won’t see it in my eyes. The pastry suddenly tastes bitter and I throw it in the trash.
Josie glances at her cell phone. “What time is your flight?”
“At ten. Thanks for coming by. I guess I’d better head that way.” I grab my purse and suitcase.
Josie throws her arms around me. “Text me. Call me. Whatever.”
“You know I will.” I give her a too-bright smile. It feels odd to be leaving my little apartment and this life I’ve made, even if it’s only for a visit home. “You don’t want to come with me?”
She releases her hold on me and pulls back with a pout on her face. “I can’t leave the bookstore. Or I would.”
“I know. Thanks.”
“For what?”
“For everything. For being a terrific friend.”
I’ve been away from Austin, Texas for four and half years. In that time, nothing has really changed. I guess I expected my hometown to look different somehow.
I maneuver the rental car into a metered parking spot in front of Starbucks. My cell dings with an incoming text as I turn off the motor.