Page 76 of Dear Ripley

Harlow shrugged, more relaxed than I’d have expected, which I was glad to see. “Maybe, maybe not, but it’s a small enough place that, if she doesn’t, I think we know enough people to look out for me.”

“I think if she continues to do this, we’re going to need something a little more serious than Freddie Young’s stern look and unwillingness to share baked goods,” I said, panicking at the idea of Ellie sticking around Harlow, the baby, and Ripley.

I shook my head, hoping the others would assume it was a reaction to Harlow and not, as it actually was, frustration with myself for how I worried about Ripley—a woman who, by all accounts, was perfectly safe and secure.

Harlow laughed, reaching to pat me on the arm as she moved to get another slice. “I know, don’t worry. I’m just hoping that she’s going to go away after seeing that I’m not interested and never will be.”

“Yeah, you’ve got way better prospects,” Morgan said, and I looked between the two of them to see if there was something they weren’t telling me. However, Harlow looked every bit as confused as I felt.

She laughed. “Do I?”

Morgan looked at her. “Uh, yeah. You absolutely do. The queers love Jackson Point, you’re hot, smart, established, got a cute kid on the way, they’re going to be itching to snap you up.”

Ripley laughed. “Relevant only if you’re looking to chase your ex out of town, and immediately jump into the dating pool, all while you navigate your new life, body, and home.”

Harlow grimaced. “Yeah, no, thank you. I’m looking forward to just being on my own for a little while. The last thing I need is another toxic situation. It’s just going to be me and baby for a while.”

“You and baby, and your excellent friends,” Morgan corrected through a mouthful of food.

Harlow smiled softly. “Yeah. I don’t think there’s any getting rid of the people who go into hiding with you.”

“Definitely not. I mean, you were always stuck with us either way, but sleepover hideouts are fun too.” She looked between me and Ripley as if we explained why Harlow was always going to be stuck with this group.

I felt myself blush and noticed Ripley shaking her head at Morgan again. Part of me wanted it to be true, part of me thought it already was, and part of me hated the Morgan-Harlow double act that seemed hellbent on getting us back together. It had been the four of us once before, and maybe it would be again, but it wouldn’t be with Ripley and me together. I hoped their bids to make it so wouldn’t drive Ripley away, leaving her feeling unable to be friends with me.

Now that we were almost existing as friends again, I honestly didn’t know how I’d made it eight years without her in my life. Whatever came next, I didn’t want to be forced to make it through the next eight without her.

Chapter 26

Ripley

Harlow cornered me in the kitchen as I was getting a glass of water, and just the expression on her face was enough to tell me what she wanted. She was every bit as determined and unoriginal as Morgan. It was frankly irritating.

I sighed. “Yes, Harlow?”

She grinned, clearly pleased with herself. “I mean, you know why I’m here, clearly,” she whispered, keeping the conversation away from Morgan and Alicia, who were still in front of the movie we were all watching—Morgan hadn’t gotten around to sharing The Pretty Gift with everyone just yet.

“I do,” I agreed. “Which begs the question of why we’re still doing this?”

She laughed. “Because, even though you know, you still refuse to do anything. Morgan and I can see what’s right before us, you know?”

“And what might that be?”

“The pizza, the little looks, the sheer sexual tension whenever you two are in the same room…”

I scowled at her. I’d debated for a shamefully short time on whether to order Alicia’s favorite pizza. I could have picked up two generic ones, and that would have been plenty for the four of us. But, I knew what her favorite was, and there was no pretending otherwise—and I wanted to see her happy. I wanted to be the one making her happy.

It was foolish and dangerous and a million other negative adjectives, but it was what I wanted. So I’d ordered the Greek pizza, and I’d watched with delight as she’d realized what I’d done, and as she’d eaten it with such a blissful expression on her face.

Not knowing someone now didn’t erase the things youhadknown about them. That was all it was.

“There are no looks, and there’s definitely no sexual tension. Are you kidding?” I insisted.

She shook her head indulgently. “I am sure that’s what you try to tell yourself when you lie awake at night, thinking of her, but here, in reality, it’s so obvious that you two just need to talk it all out.”

I scoffed. “Yes, because we’re so good at talking to each other.”

We’d been in the same room for hours now, and we’d said significantly more through loaded little looks, and the ways we avoided looking at each other than we had out loud.

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