Page 67 of Letters of Faith
When we get out into the hallway, Harper’s smile drops from her face, and she stomps in front of me and out the door. She’s waiting for me by my apartment door when I get outside. Hurrying across the driveway, I pull the key out of my pocket and unlock the door. She steps through without a word.
The scene is a strange déjà vu of the night of the anniversary of Nate’s death. Harper walks around the apartment, making herself athome as she picks stuff up and turns it over.
“It looks oddly clean in here,” she comments.
“Yeah, Harper. That’s what happens when you clean.”
“Or don’t stay here,” she mumbles under her breath.
I’d been pulling the pies out of the oven, but at her words, I set them on the counter and spin around to face her. “You know what, Harper. I’ve let a lot go with you because I’ve felt sorry for you, but I’m done. You and I are going to settle this right now.”
“I don’t know what you mean.” Her voice is sickly sweet. It sounds like a warning, but I ignore it.
“You know exactly what I mean. You’re mean—actually, you’re more than mean. Sometimes, you’re just nasty to me, and I’ve never figured out why. So let’s get it out now and put it past us so we both feel better because I’m tired.”
She scoffs and rolls her eyes. “Oh, little Miss Perfect, who everyone loves, is tired because one person chooses not to like her. That must be so rough for you. Let me see if I can cry you a river, or better yet, let me see if I can burst that bubble of yours—Grayson’s dating you because my brother asked him to. You’re right. I do feel better.”
She drops that bomb in my lap and walks away like she didn’t just turn my whole world upside down in a matter of seconds, but she doesn’t get far before I’m running after her and grabbing her arm.
“Stop. You aren’t going anywhere. Explain what you mean by that because, from where I’m standing, you just look jealous. Where’s your husband, Harper? Oh, that’s right, he’s out of town with ‘friends’ again.” I throw air quotes around the word friend because she’s used that excuse for Cole a couple of times now, and each time she does, it gets thinner and thinner.
“Oh, honey. I am not jealous of you. If you don’t believe me, ask Grayson about the letter from my brother.”
My face visibly pales at the mention of a letter from Nate. My gripon her arm loosens, and my stomach roils, threatening to send back up the food I just ate. Harper must see that she struck a nerve because a slow, sarcastic smile spreads across her lips. The letters are Nate’s MO I’ve been receiving my own for months, but when did Grayson get one? And why didn’t he tell me about it? The sick feeling in my stomach continues to build.
“Are we done with our little talk now?” Harper asks, pure glee filling her voice as she watches me.
I refuse to cry in front of her, so I nod, swallowing hard as she gathers the pies in her hands and leaves.
“Good chat,” she calls over her shoulder while I’m left wondering how my life just got flipped upside down once again.
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I’m cleaning up the rest of the kitchen and putting away leftovers when Grayson walks in.
After dessert, my mom and dad left first, followed by Harper and Ellie. Harper gave me a self-satisfied, smug smile as she got up from the table to leave. After a while, Grayson’s family followed suit.
I remained quiet all through the rest of the dinner. I could feel Grayson’s eyes on me while we ate, but I couldn’t bring myself to look at him. No—I need to be calm and collected so I can talk to him.
There’s an explanation for what Harper said. There has to be. If Nate sent him a letter, there’s no way it told Grayson to date me. Maybe Nate had asked Grayson to take care of me once he was gone, and Harper saw it somehow and misconstrued it. But, then, why did he hide it? When Grayson admitted to having feelings for me, he’d said he had loved me his whole life, but what if he was just saying that? What if his obligation to Nate meant he felt he had to lie to me?
My knees nearly buckle at the thought, and I tighten my grip on the countertop to keep from falling over.
Counting, I find five things I can see, four things I can touch, threethings I can hear, two things I can smell, and one thing I can taste. When I’m done with the exercise, my nerves are only marginally calmer, but it’s enough that I can think.
Harper is bitter. That’s a fact that I’ve never questioned, and it also goes to say that she likes hurting me. So—maybe she twisted whatever she saw to hurt me. It’s a reasonable thought. Grayson has never given me a reason to question him, and I owe it to him to let him explain.
“You okay?” he asks, taking the food from my hand and putting it in the refrigerator.
“Not really. Can we sit?” I ask.
His brows dip and concern as he studies my face, looking for any signs of the problem, but when he doesn’t find anything, he nods and leads me over to the bar—a place where we seem to have all our important conversations lately. What’s one more to add to the mix?
“What is it, Georgia? You’re starting to scare me. What happened with Harper? You started acting differently once you came back with her.”
I cross my legs and then uncross them, trying to get comfortable so that I can just ask him, but I realize that this whole situation is uncomfortable. I’m just going to have to spit it out.
“Did Nate write you a letter?”
