Page 38 of In Love with Lewis Prescott
“Oh. Well, um, even with the ceiling being reinforced, when I looked at the crystals, I realized they would have added too much weight. I figured it would be fine to hang it like it is.”
Still nothing. Just more staring at the chandelier, a dazed look on her face.
“I still think it looks cool without the crystals, though,” I say. “Like a bronze sculpture.”
She finally pivots her gaze to me. Her eyes are swollen, and there’s a slight wrinkle in her brow that makes her look confused and sad all at once.
“Sorry, I guess I should have told you before I hung it up. But I wanted it to be a surprise...”
I trail off as I notice her chin wobbling. Those full, bee-stung lips start to tremble, and her face scrunches as tears stream down her cheeks.
“Lewis, I need...the crystals need to be on the chandelier. They’re the whole point... My grandma...that box of crystals...she spent so many years collecting and storing them in that box... She was saving them for when she could remodel the house and find the perfect chandelier to hang them...”
Her voice, which has been straining the entire time she spoke, breaks completely. A sob squeaks out of her as she covers her face.
Instinctively I close the space between us, wrap my arms around her, and hug her to my chest. She tugs at the fabric of my T-shirt, like she’s desperately trying to hold on.
“Hey. It’s okay.” I say it softly, hoping that I’m at least some bit of comfort.
My sweat-soaked T-shirt absorbs each tear as she shakes against me. I hug her tighter, heartened when she slides her arms around my waist. It feels a lot like permission, like her body is telling me it’s okay that I’m holding her even though I didn’t ask first...even though we’ve never touched each other like this.
By the time she calms down, I know what’s bothering her is more than just the chandelier. Anxiety grabs hold of my heart, like a massive invisible bat thrashing through my chest. Just the thought of something or someone upsetting Harper this badly has me wild with worry...and some primal need to protect her.
“I’m sorry, Lewis. I’m so sorry. What you did was so thoughtful. I must look like a lunatic.” She sniffles as she stays pressed against my chest.
“You’re not. I don’t think that at all.” I tuck her head under my chin and rest my palm on the back of her head. “What happened?”
Her breath heats against my shirt, my skin. And then her hands fall away from me, and she takes a step back. My body goes cold at the loss of contact.
She crosses her arms over her chest, like she’s attempting to close herself off from me, but that’s the last thing I want.
I gently grab her hand and lead her to the couch, which we finally put back into the living room when we finished relaying the flooring the other day.
She plops down on one end. I walk to the kitchen and grab her a glass of water. When I hand it to her, she says, “Thanks,” and I sit down on the other end of the sectional.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I ask.
She murmurs “yes” after gulping some water.
“I was helping one of the clients at Glad You’re Here apply for an apartment, and some asshole leasing agent made a racist comment in front of her.”
I listen as patiently as I can, but when she tells me what the guy said, I bite down so hard, I fully expect my jaw to shatter.
“God, that’s so fucked-up. Harper, I... I don’t even know what to say. I’m sorry.”
“I was so angry that I told the guy off and reported him to the Better Business Bureau. And I called the corporate leasing office for his company and complained about him. And I left a scathing public review of the leasing agency on Facebook specifically naming him. And when I got back to the Glad You’re Here office, I told Diana what happened. That apartment complex is now on the ‘do not contact ever’ list. But the fact that there even has to be a list is a testament to how much work we still have to do in fighting for equality.”
“You fought hard today, Harper. I’m proud of you.”
When I see the corner of her mouth curve up, the pressure in my chest eases the slightest bit. She downs the rest of the water in her glass. I offer to fetch her another, but she says no thanks, and after a few quiet moments, she aims those doe-like brown eyes up at me. It feels like an arrow piercing straight through me. Seeing the redness in her normally focused and bright stare makes me physically ache.
“I’m sorry I freaked out about the chandelier,” she says before glancing over at it once more. “Thank you for thinking to do that. It really does look nice. I just...”
When her lips start to tremble again, I reach over and take her hand in mine. “Hey. You don’t have to apologize for anything, okay?”
She nods quickly, her eyes gleaming. When she squeezes my hand back, that pressure in my chest intensifies.
“It’s just...hearing that guy say those horrible things about Mina triggered a memory when I was little of when I’d be out with my grandparents. Sometimes they’d speak Ilocano to each other, and someone would mutter horrible things to them, like how they should learn some English or how annoying foreigners are.”
