Page 1 of The Infiniteness of Yesterday
PROLOGUE
HARLOW
“Harlow?”
I turn around at the sound of his voice. Soft, coaxing, nervous almost.
A gasp erupts from my throat the sight of him kneeling on one knee.
My hand flies up to cover my mouth as my eyes widen.
Shock.
I’m frozen. Suspended in this tiny space of time. One second feels like one minute.
“Jameson?” I mouth his name in question, barely breathing it into existence.
I look at the diamond. It’s large, beautiful, too extravagant. My hand trembles against my mouth, unsteady with nerves and surprise, and … fear too.
Because when my boyfriend proposes to me, my first thought shouldn’t be about the boy I loved—the man I can’t seem to resist no matter how far I try to push him away.
“Harlow, the last two years have been some of the best of my life,” he starts, a nervous smile on his lips. His nearly black hair curls against the collar of his shirt, his brown eyes are anxiousbut happy behind his glasses. “I love you. I love your daughter. I love our life together. Please, say you’ll be my wife?”
I close my eyes, guilt ridden and unable to look at him.
Spencer, my mind whispers to me.What about Spencer?
The man who took all my firsts.
My first kiss.
My first time.
My first love.
But first doesn’t always mean last.
I drop to my knees in front of Jameson, taking his face in my hands as tears course down my cheeks.
I open my mouth, and I answer him.
CHAPTER 1
HARLOW
“Roe, if you don’t get your cute butt out of bed, I’m going to have to do it for you,” I yell down the narrow hall, knowing my six-year-old daughter has heard every single one of my pleas repeatedly, but chooses to ignore them.
For Monroe, sleep is her favorite thing in the world and she’s only six. I don’t know what I’ll do when she’s a teenager.
Spotting the missing pink and purple Skecher tennis shoe halfway under the couch, I scoop it up and then I’m plowing back into her room, setting the shoe beside its mate.
“Up, up, up. Get up,” I chant, opening her closet door to pull out an outfit.
Since she’s not out of bed yet she’s lost the privilege of choosing her own outfit for the day.
“Mom,” she complains in a way too adult voice. “Five more minutes.”
“You said that five minutes ago, Roe. Now get up. You have to brush your teeth and hair, get dressed, and eat breakfast.” I’m exhausted and it’s not even eight in the morning yet, but that’s what you get when you have a kid. “Your dad is coming all the way here to pick you up, the least you can do is be ready.”
