Page 103 of The Infiniteness of Yesterday
“It was just a kiss,” I defend. My shoulders curl inward like perhaps I can close myself away in a shell. “It didn’t mean anything.”
She frowns, blinking at me like she’s just waiting for me to get it through my head that I have to tell him. “He deserves to know. Wouldn’t you want to know?”
I cringe. When she puts it like that, yes, I would want to know.
It feels like the walls of my throat are closing in when I swallow. “I don’t want to ruin this,” I confess softly. “Jameson is … he’s so good. I love him so much.”
“And that’s exactly why you have to tell him.”
I drop my head and mutter, “I hate it when you’re right.”
She laughs softly. “You must hate me a lot.” She throws in a wink. Clearing her throat, she asks, “Does the kiss have you confused?”
I press my lips into a flat line. I don’t want to answer that question. It’s one thing to keep it in my thoughts. It’s a whole other voice it out loud.
“Harlow?” she prompts, like maybe I haven’t heard her.
I give a jerky nod.
“Oh, Harlow,” she breathes out.
“I shouldn’t be confused, should I?” I blurt out. “I should’ve shoved him away. It shouldn’t feel like this.” I gesture with my arms, trying to show how it’s all too much.
“You have history,” she replies softly. “That makes a difference.”
I cover my face with my hands, and the first few tears leak out.
“Oh, Harlow,” she breathes. “I wish I could hug you right now.”
“What have I done?” I ask, but I don’t expect her to answer. The door to the apartment creaks open and I drop my hands. “I’ve gotta go.”
“Tell him,” she mouths before I end the video call.
Jameson steps inside with the first few buttons of his shirt undone and his hair a bit wild like he’s had a rough day and has constantly run his fingers through it. He holds a fresh bouquet of flowers in his hand and it’s like a stab to the heart.
“Were you on the phone?” he asks, locking up behind himself. He drops his messenger bag off his shoulder and sits it on the barstool before he crosses the room to kiss me. “You’re crying.”
“Yeah, with Willa,” I answer.
His face drops. “Is she okay?”
I nod. “Yeah, yeah. She’s fine.”
He sets the flowers on the coffee table and sits beside them so he’s in front of me. His hands find my knees, rubbing his thumbs in gentle circles. “What’s wrong, baby?”
I squeeze my eyes shut.
I have to tell him.
I take a deep breath and open my eyes. “Spencer and I kissed.”
“Okay?” It comes out as a question. “Like … recently?”
I wipe at my damp cheeks. “Yes.”
He nods and his Adam’s apple bobs as swallows. “Who initiated it?”
I know this man, I know he’s not the type to shout and scream and throw shit, but even with that knowledge I’m still surprised that he’s so calm.
