Page 76 of Sins of the Father

The truth is the elephant in the room. It’s the reason we don’t make sense. It’s the rationale for us not to be together. And my heart slowly rips.

“Then tomorrow, you’ll be at work by six thirty and leave at seven and not a minute after.”

“Harper—”

I kiss him with everything I have. When I pull away, I murmur, “Go to sleep. I’ll let you spoon me all night.” I quickly scoot down and turn then kiss his arm.

He doesn’t argue and obeys, holding me and laying his body against my flesh. And it feels like a security blanket.

We fall asleep, and when morning comes, he goes into the gym and works out. When I hear him get in the shower, I get out of bed and heat two plates of lasagna.

He steps into the kitchen, wearing a designer navy suit and light-blue tie, with brown wingtip shoes I’m sure are real Italian leather. His blue eyes aren’t raging red like the previous night, and he looks rested. He kisses me. “You just became the coolest girlfriend ever.”

I freeze.

He doesn’t break my gaze.

“Is that what I am to you?”

“I don’t have all the answers about what we are, but yes. I wouldn’t be sleeping with you if you weren’t. At least, that’s what I want you to be, unless you have an issue with it.”

I hold out my hand. “Give me your phone and punch in the code.”

He doesn’t ask why. He does exactly what I ask while keeping his intense gaze on me.

I program several alarms.

At nine, I write, “Five-minute break. Send Harper a picture.”

At noon, I write, “Call and check on Hope and Harper for five minutes.”

At three, I write, “Text Harper what you’re hungry to eat for dinner.”

At a quarter to seven, I write, “Fifteen minutes before you have to leave.”

At seven, I write, “Leave now or call Harper and tell her you’re running late.”

I schedule it for Monday through Friday and hand him back his phone.

“What did you do?”

“I scheduled me into your life.”

12

Harper

His neutral expressionfills his face. He grips his phone so hard his knuckles turn white.

“When you look at me like that, is it your angry face?” I ask.

“At you? No.”

“I never know what to make of it.”

“Of what?”

“The look on your face right now.” I trace his knuckles. “But this is the first time I’ve seen these turn white.”

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