IT DOESN’T TAKE me long to figure out what’s wrong with Harriet’s pipe.
I inch out of the cupboards and find her staring at me. Her hands are clasped together like she’s waiting for the results of a blood test. Sweat glistens on her forehead. Damp splotches coat her soft cotton shorts and T- shirt.
“Is it really bad?” She winces.
“Kind of. Do you happen to have a wrench?”
A bright smile stretches across her face. It’s so beautiful that I can’t help but meet it with a smile of my own.
“Ever since I met Doc, I’ve been noticing wrenches everywhere I go.” She spins and her long hair flails behind her. “Give me a minute.”
While she’s gone, I glance around the small apartment. It reminds me of our first place. Hell, it’s a step up from that. Back then, I didn’t have much money. I had a dream and a hustle. When I met Harriet, she helped me turn that hustle into an empire.
New money. Black cards. I dragged her out of spaces like this. Walls with ugly paint. Outdated appliances. Cramped living spaces that bled into kitchens and bathrooms. Why would she run back to this?
My heart stutters from guilt. Was I so terrible that she’d choose to return to filth and poverty rather than stay in my castle? Did I break her so much that she’d choose this willingly when she has rights to everything money could buy?
Harriet walks into view, her hips swaying gently. “Here you go. Will this work?”
My fingers close around the wrench. It’s the exact replica of Doc’s, except Harriet’s one shines like a fresh penny. Doc’s wrench is caked in grease and engine fluid.
“Thank you for doing this.” Her voice is quiet. Slender fingers rub against the hem of her shirt.
“If you’re really grateful, then feed me.”
“Oh. So that’s why you came over here?” Harriet smirks. I love the casually flirtatious edge to her words. Love the carefree way she stoops beside me, leaning her head forward as she peers into the cupboards.
Our eyes catch and hold. My heart does a strange flip.
Harriet blinks rapidly and backs away. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to get in your space.”
“I don’t mind.” I grab ahold of her hand to keep her there and offer her my phone. “Can you turn on the light?”
“I need your password,” Harriet says.
My body freezes. I have messages from Ashley. Pictures of my exes. Videos that should remain locked away. Sitting up again, I take the phone from her, punch in my password and turn on the flashlight. The strong beam tears through the shadows and illuminates the pipes under the sink.
Harriet’s smile cracks into pieces. “Why didn’t you just give me the password?”
I don’t like the way her words curl around me like an accusation. I don’t like the beads of sweat that grow on my neck and slide down the space between my shoulder blades. I especially don’t like the lie that springs to my lips and has to be swallowed back.
Rather than answer, I slide into the cupboard and work on fixing her pipe. It doesn’t take me long and, as soon as I’m done, I retrieve my phone from Harriet and lock it.
She remains crouched on the ground, brown arms wrapped around her legs.
Slipping into repair mode, I survey the rest of her apartment. The light in the living room is dull. My attention focuses there. “Do you need me to change that light?”
She looks up, not at me but at the ceiling fan. “One of the bulbs stopped working. That’s why it looks so dark.”
“Do you have an extra?”
She nods sadly and seems to take a deep breath before forcing a neutral expression.
I wipe my hands against the side of my pants. “Let me change that for you.”
“You don’t have to,” she says, her voice cracking on the end.
“I know.” I wait until she looks up. Until our gazes meet the way they were always meant to. “Let me be your handyman.”
That barely earns me a smile.
She plods away, her eyes heavy and thoughtful.
I try to linger around her, but everything works against me. I change the light bulb too quickly. The pipe stopped leaking. Nothing else needs fixing.
I’m not ready to go. I’m not ready to drive back to an empty house that still smells like her favorite candles. Can’t bear to water her prized roses when I know they miss her loving touch.
Harriet has been rejecting my dinner invitations all week. Flowers get tossed into trashcans and food gets left behind, unopened. I’m at my wit’s end and this is the closest she’s allowed me to get in ages. There’s no way I’m walking away from it.
“Let me finish cleaning this up.” I charge into the kitchen where there’s still water on the floor.
“Jerrison, I’ve got it.” She scrambles for the handle of the mop. I twist it out of reach. “Go sit down.”
“No.” She glares at me, her hands still flailing for the mop. “You’ve done enough tonight.”
Why does everything with this woman have to be so complicated? In a smooth move, I slip the mop behind my back with one hand and capture her wrists in the other. With a steady breath, I stare down at her.
She wiggles to be free. “What are you doing?” Her movements cause her to stumble forward. With her hands behind her back, there’s nothing she can use to break her fall.
Her chest rams against mine. Her nose sinks into the base of my neck. The scent of her perfume fills my nostrils. I take a big whiff, getting drunk on the fragrance. This hurts in the best way. Holding her. Being close to her.
Doc told me to keep it in my pants. I can do that.
But does Harriet have to make it so damn difficult?
She gets more beautiful every time I see her. It doesn’t matter if she’s in a sports bra and yoga pants, in short pants and a T-shirt or in a cocktail dress. Everything she does makes my heart race.
Harriet looks flustered. “Let me go, Jerrison.” I don’t want to.
But I’ve got Doc in my head, telling me this is a chance to show her I’ve changed.
Tonight isn’t about sleeping with my wife. It’s about serving her.
I sigh and take a giant step back. “If you want to do something, start on dinner.”
“I don’t feel like cooking.”
“Great. Let’s order take-out. You can start on that. You’ll need an hour to decide anyway and I’d rather you get a head start.”
“I do not take that long to decide what I want to eat.” She rolls her eyes. “Harriet, let’s not kid ourselves.” I run the mop across the floor.
Her smile is sunshine. Her eyes too. They glitter with humor. The moment shifts from tense to easy. Ice cream on a sugar cone. Sunday drives with no destination. I forgot things could be like this between us.
She heads outside to make the order.
I finish mopping and notice there are dirty dishes in the sink. It makes me smile. A year ago, we hired a housekeeper because we didn’t have time to keep up with the cleaning on top of all our other obligations. Harriet must have found it hard to get back into the habit of doing it herself once she moved out.
I start the tap and pour sudsy water into the sink. My hands descend into bubbles. Plates. Forks. Cups. Dishes. How could one woman make such a mess?
What if she’s not the only one who’s been eating here? I envision some random stranger crawling out of her bed and kissing her over breakfast. My lips tighten into a thin line.
Footsteps patter behind me. A soft voice says, “I ordered Chinese.”
“Of course you did.” My eyes seek out hers. “It must be hard now.
Cooking for one.”
“Leftovers have been a lifesaver.”
I tilt my head as I peel off the gloves. “Has anyone… tasted your cooking lately?”
She bursts out laughing. I frown. “What?”
“You’re not cute when you’re jealous.”
“I’m asking a simple question.” My cheeks burn because I hate feeling exposed.
She walks up to me. Steps right up into my personal space. Her brown eyes glisten. “The only man who’s been inside this apartment is you.”
My heart does the flip again. Only this time, it pairs it with a spinning high-kick.
Harriet’s smile widens into a cheeky grin. “Well, you and the delivery guy.”
My eyebrows tighten. “Which delivery guy?” Harriet laughs and dances out of the kitchen.
I chase after her. “Is that why you decided to order Chinese?”