Page 16 of One Wrong Move

The thought feels sour in my mind. Dean is hurting. I know he is. And so is Harper. I shouldn’t be taking any joy from their breakup.

It probably makes me an asshole for feeling relief when Dean first told me about it.

I know I’m terrible for bringing her here.

“Nate,” she says. She glances from the painting I intend to buy back to me, and there’s a nervous glint in her eye. “I truly appreciate us being here tonight, and that you invited me.”

“I sense there’s a but coming.” I raise my champagne glass in her direction. “Let’s hear it.”

“But, I’m confused why you’re not angry with me.” Her eyes narrow, her eyebrows furrow. “I’m not telling you to be angry if you’re not. I’ve just been trying to figure out why you’re doing this for me. Why you have agreed to put… to put him in a box, agreeing not to discuss everything? Why aren’t you furious?”

“It sounds a lot like you want me to be angry with you.”

“No, no, that’s not what I mean.”

My brow rises in disbelief. “Isn’t it? Because I feel aggression coming from your side of this argument.”

Harper rolls her eyes, and a smile tugs at her lips. “Can you be serious for five minutes?”

“I can, if you force me to be. Let me think, why am I not angry with you…” I take a long sip of my champagne and focus on the whirls of paint on the canvas in front of us.

What answer can I give that she’ll accept?

“Back home, everyone is angry,” she says.

My eyes dart to her again. The furrow is still there, creasing her forehead, and there’s a look in her eyes that I don’t like. Not at all. “Not everyone,” I say.

“Well, Dean sure is. Dean’s parents and his sister. Even my parents are… concerned. I feel like I set off a bomb and then got on a plane.” Her gaze shifts to own glass of champagne, and she chuckles a little. “Sorry. Maybe I shouldn’t have had a second one of these.”

“Champagne tastes best when it’s free,” I say. I feel numb, hearing her words, her question, and seeing the look of sadness on her face. Sadness about the end of a relationship while I felt nothing but joy at the same.

It’s a punch to the gut, knowing how fruitless my feelings for her are, and how wrong they’ve always been. How unwanted, unneeded, and unwise.

And how I’ve never been able to turn them off regardless.

“Maybe you did,” I say. “Set off a bomb. But maybe you needed to. And the people in your life will realize that with time.”

“Will they?” she asks. But she’s smiling a bit. “Because I don’t think Dean’s parents or his sister will ever come around.”

“Maybe they won’t,” I admit. “But maybe that’s not… a huge loss.”

Her eyes widen, and then she chuckles. “No, you’ve met them, too. I don’t think it might be.” Then, she covers her face with a hand. “God, what am I saying? Please don’t tell?—”

“Of course not. Never.”

Harper nods, and her hand slides down to the side of her neck. She cocks her head. “So? Why aren’t you angry?”

I thought I escaped that question.

“Because you broke up with Dean?” I ask. Like clarification is necessary.

And it’s really, really not.

But she nods anyway. “Yeah. So close to the… the wedding.”

“If that was the right path for you,” I say, “then it was the right path for him, too. You shouldn’t be together unless both of you are fully in. In time, I’m certain he will realize that as well.”

She digs her teeth into her lower lip. “Yeah.”

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