Page 72 of One Sweet Lie

There’s no point in hurting her right now…

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Several school poetry recitals, Baby Yoga sessions, and nights of family baking later…

THIRTY-ONE

HARLOW

The best ice cream stand in Central Park begged me and the twins’ to pay it a Thursday morning visit.

Pierce took the day off and came along with us.

“Can I have a vanilla cone with crushed strawberries and two cold marble cups with lemon toppings?” I asked the vendor. “Can you also make me a hot chocolate.”

“Of course, Harlow.” He smiled at me. “Coming right up.”

I handed him the black card as Pierce adjusted the stroller’s awning.

“Is it always this quiet when you walk with them?” he asked.

“Yeah, unless one of your security guards is following too closely and updating Jerry about our every breath.”

“They don’t report on your every breath.”

“One of them jumped out of the trees last week because William coughed too many times for his liking.”

“I’ll have to give that guard a raise then.” He took the treats and handed them to the twins. “What’s the next part of your route?”

“To the fountain and then past the new pavilion,” I said. “That’s where I show off the empty cafe I plan to buy some day.”

“Why don’t you call the bank now and ask for a loan?”

“Because my name isn’t Pierce Dawson, and I already owe the bank money.”

He laughed. “Noted.”

“Can I ask you something personal?”

“Of course.”

“What type of relationship did you have with the twins’ mother?”

“An ‘off an on’ one,” he said. “We were never truly exclusive.”

“Why couldn’t you remain ‘on’ if you don’t mind me asking?”

“She wanted a family, I didn’t.” He paused. “That argument came up all the time and I refused to budge, so she decided to go off and have that with someone else. Or so I thought…”

“Do you regret not ending up with her before she passed?”

“I regret that I couldn’t tell her goodbye, and that the twins will never know her.” He sighed. “But I can’t regret anything else. She wanted the ultimate fairytale from me and I couldn’t give her that.”

“Are you going to ask me about my exes?”

“I don’t take notes from failures.” He smiled, and I laughed.

As we approached the fountain, his phone sounded in his pocket.

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