Page 37 of Where We Go From Here

She watches me cautiously. I think I’m about to sweat. Then a small smile appears on her pretty mouth and she says tauntingly, “Well, I guess that would make it a lot easier for us to have that conversation that you’ve been dying to have with me.”

I grunt and nod. Yeah, itwillmake it easier to find a moment to tell her how much I want to get her on a date.

And it could facilitate a hell of a lot of other stuff too.

“That a yes?” I ask her, trying to ignore that naughty glint in her eyes.Not yet, baby. Let me wine and dine you first.

She turns her smile up to full-watt. “Yes,” she says, and then she brushes her body right past me, pressing firm and deliberate to rile me up.

She opens up the door and I turn around to step out with her, but then we both stop in our tracks.

Great.

It’s less than a week until Halloween so it’s no wonder that it’s chucking it down.

I take my trucker hat off the rack and place it gently on her head. She looks up at me with those big beautiful eyes and I look back down at her, giving her an almost-smile.

Then we hightail it to the truck and head back to Pine Hills.

Chapter 11

Harper

The wall between our bungalows is thin.

Our bedrooms are situated headboard to headboard and every groan of Mitch’s mattress has me clutching at my sheets. Every time he pads to the bathroom and twists on the shower, I know about it. And Mitch takesreallylong showers.

I’d wrongly assumed that having Mitch next door would facilitate and enable my interest in getting to know him, but it turns out that it’s had the opposite effect. Since we got back to Pine Hills and Mitch relocated from the motel to the bungalow next door, all that it’s enabled is Mitch working overtime. Instead of finishing up at the site at 6p.m. at the latest Mitch is in his office until at least half seven, and then he’s pulling out of the site so that he can buy groceries in town. Admittedly, Mitch being next door has lead to Mitch bringing me dinner every evening, most likely in an attempt to prevent me furthering my adventures with food poisoning, but when I offer him to come inside and eat with me he’s all red cheeks and heavy breathing. It makes me unsure about whether he’s feeding me because he likes me or because he thinks that I’m incapable.

Maybe both.

But by the start of November I’ve stressed so hard that I now fully believe that Mitch’s decision to move in next door had nothing to do with getting closer to me and everything to do with finishing up the reno ahead of schedule. It doesn’t matter that when we were at his place he told me that he wanted to take me on a date – in fact, I was so out of it that I can’t be sure that I didn’t hallucinate the whole thing.

The final nail in the coffin for my withering confidence is a call from my mom on her lunch break, gently urging me to head back to LA ahead of my movie’s upcoming press tour.

It’s 5p.m. and I’m sat cross-legged on the roof, watching Mitch and his guys as they finish hauling in the bespoke furniture my mom commissioned for the cabin bedrooms, joking together as they pick up cabinets and panels like they weigh nothing more than a marshmallow.

I clutch the phone tighter in my right hand, my left hand pressing against the ache in my chest.

“I can’t come back, mom. Not right now.” I sound like I’m pleading even though this argument has nothing to do with her. Of course I don’t want to face Evan and, in this context, it would be even more humiliating.

“You wrote the damn movie, Harper. Why are you letting him win? He doesn’t have half as much right to be there than you do.”

“Does your other daughter know that you’re talking about Evan like this?” I ask her, aiming for a low blow because I know that she’s right. I should be there, but instead I’m acting like I don’t exist and letting Evan take all of the limelight. I’ve been writing movies for a long time and I’ve always loved falling in love with each new character, but after what happened with this last one, it really sucker-punched the passion out of me.

“Holly did a shitty thing, Harper, I know. But there’s nothing that we can do to align other people with our own moral compass. Most people are inherently selfish, and last month you got a master-class in that. It’s shocking and it’s upsetting, but I promise you that seeing their true colours now will be so much better for you in the long run.” She deliberates for a moment and then tacks on, “Honestly, thank fuck that spoiled little prince is finally out of your life. I never understood what you saw in him anyway, Harper.”

“I bet you haven’t said that to–”

“No, you’re right, I haven’t said that to her, Harper. But it’s not because I’m hiding the truth from her. It’s because they’re the perfect narcissistic match.”

There’s a finality to her tone that stops me from arguing back. I take a deep inhalation, allowing the oxygen to refresh my body and my mind, and then I breathe back out, closing my eyes.

“You’re right,” I say, nodding. “I know you are. But I think that I’m better off staying in Pine Hills for a bit, and just missing the press tour. I… I really don’t want to see him.”

“Why not? Maybe the time apart will have given you a new perspective that you didn’t see coming.” I hear tapping on a keyboard and then she says, “How’s your handyman, by the way? Don’t think that I’ve forgotten.”

I open my eyes and look out down the valley, where Mitch is leaning against one of the cabin railings whilst one of his crew lights up a cigarette beside him. I feel a sparkle in my chest when I realise that his eyes are already on mine.

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