Page 39 of The Painter and His Poet

“My mother…”

“What about her?”

“She’s famous,” I say, wincing at how ridiculous I sound.

“What the hell has that got to do with anything?”

“It has made her self-absorbed. Selfish. Controlling in a lot of ways,” I admit, glancing up at him.

Sterling frowns, folding his arms across his chest. “Go on.”

“That night we met, Robert was visiting. It was the early days of their relationship, and she wanted me out of the way. I called a friend of a friend and he got me the gig atSmokey Joe’s. Like I told you that night, singing is an escape for me. I wanted to be someone else for a while. Not Harlow, the daughter of my famous mother, a woman who has spent the last seven years being her personal assistant and putting her own needs and wants aside. As much as it is embarrassing for me to admit, I’ve barely lived my own life, and on the occasions I’ve tried, my mother has always found a way to ruin whatever plans I’ve made,” I explain.

“What do you mean she ruins your plans to live your own life?” Sterling asks, a muscle feathering in his jaw as he stares at me.

I press my eyes shut briefly, willing myself not to cry. It’s humiliating enough to admit that I’m still very much under the control of my mother, let alone that I’m not strong enough to walk away.

“Harlow,” Sterling insists, not letting this go.

“We have a complicated relationship,” I continue shakily, “And if I’m honest with myself it’s unhealthy. My mother doesn’t want to see me happy with anyone because I think she believes deep down that I would abandon her. So in the past whenever I’ve gotten close to someone, friend or lover, she’s found a way to ruin my relationship with them. And the worst part is that I’velet her because in really twisted, fucked up way it makes me feel loved by her when most of the time I just feel like her employee,” I heave out a breath, not feeling any lighter despite sharing the truth. “On occasions, to escape our messed up relationship, I become Friday Love, just like I did the night we met. My mother has no idea.”

“I still don’t understand why that would make you lie to me. I thought we had a connection, but it was just sex for you, wasn’t it? Like you said, a chance to escape.”

“Yes and no,” I admit.

“Which was it, Harlow?”

“I guess in the beginning it was about sex. You were so…” I heave out a breath. “So different from other men I’d met before, intense, interesting, but more than that, apparently interested inme, and I wanted to throw caution to the wind, to just do something I wanted to do for once. I admit that I wanted to feel a man’s hands on me knowing thatIwas the object of his desire.”

“I see.”

“But please believe me when I say that I felt that connection too,” I pause, chewing on my lip. “I felt it, Sterling.”

He folds his arms across his chest, closing himself off from me, and the way the material of his suit jacket stretches around his arm muscles makes my throat dry. Jesus, why does he have to be so handsome? Why does my body tingle every time he lays his eyes on me? Why does the man I’ve thought about ever since we met have to be my step-brother?

“Despite what I felt,” I continue, forcing strength into my spine, holding myself rigid so I don’t throw myself into his arms. “I knew that any kind of relationship with you would be impossible. My mother would go out of her way to ruin it like she’s ruined every other relationship I’ve tried to form. I wanted to remember that night fondly, and not taint it in any way.”

“So you kept your identity a secret because you knew our parents were together, is that it? You slept with me knowing my father was pursuing your mum. That’s fucked up, Harlow.”

“No! I didn’t know you were his son then, Sterling. You never told me your last name, remember?” I reply, shaking my head. “I didn’t find out who you were until last night. I left you a note that night we met not because I knew you were Robert’s son, but for all the reasons I’ve just explained.”

He blanches. “You reallydidn’tknow?”

“Once things began to get serious between my mother and Robert I found out he had a son after my mother mentioned it, but whenever I brought you up, Robert shut the conversations down. He implied you were–”

“Let me guess,difficult?” Sterling interjects, with a shake of his head.

“Yes, and I assumed you were estranged. I didn’t push the subject. I wish I had now, truly. As the weeks wore on, all my time was taken up organising this wedding, not to mention…” My voice trails off, he doesn’t need to know about the messages I’ve been receiving.

“Not to mention?”

“Nothing, I’ve just had a lot going on,” I say, clearing my throat. “Anyway, last night I was on the phone to your father, he explained that you wanted to be his Best Man after all. That you were, in fact, coming to the wedding, and have been in Princetown for weeks now. I asked him your name and he gave it to me. I thought it was just a coincidence. What were the chances that Robert’s son had the same name as the man I’d slept with? So I looked you up on the internet, and found a photo of you.”

“Fuck,” Sterling exclaims, all the fight leaving his body as his shoulders slump, and he drops his arse onto the desk behind him. I can’t help but notice how his fingers curl around the edgeof the desk, how his knuckles turn bone-white from gripping so hard.

“I should’ve reached out to you the second I found out,” I say, blinking back another sudden sting of tears forming in my eyes.

“Then why didn’t you?”

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