Page 120 of Harrison's Wedding

I make my way to the living room to find Hayden sitting on the sofa, and he gives me a tight smile. “How are you feeling this morning?”

“Like dog shit,” I groan as I drop down next to him.

There’s silence for a minute before Hayden sighs and says, “I’m worried about you.”

“Don’t be.”

“You’re drinking too much. It’s not healthy,” he says quietly.

I feel a rush of shame because I don’t know how to cope with the way I’m feeling except to drink. When I’m drunk, the hell I’m living seems a little easier. The paparazzi questions don’t sting as badly, and I can forget the stares from the people around me. I don’t know how to do any of that when I’m sober.

I can’t seem to bring myself to voice any of this to Hayden, so I say, “I’m a big boy, Hayden. I can take care of myself.”

“Can you?” he asks, and when I turn to look at him, he’s already looking at me.

“I can,” I say, feeling my jaw tighten.

“You’re seeing your therapist today, aren’t you?” Hayden asks. I take a deep breath and nod at him. “Have you considered seeing someone, or even him, without Heather? Talking about what happened to you?”

I narrow my eyes at him as my suspicions about the source of this conversation begin to grow. “Have you been talking to Sebastian?”

“Yes and no,” he admits. “We’ve all noticed it. We love you and we want you to get better.”

I frown at him and grit my teeth. There are a million things I want to say to him. Heat rises in me at the thought of them all talking about me behind my back. Most of all, the concept of me needing to be ‘fixed’ is aggravating. I’m not broken, I know what went wrong, and I’m the one to blame for my life being in ruins.

“Right. Cool. Well, tell Sebastian and Gabriel that I’m doing just fine. It’s probably time I got my own place, anyway. I can’t live here forever.”

“Harrison, it’s not that. You can stay here as long as you need to. I don’t want you to get another place; I’m just worried about you, as I said.”

I glare at him for another few seconds before I look away. I do appreciate them caring about me, but it also makes me uncomfortable. It’s an added level of judgment to the stuff I already feel from strangers in public. It just reminds me that I’m alone on this island where no one can get to me.

“Noted. I’m going to have some breakfast. I’ll leave you to it.” I stand up from the sofa and head to the kitchen, grateful that Hayden doesn’t follow me.

I make my food, which I eat alone at the dining table while reading news articles about Heather, and I spend the rest of the day avoiding Hayden by going to the music room and then my own room.

By the time I have to leave for my counseling session with Heather just after lunch, my head has stopped pounding, but my stomach is roiling and I think that I might be sick again from the nerves.

I don’t bother finding Hayden to say goodbye when I leave for the appointment, and I find Michael by the door with Jesse.

“Are you ready to leave, Mr. Fletcher?” he asks me.

“Yes, I am.” He nods, and we get in the elevator to go downstairs. “I’m, uh, sorry about the car last night.”

Michael gives me a grin and says, “It wasn’t particularly pleasant, but the car is being detailed today. Luckily, we went in Jesse’s car yesterday, so it’s no skin off my nose.”

“I’ll have to apologize to him later,” I cringe.

We arrive in Brendan’s office fifteen minutes before my appointment time, and I see his receptionist raise her eyebrows at my appearance.

“Hi, I’m here to see Brendan,” I tell her.

“Of course. Take a seat and he’ll call you in when he’s ready for you,” she responds.

I nod and take a seat to wait. I can barely remain calm as I think about seeing Heather. When the door to the office opens and she walks in, trailed by Callum, I think my heart stops beating at the sight of her. She’s wearing a tight pink dress with a flared skirt and looks as beautiful as ever.

Her eyes scan the room, and when she sees me, her entire body relaxes for a second before tensing up again. She doesn’t bother going to talk to the receptionist, coming over to me instead.

“Hi, Harrison,” she says, and the familiar pain hits me at the sound of my name.

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