Page 124 of Harrison's Wedding

I shrug my shoulders and tell her, “As far as I’m concerned, you are.”

“Harrison—”

I cut her off. “No, angel. Whatever I have, half of it is yours. It doesn’t matter what the law says. I have to do what’s right.”

“But you’re the one who earned it.”

“Which I couldn’t have done if you hadn’t supported me. Give me your bank details and I’ll put half of my money into your account. Whenever my investments divest, you can have half of those funds, as well.”

Heather shakes her head. “Harrison, you’re being too generous.”

“No, I’m doing what’s right.”

I shrug my shoulders because it’s true. Hell, she’s probably owed everything I own for the pain and suffering I’ve put her through, but I know that she knows how much money is in our account and she’d never accept me giving it all to her.

“Well, thank you, I guess. So, there are some other matters for us to discuss. I’ve canceled all of our wedding vendors—” a shocking pain hits me with force because even while we’re sitting here and discussing the split of our assets, this reminder of our wedding cancellation still hurts, “—and we got refunds from some of them, so that’s gone back into the joint account. Serenity still owes you for the loan from its startup costs. Do you want it to be paid back immediately, now that we’ve broken up?”

I shake my head at her. “God, no, of course not. The terms of the original loan are fine.”

I’d be happy for it never to be paid back, in all honesty.

“Okay. The final matter is the issue of the apartment—”

“Which is in your name as much as mine. Telling Brendan that it’s mine…” I trail off and sigh, then say, “That hurt me, angel.”

“You’re right; I’m sorry. I guess I’ve been struggling with my position in life now that we’re not together. It feels like I’ve just been living off you and your money for years. Nothing is really mine.”

I hate that she feels that way. Heather is one of the most self-assured people I know, but I’ve turned her into this person. The one that doesn’t value herself as highly as she should. She’s an angel who got involved with a demon.

I can’t voice any of my thoughts, so I stay silent while Heather continues, “Anyway, we need to decide what’s happening with it.”

The thought of selling the apartment is too painful. I can barely stand it. Even if I never set foot in it again, I couldn’t get rid of it.

“I’m not ready to sell it,” I lie because I have no intention of ever selling it. “If you’d like, I can have it appraised, give you half of the value, and transfer it into my name.”

My suggestion is greeted by a heavy silence. It all feels very final and makes me incredibly uncomfortable. It feels as though, one by one, we’re severing the ties that bind us together. Each one that we cut leaves me further adrift.

“I don’t think I’m ready for that, either,” Heather says quietly. “Can I get back to you on that?”

“Of course, angel.”

“Well, I guess that’s everything.” She stands, and I follow suit.

We begin to head toward the entryway, and I don’t know how to say goodbye to her. It’s twice as awkward as this afternoon, given that we’ve just talked about separating for good. When she’s gone, I head to my bedroom, where I break into tears.

Half an hour later, Heather sends through her bank details, along with a message reminding me that I don’thaveto give her half of my money. I call my bank manager and speak to him about putting half of my funds into that account. He tells me that he’ll send through some paperwork and encourages me to speak to a lawyer before doing anything I might regret. Meanwhile,Iconsider switching banks.

When the call is finished, I stare at Heather’s message. She has a bank account of her own, a life of her own. I want alcohol.

I consider that thought for a second, and it scares me. Why is that my go-to move lately? Life sucks. Drink alcohol. Instead of getting a drink, I pick up my phone again and dial Brendan’s office.

“Hi, this is Harrison Fletcher. I was wondering if I could possibly speak to Brendan?” I ask the receptionist.

She tells me that he’ll call me back when he’s free, and forty-five minutes later, my phone rings while I’m in the music room.

“Harrison, how can I help you?” he asks.

I’ve had time to think about why I called him. What I want and what I need.

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