Page 92 of Harrison's Wedding

I’m nervous. I need to see Heather, but I’m scared as shit about it. I wait as Callum leaves, then take a deep breath and head to our bedroom. It’s dark, and I can see by the light streaming in that Heather isn’t in the bed. I check the bathroom just to be sure, and she’s not there, either.

My heart feels like it’s shattering. Something about her not being in here hurts. She must be in one of the other bedrooms. When I find her, I don’t think she’s ever looked as devastatingly beautiful as she does right now. I need to wake her, but I watch her instead.

I run my hand through my hair and take a deep breath because I don’t want to do this. It’s going to hurt her just to see me. When I wake her, I’m going to have to see the hurt on her face, and I’m going to have to apologize even though she’s told me she doesn’t want me to. I want to grovel at her feet, to tell her she is the most amazing woman in the world and I don’t deserve her. I don’t think she wants that from me, though.

I summon every ounce of strength I have left and say, “Heather.”

I have to call her name several times before she wakes. When she does, she rolls over and looks at the clock before looking at me where I’m still standing in the doorway. As her eyes land on me, they fill with tears, and she begins to cry.

I walk over to the bed, leaving the door open for light, and sit down on the bed next to her. I want to take her in my arms, to beg for her forgiveness, and tell her how much I love her. I don’t. I don’t dare touch her until I know she wants me to do it.

“I know you don’t want to hear it,” I say carefully, hating this feeling, hating that I’ve hurt her, “but I have to say it. I’m sorry, angel. If I could take it back, I would.”

Heather sits up, wipes the tears from her face, and takes shaky breaths of air.

“I know, Harrison. I know. The picture…” she trails off, and it’s so obvious that she’s hurting.

“I wish there wasn’t a picture,” I say with all the venom I’m holding inside of me.

“Why? So you could’ve kept it a secret?” She glares at me.

It’s a look I’ve never seen on Heather’s face when directed at me, and it scares me. I’ve broken us.

“No, angel.” I sigh deeply. “I would’ve told you. I just wish that you didn’t have that image in your head. I wish that I could have told you, not some piece of shit who ambushed you at the airport the second you got off a plane.”

It was my fear every moment after I woke—I didn’t want her to find out from anyone but me. We’ve had some terrible moments with the paparazzi, but they stole the opportunity for me to give her the news more gently. I hate them for it.

I hate everything and everyone right now. Not Heather, who is looking broken and vulnerable, though. I want to make everything okay, but I can’t because I broke everything. I don’t get to blame the paparazzi for this. I don’t get to blame the asshole who spiked our drinks. I don’t get to blame Maddy. I did this.

“Gabriel told me that the hospital confirmed that it was definitely GHB.” Heather is avoiding my gaze as she says it, but I’m drinking in the sight of her.

She’s doing that thing she does where she plays with her engagement ring. Spinning it around her finger as she waits for me to reply. I remember the day I gave it to her; how happy I was when she said yes. Now, I don’t know if she’ll ever marry me. She shouldn’t. I don’t deserve her.

I need to answer her, though; she deserves answers. There is plenty of time for me to hate the world after she has those. I can’t stand her not looking at me, and I deserve the pain I will see in her eyes when she does.

“Yeah, it was. The police came; they’re looking into it. Look at me, angel.”

I hate myself for saying it, but I’m aware this will cause her to look at me, and I’m unsurprised when she looks me in the eyes. Searing pain runs through my heart when she does, and I ask the question that burns in my soul.

“Where do we stand, Heather? Is this…does what happened mean the end of us?”

Saying it out loud is the most painful thing I’ve ever said. Even the suggestion of it is the worst idea ever. A future without her isn’t worth living, but I need to hear her answer.

“I don’t know, Harrison. I can’t answer. I need time.”

“You can take as much time as you need, angel. The fact that it’s not an immediate ‘yes,’ is something.” I give her a wan smile because it’s more than I hoped for, and certainly more than I deserve.

Heather sighs, “I can’t promise that it isn’t a ‘yes,’ though, Harrison. All I can say is that I need time. That I understand that you were drugged, that you’re a victim in this as well. I know that on any given day of the week, you would never cheat on me. Knowing all of that doesn’t change the fact that you did cheat on me, though. It doesn’t change the fact that every time I close my eyes, I see you fucking her. It doesn’t change the fact that I feel physically ill whenever that happens.”

As she’s telling me this, I’m tormented with memories of last night. Images of Maddy in bed with me, and I struggle against the nausea that threatens to overcome me. I push the memories away. I don’t want them. I don’t want this. I want to go back in time, bail on the cancer thing, and go to New York with Heather instead. I hate that she’s suffering because of what I did.

Heather moves over to me and puts her arms around my waist. I pull her into a hug, and it feels like nothing has changed. Everythinghaschanged, though, because suddenly, her entire body becomes tense. I drop my arms from around her immediately, and she does the same before she moves back away from me.

“I’m assuming that you didn’t want to sleep in our bedroom, then?” I ask the question, but I can’t look at her any longer because this pain is too raw.

“I think that for the time being, I’d prefer being in here.”

I have fucked everything up. Of all the things in the world that I hate, I hate myself the most.

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