Page 97 of Harrison's Wedding

“Because he hurt me. I want him to hurt, too.”

Brendan hands her a box of tissues as she breaks down into tears. I ache to put my arms around her and comfort her. I want everything to be okay, but it isn’t.

“What do you think that you might achieve by hurting Harrison?” Brendan sits back in his chair and crosses one leg over the other as he asks the question.

“I don’t know; I really don’t.”

“Hmmm,” Brendan says in a noncommittal tone before turning to look at me. “Harrison, what do you think?”

“I think that Heather is scared to forgive me. She’d rather drive me away,” I voice the thing that I hate knowing is true, and Heather frowns at me while I say it, “it’s like she’s trying her hardest to get me to leave,” I manage to get out around the lump in my throat.

“Interesting. Is splitting up something that you think might happen?”

Even the concept of it is painful. In some ways, it feels inevitable and as though I’m just waiting for the other shoe to drop. It’s why everything is wrong with my world.

“I don’t want it, but Heather will barely speak to me, so I have no clue what she wants.”

“What I want is for you to go back in time and not sleep with Madeline. Can you fucking do that for me, Harrison?” she crosses her arms over her chest as she says it.

I can barely breathe because it’s what I want, too. I hate myself for doing this to her. I want the reality where I didn’t do what I did, and not this hell that I’m living now.

“No, I can’t. Trust me, if I could, I would,” I whisper.

Heather looks into my eyes for a few seconds before she looks away. Her whole body is tense, and I hate this more than anything. I miss her so much, and she’s less than two feet away from me.

Brendan says, “We can’t change the past. All we can do is decide what to do moving forward. So, since Harrison can’t go back in time, what would you like him to do?”

“I don’t know. It’s hard to trust someone who is lying to your face.” She shrugs, and a powerful wave of shame hits me.

“What makes you think that Harrison is lying to you?”

She turns to glare at me, and I can’t stand it. I turn my head and look at the books in the bookcase at the side of Brendan’s room.

“That,” she announces. “He’s lying to me.”

I can barely breathe, and I have a strong urge to run out of the room because I know what’s coming.

“Are you lying to Heather about things, Harrison?” Brendan asks.

“No,” I lie.

Heather snorts derisively and says, “Yeah, okay then. Tell me again what you remember about the night you fucked Maddy, Harrison.”

Guilt and shame and nausea all combine at once in the pit of my stomach, and I can’t bear it. I can see Maddy riding me, feel her around my cock and one of her breasts in my mouth. I think I might puke, and I squeeze my eyes shut, working hard to push the memory away.

“Nothing, really,” I lie when I open my eyes.

Because uttering any of that aloud would be unbearable for me, let alone Heather.

“Yeah, okay then. Whatever you say, Harrison,” Heather says in a cold tone.

The remainder of our hour with Brendan is as draining as it always is. Heather is clearly hurting and wants to hurt me, because she makes comments that seem designed to cause me pain. I don’t blame her, because I deserve it, but the most painful thing is feeling as though these sessions won’t do any good. I’m certain that there will come a point where Heather will break up with me.

“I’ll see you next week,” Brendan tells us as we all stand from our seats when the session is finally over.

“Can’t wait. Stoked. It’ll be great!” Heather mutters under her breath as she makes her way to the door.

I frown at her, sad that she’s so bitter. I’ve turned her from one of the sweetest people in the world into someone who makes stinging barbs like that. I hate myself.

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