Page 205 of Untouchable

"Bring her to lunch," Harp offers, his expression serious.

“What?” Parker chokes. “I can’t—believe me, you wouldn’t—”

The door opens, and Parker’s mother appears.

“Parker, are you ready?” she says in a bored tone, ignoring Harp completely. “I don’t have all day.”

* * *

Parker goldfishesand Harp looks between his face and his mother's. Parker doesn't actively intervene, so Harp forces the most enthusiastic smile possible and extends his hand. Oh, I'm in the mood for this.

It's been a while since Harp has had a real moment of conflict like this, where the facts are so clear before him. It hadn't even been this crystal clear with Cole.

Harp is good at being the villain. He doesn't mind playing the role—especially not if it means sorting some facts out between Parker and his mother.

"I don't believe we've met. I'm Morton Harper, but please call me Harp."

Mrs. James gives Harp a strange look then turns back to Parker expectantly.

“Mom—” Parker says, his voice high and squeaky. “This, um—this is Harp, my boyfriend?”

* * *

The lookon his mother’s face as she turns to Harp makes Parker want to curl up and die. His mother has always been good at wordlessly conveying her emotions, and the expression on her face is pure acid. She looks disgusted, as if Harp is some kind of matted hairball that has gained sentience and climbed up out of the sewer. It makes Parker’s heart hurt. He feels like the world’s worst boyfriend, exposing someone he cares about so deeply to something so hateful.

“Well,” she says, after a moment that feels like it spans an entire decade. “Pardon me, but I need to speak with my son.”

She turns away from Harp, clearly expecting Parker to follow.

“Good god, Parker,” she says, loud enough for Harp to hear. “If you needed money, you could have just asked instead of—”

“Mom—” Parker yelps.

"I'm sorry," Harp says, his smile unwavering. "Is everything alright? I only ask because it doesn't seem like Parker was expecting you, and I know Rocky Mountain’s protocols are quite strict."

Parker feels trapped, and he’s not quick enough on his feet to think his way out of the situation. He wants to be with Harp, of course, and he feels like he’s betraying Harp by abandoning him to go with his mother. But, on the other hand, simply walking away from his mother is impossible. It’d be easier for him to crawl out of a black hole.

His mother opens her mouth to say something in response to Harp, but Parker jumps in.

“Um—Mom—Harp and I—we, um—had plans to get lunch before—before his appointment—”

“His appointment?” his mother says, and Parker flinches, realizing he’s said too much. “Parker, you’re dating a client?”

“Mom—” Parker says, and it’s as close as he ever comes to snapping at her. “We’ve signed the paperwork—it doesn’t matter—”

It’s true—a few days after their conversation on Thanksgiving, Parker had sat down with his boss to discuss the fact that he was dating a client. Parker had been so nervous beforehand he’d almost thrown up in the bathroom sink, but in the end, it boiled down to a long, and ultimately encouraging, conversation with Dr. Breen and a few forms he and Harp had to fill out.

"Parker, it's fine if you'd like to go to lunch with her,” Harp says in a suddenly even tone. He’s giving Parker an out, Parker realizes. “I just want to make sure it's what you want. I can even reschedule if you want more time together—just say the word."

“Harp—” Parker says, a desperate edge to his voice. He wishes he could convey how he wants Harp to be there, how the thing he needs most when facing his mother is Harp at his side—but he knows it can never happen. His mother would be livid, and besides, Parker could never forgive himself for exposing Harp to his mother’s vitriol. It cuts deep, he knows, and the scars don’t fade. “I’m so sorry—I’ll—I’ll make it up to you, but—she came all the way from Denver, and—”

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees his mother smile sweetly at Harp.

"Not a problem," Harp says, stepping forward swiftly to kiss Parker on the temple. "Why don't you text me when you're wrapping up, and I'll come pick you up from wherever you go for lunch?"

Parker doesn’t dare look at his mother.

“Okay,” he manages to squeak out, feeling shitty and guilty and horrible. “I’ll—I’ll talk to you soon.”

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