Page 27 of Never Been Worse

She just shrugs without elaborating and eagerly says, “My turn now?”

I smile back and give her the phone, moving along with our little game.

“Okay, a song that reminds you of your childhood summers,” she says, tapping on my phone a few times before the opening strains of a familiar song fill my ears. “American Pie”by Don McLean.

“That feels like a cop-out,” I say with a laugh.

“I have this memory of my parents throwing a Fourth of July party when I was, I don’t know, four? Five? And this song played, and we all sang it. The grown-ups were definitely a little tipsy and goofing around, and we all had sparklers. I was on my uncle’s shoulders, and they were all singing loudly and…I don’t know. It just reminds me of summer.”

I smile at her, loving this small insight into her life.

“Are you close with your family?”

She shakes her head. “My parents got divorced soon after that summer, so it’s even more bittersweet of a memory, I guess. It was probably the last time they were together. They’re good parents, but I’m pretty sure I was asave-the-marriagebaby. Once I was out of high school, I think they were relieved to be rid of the responsibility of raising me.” She shrugs like it’s no big deal. “It’s probably why I don’t want kids. I’m sure a therapist would have a field day with that.”

“You don’t want kids?” I ask, not judging, but because I’ve seen how good she is with Jules’s stepdaughter.

She shakes her head. “I’d much rather travel and live my life. I love kids, don’t get me wrong, but I don’t want one of my own.” She bites her lip before looking at me, and I force myself not to make too big of a deal, to tell her we’re on the same page with this too, something I don’t find often. I love kids, but I’ve never felt the urge to have one of my own. I’m more than fulfilled with my friends, my chosen family, and my career. More and more, Harper is proving we’re a perfect match. “What about you?”

I shake my head, playing it casually. “Not for me.”

She nods, accepting my answer without further question, then silence falls between us. I reach over, grabbing the phone, pulling up a song, and showing it to her.

“‘We Found Love’?” she asks, confused.

“It was playing the night we met.”

She smiles, her eyes wide in surprise. “Really?” I nod. “How do you remember that?”

I shrug, then lie. “Music is my job.”

She takes me in, reading me, and I think she’s not going to let it go before she reaches for the phone.

“My turn, give me a prompt,” she says, breaking the moment, and I hand it to her, slightly relieved she didn’t dig more. We continue like that, passing the phone back and forth, and slowly, I watch her melt, her discomfort and self-consciousness drift off, if only temporarily, and I make my choice.

It’s not a hard one, and it’s not one that I hadn’t already been pondering since I met her, but that flight to our honeymoon cements it for me.

I’m going to make Harper Holden mine in a permanent way.

Now I just need to convince her of it.

TWELVE

HARPER

“One bed,” I say as we walk into the honeymoon suite of the exclusive hotel we’re staying at. It’s one of those fancy all-inclusive resorts I could only daydream about staying in on my own, and despite myself, I’m looking forward to the next few days in luxury.

Except there’s only one damned bed. God, Ava would fucking love this, like a scene out of one of the books she reads.

“Our marital bed,” Wes says deadpan, and my eyes go wide as I whip my head in his direction, panicking. I know we’re married and all, but it’s notthatkind of married. I didn’t think I’d be sharing a bed with a near stranger, much less anything…more.

“I’m joking, I’m joking, Harp. I’m staying on the couch, you’re getting the bed. We just needed to book this and make it look real, just in case there are any leaks,” he says with a small laugh.

His response should be reassuring, yet somehow, I hate the idea of him sleeping on the couch more than the idea of sleeping in the same bed with him.

But do you really hate the idea of that, Harper?that pesky voice in my head asks.

“No, no,” I say. “That’s not necessary. You don’t have to sleep on the couch.”

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