Page 84 of Tides That Bind

“I hear from experience third time is the charm,” I offer.

“Got it!” she exclaims.

“Thank god,” I mumble, lowering the poster board as she approaches. I point to my sunglasses she wears. “Can I have those back now?”

Harper ignores me and approaches someone coming out of the courthouse. “Excuse me? Would you mind taking a picture?”

I knit my brows together as she hands her phone to the woman.

“We have to haveonephoto together. The last one was years ago,” she reminds me. “We should upgrade it.”

I think of the photo that lives on the fridge, the one Harper often covers with others.

“This would make him so happy, Riley,” Harper whispers, looking up at me. “You and me together.”

I know Nate would be happy to see these photos. But what I’m not sure about is how he’d feel knowing how good it feels to wrap my arm around his wife’s waist, how easily she fits against me. How would he feel knowing I’m smiling for the camera like an idiot because even though I’m annoyed by Harper’s adorable enthusiasm, I’m overjoyed it brought her this damn close?

“Congratulations on your achievement. You’re a beautiful couple,” the woman holding the phone says.

I don’t know how Nate would feel that I don’t correct her.

But neither does Harper.

Harper’s idea of celebrating involves offering to buy me lunch at the diner on the Boulevard. My idea of celebrating usually involves a few beers. But it’s only eleven when we leave the courthouse—too early for both of those things.

“I’ve got another idea.”

Harper finally rolls up the posterboard. “What?”

“You’ll like it,” I tell her. “Trust me.”

She settles back against the seat and doesn’t argue, only tilts her head over the door, holding her hand out to cut through the air as I drive us toward the water. I grip the steering wheel tighter because I’ve got the urge again to pull back her hair so it doesn’t obstruct my view of her face.

Riley, I lecture.Getout of your head.

That’s kind of exactly what I want to do. I want to get out of my own head that’s filled with happiness and a hint of frustration that I can’t see the smooth, pink apple of Harper’s cheek or the gentle slope of her nose. I want to flee from the walls of my mind that seem to be sandwiched with nothing more than thoughts of how damn beautiful Harper is, and more, how she showed up for me today.

I grunt, cursing myself, thankful that the rush of the wind masks the noise.

Harper gasps.

“You’re taking me to surf.”

I hum, but don’t give her anything more than that. I’ve got nine fingers squeezing the steering wheel so hard, it doesn’t matter that my left index finger lays idly against it. I could crush it with less than full force.

“Really?”

Harper’s stare bores into me, but I don’t look at her. Instead, my eyes flicker between the road and the hand she’s placed right below my shoulder. Even through a shirt and suit jacket, I swear I can feel her warmth so intensely it’s like skin on skin.

“Today?”

“Y-yeah,” I push out. “Today.”

I change lanes, taking the merge toward the beach. Harper’s hand drops from my arm and I resume breathing.

She rocks and shimmies in her seat and I can’t not look now. Reaching up, Harper tucks a strand of wild, flying hair behind her left ear, giving me access to the huge smile she has on her face.

It’s not the smile itself, but knowingIput it there that hasmesmiling. But the shared joy is short lived on my part.

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