Page 70 of The Heartstrings of Harry
I looked down at my drink, tracing the rim of the glass with my fingertip. “I don’t even know where to start with that. He doesn’t suspect a thing, I’m sure of it. How’s he gonna take it?”
Harry sighed softly, leaning in a little closer, voice low. “I’ve been running that one over in my head all day too.”
“I mean, we can’t just… blurt it out. ‘Hey Dad, surprise, I’m in love with your best friend. Also, we’ve had the most mind-blowing sex imaginable.’ I don’t think that’s gonna go down real smooth over breakfast.”
Harry gave a quiet chuckle, but his smile was sad. “Yeah. Not exactly a Hallmark moment.” He paused for a sip of his beer and added, “Mind-blowing? Was I really mind-blowing?”
“Harry, I hate to sound like Astrid, but will you please stay focused? And yes,” he added. “You weretotallymind-blowing.”
I downed half my drink in one go. It went down easier than I expected. “We need to tell Dad at some point. We have to. I can’t keep this inside much longer.”
Harry nodded slowly, fingers still resting steady on my knee. “We’ll tell him,” he said. “Together. When the time’s right.”
I swallowed hard. “When’s that gonna be?”
Harry’s eyes softened, warm and sure. “Soon. But not tonight. Not till after this concert is over.”
I let out a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding and leaned into the quiet between us, the jukebox humming in the background, Bea’s laughter floating from the other end of the bar.
Right now, just for this moment, it was enough to sit here with him, drink in hand, his touch steady and grounding, knowing he wasn’t going anywhere… except maybe the bathroom.
Harry drained the last of his beer, gave me a soft smile, then stood, his fingers brushing my knee once more under the bar before pulling away. “Back in a minute,” he said, nodding toward the bathroom at the back of the barn.
I watched him go—broad shoulders, easy stride, the way his hand dragged absently along the edge of the bar as he passed. God, I wanted to follow him. Lock the door behind us, pin him against the wall, kiss him until all the dread and uncertainty drained out of my chest.
Instead, I stayed where I was, staring down at the lemon twist floating in my drink, turning it slowly between my fingers like it might give me some kind of answer.
Aunt Bea reappeared, gliding back down the length of the bar with a swish of her sequined hips and a fresh dish towel tossed over one shoulder. She leaned one elbow on the bar beside me and gave me a look. Not the playful, teasing look from before. This was a curious, delving, eyebrow-up expression.
“Oh baby,” she said, tilting her head. “I’ve seenthatlook before. That’s the face of a man whose heart’s locked up tighter than his mama’s liquor cabinet… and he ain’t got the keyorthe good sense to go lookin’! Now tell your Aunt Bea… what’s got your pretty little knickers in a twist, honey-pie?”
I gave her a tired smile, but it didn’t reach my eyes. “I’m fine.”
Bea narrowed her gaze, unimpressed. “Uh-huh. And I’m the Queen of England.”
I huffed out a soft laugh, shaking my head.
“Baby,” Bea went on, propping her chin in her hand. “Lemme tell you somethin’ about that little fib you just tried to sell me. I’ve been performin’ kinks and servin’ drinks longer than you been alive. I’ve seen every kinda heartbreak there is. Breakups, breakdowns, bad karaoke choices—you name it. If you ask me, you got the look of a boy carryin’ around a secret so big it’s about to pop the buttons off your shirt… which, by the way, I wouldn’t mind seeing. But I figure there’s more you wanna get off your chest than just your clothes.”
I swallowed hard, eyes on my glass.
Bea reached out gently, tapping one long lacquered nail against the rim of my drink.
“Now, I ain’t here to pull it outta you. But Iamhere to tell you—whatever it is you’re twistin’ yourself up over? Whatever storm you’re holdin’ back in that chest of yours? Baby, it’s gonna find its way out sooner or later. Might as well be on your terms.”
I looked up at her, throat tight. “It’s just… complicated.”
Bea smiled, warm and wide. “Baby,everythingworth a damn is complicated. Love, family, taxes.” She gave an exhausted roll of her eyes. “Especially taxes. My ex-boyfriend Ernie knew that all too well, but that’s a story for another time.”
I chuckled despite myself, the knot in my chest loosening just a little.
Bea straightened up, giving her towel a snap before tossing it onto the counter. “And let me say this too, sugar—ain’t nothin’ wrong with being scared. Being scared means it matters. But you can’t let scared make your choices for you. Otherwise, you’re just lettin’ fear sit in the driver’s seat while your heart rides shotgun.”
I blinked at her. “Has anyone ever told you how wise you are?”
Bea laughed. “Oh honey, have youseenmy booty? Who do you think put the ‘ass’ in ‘wiseass’?” She gave my shoulder a little pat before turning to refill a beer for one of the regulars down the line.
As she walked away, she called back over her shoulder without even turning around, “Also, for the record, sugar-pie—you are absolutely allowed to be happy. Don’t you dare ever forget it.”
