Page 25 of Perfect for Her

“Think of it this way, knowing how strong you guys are now will only benefit you later on.”

“When the fuck did you get all—” I wave my hand between us, not having the words to describe what he’s doing right now.

“Billie makes me watch that Real Housewives shit and it brings up some interesting relationship questions.” He shrugs as if that isn’t the weirdest fucking thing he could have said. “What? She loves it, I love her.”

I smile, shaking my head but also loving the fact that he found his person. Something I know I’ve done, but I just need to remind her.

“Okay, get out of my house so I can go see my girl.”

He smiles, patting me on the shoulder as he leaves, not saying a word out loud but saying everything he was thinking in his eyes.

* * *

It doesn’t take long to get to Harlow’s place, and the second I step onto her porch and hold up my hand to knock, I hear the screaming, yelling, and crying and I cringe, not knowing how she does this day in and day out. For a split second, I wonder if this is the wrong time, but I push all of that to the back of my mind and just decide to knock.

The second she opens the door and I see the bags under her eyes, the complete exhaustion of her body, and the way she almost looks relieved that I’m there, I question why I didn’t come sooner.

“Mark?” she breathes like she can’t believe I’m here and before I can answer she peers behind her then steps outside and closes the door behind her. “What are you doing here?”

“What do you mean why am I here? It’s been three days of me texting and calling, Harlow. Did you think I would stay away forever?”

She just shrugs and leans against the closed door, her eyes peering into the window where she can see the kids playing.

“I’ve been busy,” she deflects, crossing her arms over her chest and my alarm bells go off. The way she won’t keep my gaze, the way her arms are crossed over her chest, and the fact that she looks like she’s going to be sick all make the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

“What’s going on, baby? Why are you ignoring me?” I whisper, trying to get closer but she backs away, hitting the door with a thud so I stop, my eyes bugging out of my head. “What’s going on, Harlow?” My voice is more demanding now, the fear seeping through every word.

“Nothing is wrong, Mark, I just need some time,” she mutters right before a kid screams and she panics, turning and running into the house where I follow.

I shut the door behind me and when I do, I take in the disaster that is her living room.

Toys litter the floor, like land mines waiting to take you out the second you step on them, and as I lean against the doorjamb that leads into the living room, I look down, seeing her purse lying there open. But it’s not the purse that catches my eyes, it’s the photograph that is sitting right on top. A photograph of my house. A photograph of my face blacked out along with Ethan’s.

As I bend to pick it up, white noise fills my ears, the room tilts for an instant and the second I flip that photo over and see those two words written on the back, all rational thought leaves my brain as I look up and see Harlow staring right at me.

“Mark—” she says right before I cut her off by shaking my head and making my way outside because all I want to do is scream and I very much don’t want to scare all the children in that room.

Who the fuck would send something like this? What the hell is happening right now?

The second I hit the porch, Harlow is there, shutting the front door once more, the photograph still grasped in my hand as I fight the urge to crumple it where I stand.

“What the fuck is this?” I mutter, the words direct and almost emotionless because I can’t believe she hid this from me.

“Nothing you have to worry about.”

My mouth drops open because she can’t be this dense to the ramifications of a photograph like this, a threat like this.

“You really believe that, don’t you?” I ask, questioning if the woman standing in front of me is the same woman I fell for in that hut four years ago. The mother of my child and yet a stranger.

“I’ve been dealing with this for years, so please spare me the lecture, okay? I don’t need your judgment.”

I stagger back, her words hitting me like daggers to my chest. “Years? You’ve been sent shit like this for years?”

She shakes her head, turning to open the door but stops and holds out her hand.

“Can I please have the photo?”

I shake my head and hold the photo behind my back. I need answers and if this is the only way to get them, I will hold them hostage.

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