Page 27 of Not My Love Story

“Wow,” Emilia said, the sound drawn out. “I… What did Hayley say to you?”

“It’s not her.” He ignored the snort of disbelief on the other end. “I’ve just been thinking a lot since I got here, about what I’m doing. Who am I writing for? What am I trying to achieve?”

“Those are pretty big questions for a Thursday morning. Have you found the answers yet?”

Across the restaurant, Hayley was smiling brightly, talking with a server while they refilled Harrison’s cup.

“Maybe. But I think I’ve been avoiding them.”

By the time he returned to the table, her attention was buried in her notebook. The familiar sight made Harrison smile. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d wanted to savor the morning like this.

The coffee refreshed him, and he relaxed. Until something pressed lightly against his calf.

He looked across to Hayley, who was still writing, focusing on her notebook like nothing was amiss, her expression soft, serene. Except that was definitely her foot curled around his leg. Not moving, just… anchored. Connected.

Harrison shifted enough to press back —good morning— heat jolting through him when her lips curled a little extra in response.

He downed the rest of his coffee.

“Want to get out of here for a bit?”

Her smile was blinding. “Desperately.”

* * *

Tuesday, they’d turned left, so today they went right, leaving the hotel for the riverside. While evidence of the Valentine’s festivities continued to dominate every inch of the city, it grew impossibly more incessant the farther they walked, all signs pointing — in some cases, literally — to the fairgrounds, where marquees and stalls were being erected for Saturday.

As they approached the entrance, Harrison spotted what had drawn Hayley there. A 50s-era Cadillac in bright pink was parked on the grass, the front doors and trunk open and overflowing with flowers.

“Mmm, it must be nice.”

Harrison glanced over, but Hayley’s attention was squarely on the display. Keeping watch, he hummed, curious.

“The one time I received flowers, I sent them to myself.” Hayley bit her lower lip, and Harrison fought to keep his attention on what she was saying. “All through high school, I had a crush on my best friend, but he wanted someone else. I sent myself a bouquet with a fake card, hoping he’d get jealous, but…” Her arm brushed his when she shrugged. “It was exactly as pathetic as it sounds.”

It killed him that her smile didn’t reach her eyes. He wanted to find this asshole and make him pay. Then drive that entire ridiculous flower car over to the hotel and stuff their room full of the blooms.

“It’s not pathetic at all.”

And before he could overthink it, he laced their hands together and walked them straight over to the car.

Beside it stood a woman with a skull-patterned blouse and a conflicted look on her face.

“Morning,” she said as they approached. “You wouldn’t happen to be Wanda’s friends, would you?”

“Oh. I’m sorry, no,” Hayley answered, sounding genuinely disappointed that they weren’t.

Harrison reined in a smile.

The woman, Charlie, explained that she was a few helpers short. “At this rate, we won’t make the festival at all.”

Hayley was admiring a large display, packed to the brim with flowers. “These are beautiful. Will they last the weekend?”

“Oh yeah, they’re all fake. It’s the only way to keep them photo ready for the next three days. You’d be amazed by how many people will come to take a photo with the car.”

It was official. Harrison was getting old. Not “kids these days” old, but he didn’t understand the appeal. Sure, the car was beautiful, and the flowers too, but really?

“Oh yeah,” Charlie said. “Actually, I need some promo shots for our socials. Care to be my guinea pigs?”

---