“I found these at your house. Nan and Pop sent them to me every year on my birthday, and every year you kept them from me. Why would you do that?”

  Her mother takes a breath, purses her lips together, and then speaks, finding her angle. “I’m sorry. Did you say you found these?”

  “Yes.”

  “Found them where?” Her mom stares at her like she’s caught Harley in a trap. But my girl is undeterred.

  “You know where I found them,” Harley says crisply. “Where you hid them from me. In your bathroom cabinet.”

  “So you were actually snooping?”

  Harley blows out a long stream of air. She stares at her mother, eyes wide open, and nods. “Yes. I was snooping. Because I saw the first card the day after my birthday, and I went back looking for more, and guess what? Where there’s smoke, there’s a lot of fire. Because I discovered you did this, year after year. Why? Why would you do that?”

  “I think the more germane question is, why would you go looking through my things?”

  “Mom, don’t act like you have the moral high ground, because you don’t. I was looking through your things because you took something from me. You took my grandparents away from me. How could you do that?” Her voice threatens to break, but she stays strong. I don’t want her to give her scumbag mother the satisfaction of seeing a single tear.

  I stare at her mom, and I can see the cogs turning in her conniving brain. She doesn’t want to lose Harley. She rearranges her features, pushes her bottom lip out, and speaks in a low whisper. “Sweetheart, I planned to give you the cards. I had marked twenty-one on the envelope, because I planned to give them to you when you turned twenty-one. And you just turned twenty-one a few months ago, and haven’t been speaking to me. Ergo…” she says, holding her hand out wide, as if this simple numerical justification will make Harley say, Oh sure, of course, that makes perfect sense.

  “But why did I have to be twenty-one to read a freakin’ birthday card from my grandparents? It’s not like there was anything inappropriate in there. They were full of stories about animals and the beach. There was no reason for you to keep them from me.”

  Her mom reaches across the black lacquered table and tries to clasp Harley’s hand. Harley recoils, and I want to pump my fist.

  “There are things you don’t know,” her mom says in that same calm, steady voice.

  “Things that would make what you did okay?”

  “Harley.” She lowers her voice to a whisper, and I wonder if she’s forcing herself to speak so quietly because otherwise she’d explode. If there’s one thing her mom would hate, it would be a public scene. “Things about your father. About why he left me.”

  “Like what?”

  Her mom casts her eyes at me. “Can we talk about this privately?”

  “Mom. I’m going to tell him anyway. I don’t keep secrets from Trey. You might as well say it.”

  She clasps her hands more tightly, and then starts fidgeting with her watchband. “You might think I just cut you off from them. But your father was the one who cut us off. I was protecting you from him and his family. He cheated on me countless times. Over and over. He was a sex addict. That’s why I left him, and when I left, I didn’t want you to have anything to do with him or his family. And he didn’t want to have anything to do with us, since he never stayed in touch, okay?” She stops to take a drink of her wine. “Now you know the truth about your father. He was a serial cheater, and an addict. His parents and I tried to help him, to get him to go to therapy, and I fought like hell to make things work. That’s why you spent the summer with them when you were six—because your father and I were trying to fix things. But it didn’t work. Are you happy, now that you know? Harley, some things don’t need to be dragged into the light. Some things are better left unsaid. But there, you made me say it.”

  Harley doesn’t say anything at first. I watch her closely, and she swallows hard. “I’m pregnant.”

  Her mother cringes. Visibly cringes. Like, her whole face spasms. “What?”

  “That’s why I’m not eating the rainbow roll.” Harley pulls down on her sweater, stretching the fabric across her belly, showing the swell.

  “Oh my Lord in heaven,” her mother says, flinging a hand over her face. “Please say that’s a lie. Please say that’s not true.”

  I pipe in. “It’s true.”

  She uncovers her eyes. “Are you the father to my little girl’s baby? Or was it one of your clients? Please tell me it wasn’t my Phil,” she says, her lips quavering.

  “Are you kidding me?” Harley says to her mom, raising her voice and finally snapping. “Seriously? You should be ashamed of yourself, for not being able to do math correctly, if nothing else. I’m four and a half months pregnant. Besides, I never slept with Phil or anyone else. Trey is the only man I’ve ever been with and will ever be with. I’m not like you. And I’m not like my father. I don’t sleep around, so don’t try to go there with me. But let me tell you something. This baby will know things I never knew. Like love. Like trust. Like having good parents. Because I have one great wish for my baby, and it’s that I never ever raise my child the way you raised me. I hope I never see you again.”

  Then she tips her forehead to the front of the restaurant and walks away, leaving me alone at the table with her mother. It’s then that the waitress comes over, placing a sushi platter in front of Barb and a yellowtail roll before me.

  “I’ll be right back with the udon noodles,” she says, then flashes a smile as she returns to the clatter and the noise of the kitchen. In the background, I hear snippets of conversations and the faint notes of a pop song playing softly overhead.

  I’ve often dreamed of telling Harley’s mom exactly what I think of her. Of giving her a mug that says Worst Mother in the World. Of calling her unfit and spitting on her. But now that I’m here, none of those seem satisfying. Harley’s mom is irredeemable, and I’m not going to stoop to her level. Instead, I think of what Michelle would tell me to do. Speak your truth.

  Because words are all we have, and her mother might be unmoved by them, but this isn’t about her. This is about her daughter. The woman I love with every ounce of my heart and mind and soul.

  “I’m no angel, Ms. Coleman. I’ve done plenty of bad things in my life. But I know this much. That’s not how you treat people you love. That’s not how you treat anyone. You’re lucky—and by lucky, I mean it’s absolute luck and chance, and it has nothing to do with you—that your daughter is not on the streets, or worse. Everything she has made herself into is because of her, because of her heart, because of all the places in her that you could never touch,” I say, pointing a finger at her. She is implacable as she sits steely-eyed, arms crossed, staring harshly at me. “She is who she is, not because of you, but in spite of you. I know this too—she’s going to be an amazing mother to our child, and it has everything to do with her, and absolutely nothing to do with you. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to take her home.”

  Then I reach into my wallet, leave some bills on the table, and walk away, leaving her mother exactly where she belongs.

  Alone.

  16

  Trey

  “I thought she would change,” Harley says, wiping a hand across her cheek.

  “Some people never change,” I say, softly kissing her tears away.

  “But we changed, right?” Her brown eyes are so earnest. “We both worked so hard to change. To live differently. To leave the past behind.”

  “Yeah, we did, and we do. Every day. But it wasn’t and it isn’t easy, and we both wanted to change. Your mom doesn’t. But she doesn’t know how to either. She doesn’t have the skills or the tools.”

  “I just hoped she’d apologize. Or have a good reason. But when she said that about my father, it was so cruel. I felt like she slammed me. Like I was seeing stars.”

  “I can only imagine,” I say, and I wrap my arms around her and pull her even closer to me on the futon at my place, which will soon become our place.

  “Do you think it’s true? What she said?”

  I shrug. “I have no clue.”

  “It just seemed so mean. Like she wanted to hurt me. I don’t think she ever loved me.”

  “Harley, she’s not a good person. She doesn’t know what she wants. She doesn’t know how to love.”

  “It just hurts so much. I don’t think I’ve ever known love before you.”

  I smooth her hair and kiss the top of her head. “But now you know it, and you’ll always have it. And I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

  I can feel her smile, even in the darkness. There’s no music on now, just the soundtrack of New York City playing through the closed window, the faraway noises of tires on asphalt, of alarms from cars, of buses trundling down the street. Here, inside, we are safe in our world.

  “You won’t now, will you?”

  I shake my head and hold her tight. “You are everything to me. You are the most important person in the world to me, and I will do anything for you,” I say, then I lower my voice to a whisper, as my hands make their way to her belly. She’s carrying my child. It’s such a humbling thought, and such a heady one, and it still scares the hell out of me, but it also makes me love her even more. “And for our baby.”

  I hear the tiniest little sob escape her as she leans her head back against me, her neck stretching out, long and inviting. “I’m getting fat.”

  I shake my head again. “No. You’re even more beautiful. And who the hell knew that could happen, because you were already perfect.” I inch my hands under her sweater, my palms now against her belly, skin to skin. “I think you’re even sexier, Harley.”

  “Oh, stop. I’m not sexy.”

  “No. You’re wrong. Because you’re insanely sexy, and you’re having my baby, and there is nothing sexier than that.”

  She turns, and now her arms are looped around me. “You’re crazy. I can’t believe you’ve gone from freaking out to being all You’re so sexy.”

  I laugh. “Don’t you see? I might have freaked out, but I’m not freaking out now. I’m here, right here, loving you.”

  She presses a soft kiss to my lips. “Show me love, Trey.”

  “Always,” I tell her, and then I trace her face with my fingertips, the pads of my fingers mapping her beautiful features, memorizing them, even though I know all of her by heart and still can’t get enough of her. I brush the backs of my fingers against her cheek, and she sighs as she leans into my hand. She closes her eyes, savoring my touch. I am gentle with her because she likes it when I am and because she deserves it and because I want her to feel loved. Especially now, after that dinner, when she’s hurt and vulnerable, when the person who was supposed to love her most in the world kicked her once again. But now I’m that person—the one who loves her most. “I’m your family now, Harley. You know that, right?”

  She nods into my palm, her eyes still closed, but her lips curved into a sad, sweet smile. “I know that.”

  “It’s not something I will ever take lightly,” I tell her, and then I end all conversation with a kiss, a slow, tender kiss that says everything. With the press of my lips against hers, I am telling her I cherish her. As I taste the soft underside of her bottom lip, I am saying always. As I cup her cheek and bring her near, I am letting her know that my love for her is boundless.

  Her breath mingles with mine, and she tastes so good, so sweet, and I want so much more of her. I want to connect with her so deeply, to take away all her pain, to erase the sadness. I want her to know what love is, and that she has it with me, forever.

  And judging from the way she’s wriggling and starting to moan, she wants more than kissing. A hell of a lot more. In seconds, she’s kissing me harder and crawling up on me, straddling me as she wraps her legs around my waist. She grabs my hair and starts to rock her hips against me. Then she breaks the kiss to look at me.

  “I’m so horny,” she tells me, then laughs.

  I laugh too. “And presumably you like me too?”

  “I’m so horny, and so in love with you. Is that better?”

  I nod. “Much better.”

  “Make love to me now, please,” she tells me.

  “Happily,” I say, and shift her from my lap so I can take off my clothes. I tug off my shirt quickly because I want to watch her undress.

  I love the way she strips. There’s nothing especially unique or overtly sexy about how she disrobes, but she doesn’t need any tricks to get me hard. What I love most is that it’s her, taking off her clothes for me. So she can be naked with me, and me alone.

  “God, you’re so gorgeous it should be a crime,” I say as her jeans hit the floor, then her underwear. She’s standing in the dark, the moonlight casting its silvery glow across her pale skin. Her legs are strong, muscular from walking everywhere in the city. Her breasts are perfect, and I cup them in my hands, so full. And her belly that used to be flat is now growing round, and I place my palms on it, smoothing them against her warm skin.

  I pull her down on the futon, so I’m flat on the bed and she’s straddling me. “Ride me,” I whisper.

  She takes my cock in her hands, rubbing me against her entrance, and I curse loudly, my body humming with the need to be deep inside her. “You’re so wet, Harley. I can practically feel you dripping on me.”

  “I am so wet,” she says, and her voice is thick with lust, as she rubs all that delicious heat against me. “I’m so turned on, it’s crazy. I want you so much.”

  “Then stop teasing me,” I say, and she does, sinking down on me in one quick move, and burying me deep inside her. My eyes roll back in my head. The pleasure is so intense. It obliterates all my brain cells, reducing me to nothing but this moment, to the extraordinary feeling of her on me. I love how slippery she is as she starts to ride me, finding her rhythm as she moans greedily. Then she reaches for my hands, linking her fingers through mine and gripping me tight. She leans forward, her blonde hair tickling my chest, my cheeks, my shoulders.

  Watching her, I can’t believe how lucky I am that I not only get to have her, but that I can make her feel this way. Soon, she starts to move frantically, feverishly, like she’s driven solely by the mission to get off.

  “Harley,” I rasp out, not even sure what I’m saying. “Harley, I love you so much. I love everything about you, and I’ve never been more in love with you than I am right now.”

  She inhales sharply, her eyes closed, her face strained, her breathing erratic. She squeezes my hands even tighter, grabbing them hard as she thrusts herself up and down on me. She’s so close, and I love seeing her lose control. Witnessing her come apart.

  “Trey,” she moans, and she opens her eyes, but she can’t focus, and I like it that way. She’s giving in to the sensations, and so am I, because soon I am coming undone with her.

  Afterward, she collapses on me. Her breasts are damp with sweat. I hug her tight, hold her close, and brush her hair away from her ear. “Did that work?” I ask into the quiet night.

  “Um, yeah. Couldn’t you tell?”

  I shake my head. “That’s not what I meant. I meant, did I show you love?”

  “Yes. You and me, this is what love is.”

  17

  Harley

  “Did you pack everything?”

  “For the five thousandth time, I’m a dude. I don’t need that much stuff.”

  “Shorts? Did you pack shorts?” I ask, as the maroon-uniformed doorman grabs the handle and holds the door open for us. “Thank you,” I say to him, and Trey does the same.

  “I don’t own shorts.”

  “But we’ll be at the beach.”

  “Then I’ll buy shorts when I’m there.”

  “You really don’t have a bathing suit?” My boots click against the marble floor. I unloop my scarf as we walk to the elevator. A piece of yarn snags on my earring, and I tug once gently, then it loosens.

  Inside the elevator, he taps my cold nose, all red from the blisteringly brutal fall we’re having. Okay, late fall. But still, it’s bitter, and I can’t wait till tomorrow when we leave the city for San Diego. Even if we were heading to the Arctic, I’d be excited.

  “The rumors are indeed true. I do not own a bathing suit. But I can’t wait to see you in a bikini,” he says.

  When we reach his parents’ floor, I fluff out my hair, wanting to look good for them. As I brush my fingertips against my earlobe, I find my earring is gone.

  “Crap. I must have dropped my earring in the lobby. I’ll be right back.”

  “I’ll go with you,” he says, but then his phone rings. He grabs it from his back pocket, and his eyes light up. “It’s Ilyas.”

  “Take your call. I’ll be right back.”

  On the ground floor, I quickly spot my earring and hook it back in my ear, then I return to Trey’s floor as he’s finishing his call. “That would be great. Thank you, Ilyas. I appreciate this so much.” He ends the call and holds out his arms. “He wants to hook me up with a shop in San Diego this week. Says there’s some guy there who does world-class designs. He wants me to see them.”

  “That’s so great,” I say, and I hug him. “So, you ready for this?”

  A dark cloud crosses over his green eyes. “Do we really need to tell them tonight?”

  “The longer we wait, the harder it gets.”

  “Yeah, since you can’t hide it much longer,” he teases as he pats my belly.

  “Haha. You’re so funny.”

  The fork hits the ground with a resounding clang.