My gaze moves to a woman in her late forties. I know this isn’t Harlow’s mother, not only because of the age but because this woman is a brunette, and I’ve seen pictures of Harlow’s parents in her condo. She inherited her fiery-red hair from her mom.

  This woman is wearing a pair of black pants and a red silk blouse.

  “Hi, Carina,” Harlow says with a smile as she straightens. “This is Stone Dumelin.”

  Carina moves forward, holding out her hand. “Welcome, Mr. Dumelin. Can I get you anything to drink?”

  “I’m good right now,” I reply.

  She tips her head toward a hallway that goes past the right side of the curved staircase. “Your parents are in the sitting room waiting for you.”

  “Thank you,” Harlow says and takes my hand to lead me away.

  “Who was that?” I ask in a low voice.

  “I’m sorry,” Harlow murmurs, glancing back over her shoulder as Carina heads off in the opposite direction. “That’s my parents’ housekeeper.”

  “That totally blows my stereotype of wealthy people making their help wear uniforms.”

  Harlow laughs. “I told you my parents don’t care about physical trappings such as clothing and uniforms. They judge people on their own merit. Besides… Carina is so valuable to them, she could show up wearing a clown costume and they would be fine with it.”

  Harlow leads me into the sitting room that looks like nothing more than a formal living room, decked out with antique furniture, heavy silk rugs, polished dark flooring, and what looks like expensive art on the wall. The huge fireplace is currently unlit, a recognition of the spring weather barreling into Pittsburgh.

  I get my first glimpse of Mr. and Mrs. Alston. They’re sitting on a couch placed perpendicular to the fireplace. There’s a matching couch across from them with a coffee table in between.

  Harlow’s dad has his arm draped over the back cushion, his fingertips playing affectionately with his wife’s shoulder as they talk. He looks very distinguished with silver at his temples, and while he’s not wearing a suit, he has on a dress shirt and tailored pants with what look to be very expensive dress shoes. Mrs. Alston is wearing a dress and high heels—and wow, Harlow is the spitting image of her mother.

  They both turn their heads our way and stand from the couch when we enter.

  Harlow lets my hand go and moves to her parents.

  “Hi, honey,” her dad says as he hugs her. Harlow moves to her mother and receives the same greeting, although her mother also kisses her cheek.

  Harlow then moves back to my side and takes my hand in hers.

  “Mom… Dad… this is Stone Dumelin. My boyfriend.”

  Neither one of the Alstons raise an eyebrow or blink in surprise at that announcement. This is only because Harlow had given them a heads-up that our relationship had changed from friends to something more. Harlow assured me her parents were greatly pleased by this, but I wonder how they can be because they don’t know me at all.

  Maybe they think I’m just like Brooks, and that’s good enough for them, because Harlow told me they adored my brother.

  I move forward, shake both of their hands. “It’s nice to meet you. Thank you for inviting me to dinner.”

  “We love to have guests,” Harlow’s mom says, her hands encompassing both of mine. “And please let me offer our condolences over your brother’s passing. We adored him and he’s sorely missed.”

  “Thank you.” I wasn’t ready for that and I have to swallow hard the emotion that brings up. “I’m glad you got to know him.”

  Both of her parents smile sympathetically, but move on from the heavy moment when her father asks, “I’m sure Carina has already offered, but would you like a drink?”

  “I’m good, Mr. Alston. Thank you.”

  Harlow’s mom waves a hand. “Please… it’s Robert and Celia. Not Mr. and Mrs. Alston. And I have to ask, are you refusing a drink in deference to Harlow?”

  I’m not prepared for that question, but the answer is easy enough. “I am.”

  Harlow’s parents shoot each other a look, and I can tell my response impresses them. Which has no effect on me. I don’t do it to impress them. I do it for Harlow.

  “Well, dinner won’t be ready for at least half an hour. Let’s sit down and chat.” Harlow’s mom motions to the furniture, and we take a seat on one of the couches while her parents reclaim their original places. Loki and Freya had followed us in, and both lie down before the fireplace to our right.

  It looks like a fucking Norman Rockwell painting.

  “My apologies in advance,” Robert says as he levels me with an apologetic smile, “but I am quite the Titans fan, and I will probably have a million questions. I want insider information on how things are going with the team.”

  I laugh, also having been prepared for this. Harlow warned me that her dad always pestered Brooks for the same. “Lay it on me, Robert. I shall divulge anything I can.”

  We talk about hockey, politics, and oddly enough, the city of Cleveland where I played with the Badgers. Harlow’s father apparently had a case there that lasted three weeks, and he got to know the city quite well.

  In less than the half hour predicted, Carina announces that dinner is ready, and we all move into the formal dining room, which holds a massive table that seats twenty-four. I’ve never seen anything like it in my life, and I can’t even imagine having a dinner party with that many people. But I suppose when you have that level of money and sophistication, you probably hire out every bit of the work that needs to be done to entertain formally. I mean… who even has twenty-four place settings in their cupboards?

  We congregate at one end of the table. Robert takes the head, Celia to his right. Harlow and I are to his left, and we dine on several courses, including an appetizer, soup, salad, and the main course of lamb. The food is impeccable, and I wonder if they eat like this every night. While I’ve made tremendous money in my hockey career, playing with the Eagles and now the Titans—but not with the Badgers, because the pay there sucked in comparison—I’ve never experienced this level of wealth.

  Yet Harlow’s parents aren’t overly formal. They’re quite down-to-earth and charming, much like Harlow.

  As dinner progresses, we talk about a variety of subjects. At one point, Celia mentions Harlow’s brother Brian, who is due to come in for a visit in a few weeks.

  “It’s his birthday,” Celia explains to me. “We’ll throw a big party when he gets here. Of course, you’ll have to come, Stone. It will be a very good time.”

  “And just how long will my dear brother be staying?” Harlow asks dryly.

  I’m well aware that Harlow has a bit of frustration that her brother won’t grow up and decide what he wants to do with his life, preferring to jet around the world on his trust fund.

  But I also know she loves him very much and doesn’t truly begrudge that he’s having fun. She certainly has the right to do that with her trust fund if she wanted, rather than use it to fund her law practice for lower-income people.

  Harlow’s parents also don’t seem to have a problem with Brian being a professional playboy. But not in the sense that they don’t care about his future or that they’ve written him off. On the contrary, they actually have some level of confidence that he’ll have true success one day when he’s ready to become that man.

  As we make our way through the meal, I am increasingly aware of the differences between Harlow’s parents and mine. Each set of parents has two children. Their offspring have had varying levels of success. But if you compare Brooks and me to Harlow and Brian, the differences are stark and make me aware of how unlucky Brooks and I were.

  Harlow did not want to follow in her family’s traditional footsteps of working for her family’s law firm. This would be akin to me telling my father I didn’t want to play hockey.

  Harlow’s parents supported her decision. My father would have berated and then disowned me.

  Harlow’s brother, Brian, is unambitious and without drive or direction—the complete opposite of his parents and sister. Yet they are giving him the space to find his own way and have confidence in him that he will one day succeed.

  My brother was an alcoholic, gay man who was too afraid to be himself. If my dad had ever known those things about Brooks, he not only would’ve disowned him, I’m quite convinced he probably would’ve tried to beat the gay out of my brother.

  I can’t help it, but I have a surge of intense jealousy that Harlow has parents who are supportive and loving, no matter if their children are flawed.

  Her family is utterly perfect. Everything any kid could hope for.

  But even though I admire them and I envy Harlow, part of me doesn’t respect her parents. It’s a shitty, judgmental way to be, but I wonder why they don’t bring her brother in hand and insist he do something productive with his life. And there is a small part of me that wonders why her father didn’t do more to keep Harlow with his law firm. It’s an incredible family legacy that she turned her back on. I know she’s immensely happy doing what she wants, and I want her to be fulfilled, but wasn’t there some common ground that could’ve been explored? Couldn’t her father have worked harder to make it so she could stay in that law firm without the pressures she was experiencing?

  Maybe he’s not so perfect after all, and I realize I’m actually giving credence to my father’s hard and unyielding ways by finding fault with the Alstons.

  I don’t know why these ugly feelings are rearing up inside me. I think it has to do with the fact that I’m a bit overwhelmed with how a happy, normal, functioning family operates. The mere fact that I have slight echoes of my father in my thinking terrifies me. Perhaps I’m more like him than I want to admit. Otherwise, why would I be looking for fault in the way the Alstons raised their kids?

  I manage to be involved and engaged in discussion throughout the rest of the meal. Over dessert, I push some of those ugly thoughts aside as we talk about the cabin Brooks left me. It’s in Potter County, where Robert often goes to hunt and fish. “You’ll absolutely love it there. If you like peace, solitude, and the occasional bear, I’d highly recommend it as a wonderful getaway.”

  “We’re hoping to go in a few weeks so he can take a look at it,” Harlow says. She reaches over and puts her hand on mine. I look at her, and she says, “Right? Didn’t you want to go take a look?”

  “Yeah. Of course I do,” I say automatically, but I feel odd and disconnected from her. The more differences I see in our parents, the more I wonder if we’re suited for each other.

  Harlow gives me a funny look, then turns back to ask her father a question about a legal case on which she wants his opinion.

  I tune out and unfortunately start to question if I can live up to the expectations that Harlow or her family might have of me. I certainly failed all of my father’s. If they knew some of the thoughts I just had about their parenting abilities, they’d probably do everything in their power to insist Harlow not have anything to do with me.

  And I can’t quite seem to shake those feelings, even after we say our goodbyes and head back across the river to Allegheny West.

  When we make it back to our building, I follow Harlow as we pass the door to my unit. I’ve been staying at her place every night when I’m in town, mainly because of Odin. She pulls out her keys and unlocks the door. When we enter, Odin comes up for a greeting.

  After the appropriate amount of scratches, Harlow takes off her coat and hangs it on the rack.

  “You were so quiet on the way home,” she says lightly as she puts her purse and keys on a small table. “Feeling okay?”

  I stand there, not sure how to answer that question. I don’t feel okay. Somehow that simple dinner with her parents has made me doubt things.

  When I don’t answer, she tips her head. “You going to take off your coat and stay awhile?”

  I should take off the fucking coat and put all these crappy thoughts out of my head. I should take Harlow in my arms and kiss her, knowing that her taste alone will drive the darkness out.

  Instead, I take a slight step back and put my hands in the pockets of my coat.

  “Actually, I think I’m going to go out and get a drink, if you don’t mind?”

  It was perhaps the dumbest thing I could’ve said. I can see it in her expression… wariness and suspicion.

  Not suspicion that I’m off to meet someone else, but she is now skeptical of whether I want to be with her. She has every right to be, because up until this moment, I have a hard time keeping my hands off her anytime we’re together. Whether it’s to strip her naked or to just hug her, I have become utterly enchanted with giving and receiving affection from Harlow.

  The mere fact I want to go somewhere else is a red flag. That I told her I want to get a drink is a slap in the face.

  And I think I meant for her to get both of those things.

  Something hardens in Harlow’s eyes, and she crosses her arms over her chest. “What’s wrong with you?”

  I’m immediately defensive. “Nothing’s wrong with me. Can’t I have a bit of time to myself?”

  It’s classic deflection. Turning my problems back on to her. Making her the bad guy.

  Harlow’s too smart for that. She’s never going to put up with that shit. “Try again, Stone. Something’s up your butt, and I want to know what it is. You’re not the type to just go cold on me like this. The truth.”

  The defensiveness melts away, and I have no fight left. But it doesn’t mean I’m not still spooked as shit by the prospect of committing to Harlow. The expectations on me are now incredibly high, and I don’t know if I can reach them.

  I also know I have to be honest with her, so I boil down my issues. “I don’t know if I’m good for you.”

  Harlow’s expression softens, and she makes a step for me. I hold up my hands to stop her and shake my head. “Let me get this out. I need to get this out, so you know where I’m coming from.”

  Harlow’s expression pinches with worry, but she steps back. “Okay. You can tell me anything, you know.”

  I nod, deciding to take a page from my brother’s book. “I know I can. Just as I know you will understand when I tell you that I feel like my world is constantly shifting underneath me, and I can’t get my balance. And while you are one of the best things that has ever happened to me, you’re also the one who’s knocking me the most off balance.”

  “I see,” she murmurs.

  I shake my head. “I don’t think you really do. You know the surface stuff. You know what my family is like and the problems I’ve had. You see a guy who isn’t quite like my brother, but that I’ve got potential.”

  “You’ve got more than potential, Stone. You’re an amazing man.”

  I shake my head hard, because she’s not getting it. I look at her with a tortured expression. “You don’t get it… I think I am more like my father than I am the man you need me to be. When we were just at dinner, I was getting angry about your brother. I was wondering why he couldn’t get his head out of his ass and be a better person. I was angry at your parents for not doing more to make him grow up. I was even angry at your dad for not doing something to help you stay with his firm. All this is completely ridiculous, but I realize that I am so trained by my father to try to control everything, I don’t know if I’ve got the ability to be understanding of what other people are going through.”

  “That’s not true. You were understanding of Brooks and even understanding of what I go through with alcohol.”

  “Sympathy, Harlow. But I don’t know if I can understand it. In the long run, I always want to be able to support you, no matter what. But Christ, I’m pissed at your parents for their parenting, which is completely fucked up because they raised an amazing daughter. What type of person does that make me?”

  Harlow motions toward her living room. “Maybe if we sit down—”

  “No. I don’t want to talk about this. I’m confident I’ll eventually ruin what we have. I didn’t have a good role model. Things are new and fresh with us, so things are easy. I don’t know how to be truly supportive when the going gets rough. I don’t think I can do this relationship because I’m pretty sure that failure and disaster are coming, and it’s going to be completely my fault because I don’t know how to do this.”

  Harlow comes toward me, and I hold my ground. She steps right into me and puts her hands on my cheeks, forcing me to look at her. “You’re having a moment, Stone. It’s bound to happen. The past hasn’t been kind to you, but you have to push past it. I know you can.”

  I wrap my hands around her wrists and pull them away from me, holding them in place. “You have a faith in me that isn’t deserved, Harlow. You don’t even really know me.”

  Disappointment fills her eyes. She pulls her hands free and steps backward. “If I told you right now that I was craving a drink, and I absolutely needed to have one, and that I was going to do it no matter what you told me… would you think the worst of me?”

  “I don’t know.”

  I can tell by the look on her face that’s exactly what she expected. I know she was hoping that I would say without a doubt that I will always support her, but I don’t trust enough in my values to give her that. My father didn’t give me reliable values by which to live. He made me look out only for myself.

  Her voice is so soft, I can barely hear it. “I am far from perfection. As wonderful as my life is, it can get ugly and messy at times. I can handle it on my own. I don’t need you. But if you are standing by my side, I need to know you’ve got my back. Forget everything else that you were just talking about, everything that is plaguing you right now. If you can’t emphatically state that you would have my back no matter what… no matter how ugly things got… then I need you to walk away from me.”

  Those words shock me. Because when I walked into her condo a few minutes ago, I had intended to walk away from her. All that ugly doubt and judgment felt like an oily sludge within my veins, and I was determined to walk away.

  Instead, she’s telling me to go. She’s making the decision because she is assured of what she wants and needs, whereas I’m not sure about anything.