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  Fuck, I hope Harper’s not here today.

  I walk slowly to the family room, nodding hello to co-workers and patients as I go. My body freezes when I step into the room. There on one side is Sadie, looking as angry as ever, and on the opposite side is Harper.

  Shit.

  How in the hell am I supposed to concentrate on Sadie’s needs while wondering what Harper is thinking the entire time?

  I thought I’d trained myself not to feel much of anything anymore, but the anger, hurt, and desire I feel toward Harper is confusing the hell out of me.

  Greeting both women without looking at them, I sit in my usual chair and clear my throat.

  “I know last week’s session didn’t end very well. I’m wondering if either of you has anything to say about what happened before we move on.”

  I force my eyes to look at Sadie first, and she looks exactly the way she does every week. No eye contact, picking at her nails, silent. When she and I have our private counseling sessions or when I see her walking around the building, she’s much different. She smiles and seems friendly. It’s obvious the change is due to Harper’s presence, but is it out of hatred or guilt? Unfortunately, I still don’t know.

  Bracing myself, I finally look over at Harper. Shit, she looks just as bad as I do, if not worse. We share the same red eyes, and she looks like she literally just fell out of bed.

  Do not feel guilty, Luke. She’s in the wrong. Not you.

  I clear my throat before asking her if there’s something she wants to share.

  Her eyes fill with tears, and I’m overcome with the need to catch those that fall, but I refrain. I watch as she straightens her back and looks directly at Sadie. “Mom,” she says. “I’m sorry for yelling at you last week. I stand behind everything I said, but I know I was disrespectful in my delivery, and for that, I apologize.”

  She’s amazing. She has no idea how strong she is.

  Sadie doesn’t say anything, but she does stop fidgeting.

  “Sadie, what was your relationship with Harper like before rehab?”

  “Which time?” She laughs, her voice scratchy from too many cigarettes.

  “This time.”

  She shrugs. “I don’t know. We didn’t talk much, maybe once every two weeks or so. Harper would call and check on me. She’d ask me how I was feeling and if I needed anything, like clothes or food.”

  “How did that make you feel?”

  “It felt good. Everybody likes to feel taken care of, right? It was nice to get that from her after all I’d done for her.”

  A gasp escapes from Harper. “What exactly did you do for me?”

  “I gave up my life for you, sacrificed everything for you, Harper. You’re just too stubborn to admit it.”

  “Stop trying to be the martyr here, Mom. No one’s buying it.”

  I’m silent as the two ladies argue, hoping it will be more beneficial than harmful for them to voice their feelings to each other.

  “You’re just like your dad,” Sadie spits out.

  “Well, that makes sense, seeing that he was the one to raise me.”

  Sadie starts to stand up, but I quickly decide to intervene and redirect. “Sadie, your relationship with Harper is currently on rocky ground, to say the least. You want to make it better, right?” I ask, pausing for a second. “Do you foresee a time when the two of you will be closer? More civil, at least?”

  Plopping back down in her chair, she lets out a humorless laugh. “How can we? She loathes me and wants to keep me locked up in here forever. I can never trust her. She’ll be watching over me, just waiting for me to mess up so she can bring me back here.”

  Harper turns and looks at me, grief-stricken. “What do I do with that? I’m damned if I do and damned if I don’t. There’s no winning with her.”

  My heart breaks for her because I know she’s trying so hard. She’s always tried so hard, but she’s at her breaking point now, and I can’t stand to see her so hopeless.

  “Sadie, maybe we should put these family sessions on hold for a bit...take a couple of weeks off. You and Harper don’t seem to be making any progress, and I’d hate for it to impede your recovery or put greater strains on your relationship with your daughter. Your only daughter,” I emphasize, hoping it sinks in. If she doesn’t have Harper, she doesn’t have anyone, and she’s going to need someone in order to stay sober after she leaves.

  “Yeah, maybe you’re right.” Sadie stands and heads for the door. “I could definitely use a break from this shit.”

  The door slams shut, and Harper and I are left in complete silence. That is, until the sound of sobbing catches my attention. Harper is shaking, crying so hard she can barely catch her breath. I don’t think. I just go to her.

  She’s doubled over, hugging herself while she cries, and there’s no way we can both fit in her chair. I wrap my arms around her and pick her up, pulling her onto my lap when I sit on the floor. I hold her and stroke her hair, and fuck me, this feels too good...too right. I push my complicated feelings aside and simply console her. It’s been ages since I’ve held a woman like this, but I don’t allow myself to think about that either.

  After a few more minutes of crying, Harper calms down. I feel her body relax and melt into mine, and I allow my arms to tighten around her. Just a little while longer, and then I’ll have to let her go. I don’t want to, but I have to.

  Harper sits up and looks at me. I take the opportunity to wipe the tears from her cheeks, marveling at how soft her skin is.

  “I’m so sorry, Luke.” Her words are whispered and soothing, and I want to forgive her. Maybe I already have. It still doesn’t change things, though.

  I shake my head at her. “Don’t worry about that right now. You have enough on your plate. You should go home and rest.”

  “Will you walk me home?” she asks, her eyes pleading.

  What is she trying to do to me? My resolve can only last so long. Fuck.

  Before I can answer, her mouth is on mine. I think we’re both surprised by her boldness, but she quickly acclimates and increases the pressure of her kiss. My mind and body are at war, one wanting to run away, while the other wants to lay her down right here and take her, make her mine. The feel of her tongue brushing against my lips makes my resolve crumble, and I open for her, my tongue welcoming hers greedily.

  Harper quickly straddles my lap, and I grab her ass to pull her roughly against my growing erection. Her moan drives me wild with lust, and I know I’m heading into dangerous territory.

  With willpower I didn’t know I had, I begin to slow down, eventually pulling away from her. Her mouth is swollen and red and perfect, and the hooded look she gives me makes my cock impossibly harder.

  I close my eyes because if I keep looking at her, I’ll end up fucking her here on this floor, and she deserves so much more than that.

  “We have to stop, Harper.”

  “Why?”

  “This can’t happen for us. We can’t be together.”

  A look of heartbreak crosses her face, but it quickly turns to anger. “What, am I not good enough to be one of your window-fucks, Luke?”

  I recoil as if she just slapped me. “It’s not about that. There are many reasons this can’t happen, a very big one being that it’s unethical.”

  “I don’t buy it. If you were so worried about ethics, you wouldn’t have asked me out in the first place.”

  “You’re right. I shouldn’t have asked you out. I shouldn’t have even had coffee with you. I thought I could keep things simple and platonic...I tried, but we’ve let things get out of control. You think you know me and want to be with me, but you don’t. You can’t. I’m no good for you, Harper. The sooner you accept that, the better off you’ll be.”

  “No, I don’t want to accept that.” Her hands grip my shoulders as she shakes her head. “You feel it too. I know you do. You’re just scared to admit it. I don’t care about the other women. You’ve changed. I see it. You went from screwing wome
n four or five times a week to nothing since we met. You can’t tell me that doesn’t mean anything.”

  Anger courses through me as I’m hit with the realization of just how much Harper has watched me. I scoot her off me and stand up. I need air. I need to get the hell out of here.

  “Luke, please let me explain. I’ll tell you everything, I swear.” She stands and throws herself at me, wrapping her arms around my neck so she can kiss me again. Before I can push her away, the door opens, and Sarah walks in.

  “What’s going on here?” she asks, her cold tone filling the room. Her equally cold eyes scan over us, taking in the way Harper’s wrapped around me. “Mr. Walker, I think it’s best you stop and think about the repercussions of your actions before this goes any further.”

  Sarah and I only get along when we’re fucking, but I know this is her way of helping. If any other colleague had walked in and caught Harper and me together, this would’ve played out differently, most likely with me being fired immediately.

  I take a step back and wipe my mouth. “Don’t worry. I’m done.”

  I grab my clipboard and walk out the door and then out of the building. I don’t look back.

  Harper

  My first thought as I wake to the sun coming through my window is, please let this all be a dream. Or nightmare, rather. I feel like I’ve been watching my life unravel before me, wanting to push pause or eject, tell myself to stop and turn the other way, but it keeps going...and getting worse by the second.

  Yesterday, after I took things from bad to worse and kissed Luke, I wanted to crawl in a hole and die. What if I ruined his career? What if he gets fired because I acted on carnal desires? I feel so selfish, so humiliated. I shouldn’t want to see him again, but I do. I need to have one last chance to apologize, to try to explain, and then I’ll go like he asked me to. But I can’t live the rest of my life wondering if he hates me. Hell, I might even hate me.

  The thought of having him tell me to leave again makes my chest hurt, but if I don’t get rid of some of this guilt I’m carrying, it’s going to bury me alive.

  I thought a lot about everything last night as I lay in bed staring into the darkness. The way he looked when I told him the truth. How it felt when my lips touched his for the first time. It wasn’t the way I had fantasized. He didn’t take me against the window like I had imagined. I claimed him. The second he wrapped his arms around me, I knew his touch wasn’t going to be enough. I had to have him, taste him. I wanted to consume and be consumed. It was all me. All my fault.

  And then Sarah walked in.

  I saw the second Luke changed. He’d been giving back, giving me what I wanted, but then he shut down. He went from hot to cold. The last words he spoke as he walked out the door cut like a knife.

  I’m done.

  And I know he is, but that doesn’t change my need to apologize.

  Swinging my legs off the bed, I put my feet on the cool wood floor. As I look toward the window, I feel the pull to go to it, but since that’s how I got myself into this mess in the first place, I refrain. I know what I need to do.

  After a quick shower, I put on some clothes and pull my still damp hair into a ponytail.

  On my way out the door, Mr. Chan calls my name. I look down at my phone and see it’s a little after noon. I have a few minutes, so I turn around and walk back to the door that leads into the restaurant.

  “Hi, Mr. Chan.”

  When I peek around the corner, the old man is chopping vegetables behind the counter.

  “How’s your mother?” he asks, keeping his head down as he works.

  His question throws me straight back into that room, hearing her raspy voice say she’s tired of this shit and knowing that by shit, she means me. “She’s uh, getting better, I guess.” It’s crazy that after everything she's done and all that she’s said, I still can’t talk bad about her. “She’s had some bad days, but it takes bad ones to get to the good ones, I suppose.”

  He looks up from the vegetables and squints his eyes until they’re almost shut, examining me. “You need to do what’s right for Harper,” he says in his thick accent, pointing the knife in my direction. “Mother need to take care of herself. It be good for her.” He nods his head and then goes back to chopping. “Have good day, Harper.”

  I can’t help the small smile that forces its way onto my lips. “Thanks, Mr. Chan.” Somehow the simple words of a wise old man make me feel a little better. They might not change my circumstances, but they confirm what I was already feeling—that it’s time to let my mother do things on her own. I can’t want it enough for her. If Sadie is going to be sober, it’s going to be on her own terms and because she wants it. I’ll just have to be okay with whatever the outcome is.

  I put on a brave face as I begin my walk down the sidewalk and push thoughts of my mother to the back of my brain. I can only handle one fucked up situation at a time, and right now, I’ve got to make things right with Luke, or at least make an attempt to do so.

  When I climb the steps to the big wooden doors, I take a deep breath before going inside. I know this is a free place of worship and anyone can enter, but I also feel bad because once again, I’ve taken the liberty of inserting myself into Luke’s life by knowing things about him that he hasn’t freely given.

  I silently promise myself that this is the last time I’ll cross these boundaries.

  After letting my eyes adjust to the darkness of the foyer, I peek through the window on the door, taking inventory of the pews, looking for a specific head of untamed hair. I only pull the door wide enough to slip in, trying not to draw any attention to myself. Keeping my hand on the door, I allow it to shut behind me silently. Once inside the nave, I hear something that sounds like angels singing. It must be a recording because I can’t see a soul in the giant choir loft above the altar. The music is beautiful, and I want to pause for a moment to listen, so I slide into the very last pew on the right side.

  The wood creaks as I sit down, but not one head turns. The twenty or so people who are seated in front of me must be deep in prayer or meditation.

  I look around for Luke but still have trouble making out identifiable characteristics. As my eyes roam the expanse of the room, I relax into the hardwood, allowing myself to just breathe and reflect. The colorful painted windows cast a unique light into the old building and make it easy for me to forget my problems, if only for a minute. I can see why Luke comes here.

  Maybe the priest would let me move in.

  Now that I think about it, I see no reason to stay in the city anymore. I came here for my mom, and she doesn’t want me. I would stay here for Luke, but he doesn’t want me either. I don’t have anything waiting on me in Middletown, but it seems like the logical place to go. Maybe I can get my old job back.

  As I’m mulling over my future, a tall form rises from one of the front pews, walks down the side, and disappears into a confession room.

  I know it’s Luke, so I wait.

  A few minutes later, when he reappears, I watch him as he pauses for a moment at the back of the pews. When he exits the large oak doors, I follow him.

  The afternoon sun practically blinds me, and I block it with my hand, searching for him on the sidewalk.

  “Luke,” I call out when I see him getting ready to cross the street.

  He stops immediately, his back stiffening. I hate that he has that reaction to me. Slowly, he turns around, shoving his hands down into the pockets of his jeans. “Harper?”

  “Hi.” I know I sound stupid, but I didn’t rehearse this.

  “Did you follow me to church?” he asks, tilting his head.

  “I, uh…” The truth, Harper. If I’m here to apologize and somehow make amends, I’ve got to shoot straight. “Yeah, I’m sorry. I actually followed you here once before.” I bite my lip and turn my head, trying to keep myself from running. His beautiful blue eyes are so confused, so frustrated. I can’t bear to look at him. “I just needed to tell you how sorry I am.”
>
  There’s an awkward pause. I’m hoping he’ll say something, anything to make me feel like I’m not a complete idiot for coming here today, but he says nothing.

  “I know you think the worst of me, and I know what I did yesterday—kissing you—was a big mistake. I hope I didn’t cost you your job, because you’re really good at what you do, Luke.”

  “You’re not completely to blame,” he says coldly. “I led you on, made you think there was more when there wasn’t, when there couldn’t be.”

  I nod, willing myself to not be hurt by his words. “Yeah, well, I’m also sorry about watching you.”

  “Stop, Harper,” he pleads quietly.

  “No. I need to tell you that it’s not as bad as it sounds.” My voice cracks. “Can we go somewhere besides here and talk?” I ask, not wanting to do this in the middle of the sidewalk.

  “There’s a bench over in the cemetery.”

  He takes off walking in the opposite direction, and I follow him.

  When he gets to the bench, he sits down and rests his elbows on his knees, clasping his hands together. I sit on the opposite end and wipe my now sweaty palms on my jeans.

  I start to question myself, asking why I even thought this was a good idea, but then I remember I haven’t been acting very smart lately, and then there’s that runaway train thing that I can’t seem to get off of.

  “What did you need to say?” His tone is bristly, not the smooth comforting sound to which I’ve grown accustomed. I can tell by the way he lets his head hang down and his eyes remain closed that he’s losing patience with me.

  I’m losing patience with myself.

  I let out a deep breath and start telling him everything—how the binoculars were in the apartment when I moved there, how lonely I was when I first moved to the city, how I didn’t just watch him when he was having sex, how I became attached to the man behind the window, and then later, how I became attached to the man on the other side.

  “And lastly, I’m sorry for invading your privacy and maybe more importantly, for not being upfront about what I knew about you. But in my defense, if you don’t want people watching, you shouldn’t fuck women in your open window.”