Tenacious bastard.
“Yes.” I sit down at my desk and grab the file on school funding I was reading yesterday.
“And did you actually sleep when in bed?”
I shoot him a filthy look.
“That’ll be the reason you’re such a joy to be around this morning, then.” He sighs and takes a seat opposite me, leaning back in his chair and resting one ankle over the other.
I grunt in response.
“You want a coffee from the place on the corner? Beats the ones we have here, and I’m even offering to pay.”
“No, thanks.” I keep my eyes fixed firmly on the document in front of me, even though I have read the same line three times and still have no idea what it says.
“Turning down free coffee? It’s worse than I thought.” Stuart picks up a paper and starts flicking through it.
“Hey, what the fuck? Is this today’s?” I grab it clean out of his hands and slam it down on the desk so I can read the headline.
‘He’s won the city. But has Walker lost the girl?’
Underneath is a picture of Harley getting into a cab outside The Songbird’s private entrance, and me watching her with a grim expression on my face.
I scan the story and my jaw tightens at the mention of her being seen ‘visibly upset’ and ‘traveling with two suitcases’. They fail to mention what happened before the photos were taken. The longest embrace, where I held her in my arms and stared into her eyes, telling her she didn’t have to do it. That we could go back upstairs and talk about it. Followed by me loading her luggage into the trunk when she refused. And then watching her drive away, feeling the most confused I think I have ever been in my life.
None of it makes sense.
The Harley I know is buried underneath a sad cloak she’s now wearing. She’s worried about something. Maybe even scared. I’m convinced there’s more to it. She has this way about her, this aura. But yesterday when she told me she was leaving and gave me a load of shit about it being because of the spotlight of me being mayor, it was gone.
Completely extinguished.
And I know worrying about me taking office wouldn’t be enough to do that. It just wouldn’t. It’s something else. Something she won’t tell me.
“Shit, man.” Stuart turns the paper so he can read the headline. “Is this true?” He looks at me and I tip my chin and nod once. “Wow, I don’t know what to say. I thought you two were… You okay? Or is that a stupid question?”
I crack the knuckles on my good hand, grateful for the loud snap that echoes around the room, accompanied by short-lived relief. My other hand is still bruised and a little cut up from punching the wall in the apartment like a moron and then causing Harley to knock Bruce over. I’ve never felt like such a jerk before.
I look at Stuart. “So did I… Turns out she didn’t agree.”
“Shit,” he says again, his eyes returning to the paper.
Yeah. Shit.
I don’t tell him how not only did I not sleep last night after watching Harley pack up all her things, but that I almost lost my shit when I saw her shampoo in the shower today. The smell of it just made me picture her. I lubed my dick up with it so aggressively, I’m surprised I didn’t start a fire.
But it did nothing to quell this sickening emptiness I’ve had since she left. Even when I came, I felt nothing. It’s like she took all my pleasure with her. Packed it into her suitcases and left me with none.
Then I opened the kitchen cupboard and was greeted by a sloth smiling at me like some smug-ass little motherfucker. Reminding me that if Harley has her way, I will never taste her again, never sink to my knees for her and lose myself in her. Never wrap her in my arms and be the reason for her laugh. Never see her walking around in those fluffy slippers and ugly deformed cat pajamas while she talks to her plants.
I will never haveher.
“I’m sorry. You want to talk about it?” Stuart’s question breaks into my pity party for one.
“No.” I jerk my head roughly. The last thing I need is to get behind on preparations for taking office and give the press more ammo to hurl my way. I grab a new file and open it. “We’ve got lots to do. Let’s get on with it.”
The rest of the day passes in a blur of paperwork, interviews, and meetings over at city hall. I’ve shaken more hands than I can count and faked a perfectly happy smile until my face felt like it might fall off. The only time it slipped was when I introduced myself to the City Council leaders, and one of the females said she hoped I was feeling okay. She didn’t have to mention Harley, but I knew from the extended time she held my hand and the way her eyes softened as she spoke that she was talking in a personal, and not a professional capacity. I recovered quickly enough. She probably didn’t even notice the split second that my heart crashed to my feet. As nice as she was, I was relieved when Stuart and I joined some of the staff for dinner afterward and she didn’t join us.
Talking about work is easy. But talking to strangers about Harley? Absolutely not. I may have a believable, fake smile. But today taught me that where she’s concerned, it’s not as impenetrable as I thought.