She thought about how the evening had started, with him admitting to thousands of dollars of debt, and now this. She felt cold and sick and lost. She needed her mom, only her mom was a continent away, in Santa Barbara.
Still crying, she got out of the car and started for their apartment. Kip put his hand on the small of her back. She quickly stepped to the side, away from him.
“Don’t,” she said, her voice thick with pain. “Don’t touch me.”
“I know you’re upset,” he began.
She wiped her face and glared at him. “Upset? I’m not upset. Upset doesn’t begin to describe how I feel. You lied to me. You lied!”
“I didn’t.”
She hurried toward their apartment and fumbled with the key. After letting herself inside, she ran to the bathroom and locked the door. Once she was alone, she pulled out her phone.
She needed to get away from Kip. She needed to figure out what was going on. With her mom gone, the house was empty—appealing under other circumstances, but not these. She didn’t want to be by herself. Enid was living at home for the summer to save money, so that wasn’t an option.
Harlow quickly texted her brother.
Can I sleep on your sofa for a couple of nights?
Three dots appeared right away. Sure. I’ll even loan you a pillow.
Despite her pain, she smiled as she answered. Thanks. See you in a few.
She walked out of the bathroom and found Kip waiting for her in the hall.
“I didn’t lie,” he repeated.
She moved past him. “Don’t go there. You lied by omission.”
That was what got her. He knew how she felt, but he’d done it anyway.
Once in the bedroom, she pulled an overnight bag out from under the bed and opened it.
Kip swore. “You’re leaving?”
“I can’t think around you.”
“We have to talk.”
She looked at him, grateful for the bit of mad welling up inside of her. Anger was strength. Anger was safe. At least if she was pissed, she wouldn’t feel stupid and small and broken.
“You’re right, we do need to talk, but not tonight.” She wiped away her tears and glared at him. “You’ve had nearly a year to talk, Kip. You’ve had months and months to tell me about being married before and your credit card debt and who knows what else. So you know what? I get a break here. I get a little time to find my way through all this crap, and you just have to deal with that.”
Frustration twisted his expression. “You can’t run off at the first sign of trouble.”
“A year,” she repeated. “You said nothing. Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do. When it’s been a year for me, then you can judge.”
“Harlow, please.”
She returned to the bathroom and collected her cosmetics. After tossing them in the suitcase, she grabbed a stack of T-shirts from the dresser, then heard the front door open and close.
She dropped the T-shirts and ran into the living room. Kip was gone. He’d left. He’d done this to her, to them, and he’d walked out first. Like he wasn’t wrong.
The shock of his leaving knocked the air from her lungs. She sank down on the floor and gave in to sobs that shook her body. She cried as if her heart was broken—probably because it was. She was still crying when she heard the front door open, footsteps, then strong arms pulled her into a warm hug.
Only it wasn’t Kip. Instead her brother held her tight.
She clung to him, the only solid point in a rapidly spinning world.
“He left,” she managed, her voice shaking. “We had a fight and he walked out.”
“I got worried when you didn’t show up, so I came to check on you. I’m glad I did. What do you want to do?”
She looked at her brother. “I want to come stay with you.”
“Let’s go.”
* * *
“Hello?”
“Robyn. Glad I caught you.”
It took her brain a second to process the familiar voice. Recognition was followed by a sense of dread.
“Jase?” She swore silently, reminding herself to check who was calling before answering.
“I wasn’t sure you’d pick up.”
She wouldn’t have if she’d known it was him. “Why wouldn’t I?” she asked, telling herself it was a question and therefore not a lie.
“I know you’re upset with me, and with good reason, but I wanted you to know I miss you.”
Information she didn’t need or want. “Okay.”
“Losing you has shown me how important you are to me. I made a terrible mistake, and I’m sorry.”
She wasn’t sure what to do with that information. “You’ve already apologized. It’s fine.”
“It’s not.” His voice dropped. “If it was fine, you’d still be here in Florida, instead of wherever you are.”
“How did you know I was gone?”
“I ran into your house-sitter.”
“Oh.” Sucky timing, she thought. What were the odds? “I’m in California, visiting my aunt Lillian.”
He sighed. “I was hoping you were closer so I could convince you to give me a second chance.”
“Jase, we’re done. I don’t mean that harshly, but it was never going to work between us. You saw me as someone who was after your money. There’s no way to get over that.”
“How many times to I have to tell you I was wrong? You’re not that person. I get it now.”
“Even without that, we wouldn’t have made it long-term.”
Yes, he’d hurt her feelings, but the truth was that since landing in California, she hadn’t thought of him at all. As for missing him—not even for a second. Whatever she’d thought she had with him either hadn’t existed or had faded way faster than it should have.
“I wish you the best,” she said quietly. “And I hope Galen is doing better.”
“She is. We’re hopeful. Robyn, can’t I convince you to give me another shot?”
“No. I’m sorry.”
“Me, too.”
He hung up.
She tossed her phone on the bed, then flopped down on her back. Why was it the second she didn’t want the man, he was all over her? Jase’s pursuit was so perverse as to be almost comical.
“Men,” she muttered, then stood and shook her phone. “Not taking your call again.”
With her notebook, she went to her aunt’s room, knocking on the half-open door before entering.
“It’s me.”
“Out here, darling.”
Robyn walked through the large sitting room and bedroom to the patio. It was overcast and chilly, but still beautiful. Today the ocean was gray rather than blue, and the seagulls seemed especially loud. The only spots of color were the flowers in pots.
She checked that Lillian was well protected by warm blankets, then sat next to her.
“I think that painting in the laundry room is a Picasso.” She showed Lillian the picture she’d taken. “I’m not sure which surprises me more—that you have a Picasso or that it’s in the laundry room.”
Her great-aunt laughed. “The location does seem unusual. I’m sure it got there by accident.”