Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 45063 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 225(@200wpm)___ 180(@250wpm)___ 150(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45063 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 225(@200wpm)___ 180(@250wpm)___ 150(@300wpm)
“But you can’t just switch off your feelings like a switch,” Harper says passionately.
I nod along with her, knowing how right she is. I’ve tried. For a year, I stifled the feelings, tried to think about anything else, and tried to pretend there wasn’t a Harper-shaped hole in my life that needed filling.
I’ve tried to guide my mind away from thoughts of Harper all week and what could’ve happened in the car if I’d kissed her. Would she have told me to stop? Would she have said, “No, there’s somebody else. It may be unrequited, but it’s real”?
“What if you have to?” Tiffany responds firmly. “For survival?”
I get the sense they’re drawing on personal experience. Perhaps Tiffany knows about Harper’s would-be lover. It’s a mistake to let myself think about Harper’s potential lover for even a second. It floods me with an unfair rage and makes me want to find whomever it is and make them pay.
Make them pay for what, though? For dating a beautiful, clever, kind, and interesting woman?
“Find somebody else,” I imagine myself roaring, standing over them with all the agony of my unrequited want surging through me, turning me savage. “She is not yours, and she never will be.”
Harper takes a moment to respond to Tiffany’s question.
“Sometimes it’s not a question of if you have to. It’s a question if you can. What if you can’t let somebody go? What if the idea of letting them go makes you so miserable you’re afraid you won’t ever be happy again?”
“Jeez,” Tiffany responds with a light chuckle. “I thought this was supposed to be an upbeat podcast. Sorry, folks.”
Harper laughs along with her, but I can sense the tragedy in her voice, the unashamed need to be with this man, whoever he is—to give herself to him fully, without question, to spend the rest of her life with him.
To part her thick, gorgeous legs and show her young, ready sex, already soaked in anticipation, waiting for her man’s cock to slip between her folds and…
I somehow stop the fantasy before it gets out of control, and I become a slave to it, as I’ve been countless other times, unable to think beyond the thought of her body. Her body that belongs to me.
Forcing my hand to my phone on the mounted hands-free tripod, I stop the podcast. I can’t listen to it, to my woman’s voice without going insane.
More insane, since my need for Harper has already made me a madman.
After handling business for Adam, I drive across the city to visit Eva’s grave. I’ve held off visiting her on my own, not wanting to impose, but I can’t ignore the special connection Eva and I shared.
I can’t obliterate all the times she voiced her darkest fears to me, weeping as she wondered aloud if she’d ever be free or happy. I can’t forget the look on her face when I told her I had to go. I couldn’t stay forever.
Strange guilt touches me as I walk across the cemetery, and I look over my shoulder as if expecting Adam to appear any minute. I remember the fight we had, a weird thought to occur right now, but it’s there all the same—taunting.
“I’m sorry, Eva,” I say, laying flowers on her grave, next to the fresh ones which surely came from her widower, my best friend. “I know how much hope you had for the future. I know how badly you wanted all your dreams to come true. I’m so sorry it had to end like this.”
I stand in silence for a time, wondering if she’s smiling at me from someplace, how she used to smile before life rushed ahead.
Leaving her grave, I drive toward my hotel room, wishing I could go to my old house instead, but I kept my word when Adam asked me to leave. I sold it with no intention of returning.
I could see my best friend’s agony when he made the request, his wish for it to end differently. There was a flicker there, like part of him regretted urgently making the demand, but once Adam makes his mind up, he rarely changes it.
Rarely.
That word hammers in my mind.
We’re rebuilding what I shattered. I can’t ruin that by dreaming endlessly about Harper.
My cell phone rings. It’s Adam.
“Hey,” I say, answering.
“How’s it going?”
“All sorted,” I tell him. “No issues.”
“Thanks. This means a lot to me. I’ll be ready to get back to it soon.”
“There’s no rush.”
“You must be bleeding cash, living here.”
I’m not sure how to respond without sounding like a jackass.
Adam laughs gruffly, a hint of the man he was before Eva passed.
“What am I saying? You’re not just a doctor, eh?”
There’s a light teasing note in his voice, and I laugh along with him. He’s talking about my obsession with investing, beginning in my twenties when I first started practicing medicine, when the student debt mounted.