Chapter 28
Harlow
"Travis!" Shelby yells his name. "She’s here," I hear when I get out of the car and look over at my parents parking behind me.
"Hey," I greet, putting my hand over my eyes to see her and smiling when Travis comes out of the house. He walks down the steps at the same time that my parents get out of the truck, and my brothers pull up behind them in another truck.
"You’re here," he says. When he gets close enough, he puts his hands on my face and bends to kiss me. "Hi," he adds between kisses.
"Romeo," Clarabella says from behind us. "You want to get out of the way so we can get the things unpacked."
"Yeah, that sounds good,” Reed says, getting out of the truck. "You go and direct us and we will bring out the boxes."
"Um, Harlow," Presley says. "Besides two hot married brothers, do you perhaps have any available cousins?"
I shake my head and laugh as I walk up the steps to what my new home will be. This past week has been bittersweet. I’ve said goodbye to my family, and even though I said I wasn’t saying goodbye, I got sad thinking that I wouldn’t see them every day. We walk into the house, and I look around, seeing it almost empty.
"Oh my God," my mother says from behind me. "Um, honey." She looks over at Travis, then around the bare room. "Did you live here?" she asks, stepping in just as shocked as I am.
"He did," Clarabella shares. "Trust me, it’s better now than before." My mother looks at him and then at me with tears in her eyes.
"What the hell?” Quinn says, carrying in two boxes. "Were you robbed?"
"As if anyone wanted his stuff," Shelby says, laughing.
"I didn’t know how you felt about my stuff," Travis says. "So I got rid of it, and tomorrow we can go and pick out all new stuff."
"Oh my God," my father says when he hears my mother squeal.
"Great, now you’ve done it," I mumble to Travis when my mother rushes over to us.
"I’ll do it," she says, looking around, taking out her phone. "Leave it to us. It’ll be our present to you."
"You did it now," Reed says from behind Quinn. "You’ve woken the beast."
"You." My mother points at Reed. "Who did your house?"
"Mom, we had to baby-proof glass tables," he says, dropping the box. "And everything was white."
"It was neutral, and it’s fine," she hisses out and then looks at my father. "You see what you did. You did this." She puts her hands on her hips. "You turned them like this."
"Me?" My father points at himself. "How did this become about me? All I’m doing is moving my only daughter six hours away from me."
Now Quinn and Reed both groan out. "Here we go,” Reed grumbles. "Can we unload the truck before it gets dark out, because I have to get back to the kids."
It takes them two hours to unload all the boxes, and when I turn around, there are boxes everywhere that furniture should be. I hug my parents and brothers and fight back the tears, telling them I’m going to go and see them next week. When they finally drive away from me, I turn and bury my face in Travis’s chest. "Don’t cry." He rubs my back, and I hear a car pull up in the driveway. I turn and see his mother getting out of the car. "I brought food," she says, walking to the trunk and taking out two takeout bags. "I figured you guys would be hungry."
"Great," Shelby says. "Shall I grab pillows and we can sit on the floor and have a picnic?”
"We can sit in the kitchen. There are stools there," Travis says and glares at Shelby.
"We’ll make do," I say, wrapping my arms around his waist. "Also, I wouldn’t be surprised if we come home tomorrow and the house is fully furnished." I walk into the house and wonder if I should tackle the boxes today or start fresh tomorrow.
"Tomorrow," Travis says, bending to kiss my neck, and I shake my head and laugh that he knew what I was thinking.
"I’m starving, and there are only two stools," Clarabella says, grabbing a bag from her mother. "What do we have here?” She starts taking out the containers. "Pasta.” She puts it on the counter. "Chicken." She takes another one out. "Rice, veggies, garlic mashed potatoes, grilled chicken, and sliders."
"I’ll go get some chairs in the garage," Travis says, kissing my neck and walking to get the chairs.
"There are paper plates in this one," Shelby says, grabbing them and putting them on the counter.
"Does this count toward our weekly family dinner?" Presley asks, opening the containers for us to help ourselves. "I vote yes."
"This is a celebratory dinner," his mom says, smiling at me. She comes over and gives me a hug. "We are so happy you are here."
"I’m happy to be here." I smile at her, grabbing a plate and filling it.
"I don’t think we’ve ever had a meal here," Clarabella says, getting on a stool.
"We had breakfast here the day of his wedding," Presley reminds her, and then her eyes widen as she turns to me. "I’m sorry."
I chuckle. "I’m fine with it." I shrug. "He’s the one who gets reminded of it." I grab a piece of carrot. "Weekly."
"We had dinner here on his birthday," his mom says. "Last year."
I look down at my food, and I have this sudden feeling of sorrow that washes over me. "Yes, and he had the lemon cake," Clarabella says, moaning. "That was the best cake I’ve had in my life."
"I don’t know about you guys," Presley states, and I look up at her. "But I’m happy that you are here."
"Thank you," I say.
"It’s not just because you are nicer," Clarabella says. "And easier to talk to." I look at them, and then his mother clears her throat. "What? You can’t tell me you don’t see a difference in him."
"There is a huge difference," his mother shares. "It’s night and day. Every time I would invite him for dinner, he would just say yeah and come alone. Now I ask him about dinner, and he has to check with you."
The talking stops when he comes into the room with two chairs. "That’s all I found."
"That’s okay. I can stand," I say and he comes over and grabs a plate, coming to stand next to me when we eat. The talking is free around the table, and when he helps clean up, his mother sends him to the store to get milk for our coffee tomorrow. Clarabella and Shelby also take off with Presley following them.
"Are you okay?" His mother looks at me, and I smile. "It’s okay to miss home."
"I miss home," I admit. "But I’m happier that I’m here." I look around the empty house, and I can see myself having coffee every single morning. But more importantly, I can see us building our lives here.
"Are you going to be okay living here in this house?" she asks, and I see her nervously wringing her hands. "He was engaged."
"Yes," I confirm. "But she didn’t live here."
"That she didn’t," she says. "She barely came here. I think she did once, and then she was going to move in when they got married." She looks down at her hands and then up again. "I didn’t think I’d ever see him happy again." She blinks away the tears that are welling up in her eyes. "Every time I would ask him if he was okay, he would bark at me that he was fine, but I knew he wasn’t."
"I know how that feels. He wasn’t the only one not happy."
"When he told me he was getting married, I knew it was a mistake. God, I felt it in my bones. I tried so hard to be supportive, but then every time the wedding discussion came up, he just said I don’t care, just do whatever. Who does that?" She shakes her head. "I bet you everything that I have if I ask him about your wedding, he’s going to have a list of things that he wants done for you."
I can’t help but smile. "I don’t know Jennifer," I say. "And I don’t ask him any questions about it because well, it’s in the past, but I’m really, really happy that I got that invitation in the mail."
She looks at me, and I see her eyes twinkle. "I’m really, really glad I mailed it to you." She winks at me, and I gasp. "I knew that if he saw you, it would change his mind."
"What if I didn’t come?" I ask her.
"I would have had to fake a heart attack," she says, getting up. "Now I’m going to go home and celebrate having my son back." She stops next to me. "And getting a new daughter."
I hug her, and then she walks out of the house, leaving me all alone. Walking over to the fridge, I open it to put the leftovers in it and spot a new jug of milk. "Oh, well played," I say to the empty room. "Well freaking played."
I finish cleaning the kitchen when I hear his car come back. He walks in with two jugs of milk. "Did everyone leave?" he asks, and I nod my head at him. He pulls open the fridge and then spots the milk. "She played me."
"That she did." I laugh and lean against the counter. "That she did."
"What did she tell you?" he asks when he leans against his side of the counter.
"None of your business," I scoff at him. "I didn’t ask you what happened with my parents."
"I was too busy celebrating the fact I didn’t get shot,” he jokes, then looks at me. "I have to talk to you about something."
"What?" I ask nervously, standing straight up.
"Well, I was talking to my partners today," he starts saying. "And we were discussing bringing another vet in." My eyebrows shoot up.
"Just like that, out of the blue." I fold my arms over my chest, looking at him and seeing that he’s lying.
"I mean, I did mention to them that you were moving in with me after I took back the offer for them to buy me out," he confesses, and I shake my head. "And I did mention that you were way better than me." He comes to me and pulls me to him. "And I also said you would only do it if we would be able to have the same shifts."
"I have no words," I say.
"Good, you start in two weeks." He kisses my lips. "Now, can we go and celebrate you moving in with me?” He picks me up and then stops when he gets to the stairs. "Shit," he says. "We don’t have a bed."
"What do you mean you don’t have a bed?" I ask, shocked.
"I assumed that you were bringing yours," he says, and I wiggle down.
"Why the hell did you assume that?" I shriek at him.
"You." He points at me. "You always said how much you love your bed, so I assumed you would bring it with you."
"Did I once say, hey, I’m bringing my bed?" I yell at him. "Not once."
"Let’s go," he says, grabbing my hand and pulling me out of the house. He locks the door, and I don’t even ask him questions. Assuming that we’ll be going to a hotel and I’m suddenly so pissed at him. I sit in the car stewing mad at his idiotness when I see us pull up to the place where we spent his wedding night.
"What the hell are we doing here?" I ask, looking over at him. "Did you even get a reservation?"
"Don’t need one." He opens the door and steps out, and before I have a chance to open my own door, he’s there, pulling it open for me to step out.
"I don’t think you can just show up when you want to," I grumble when I get out of the car, and he fishes keys out of his glove box. I look around, seeing that it’s as dark as it was that night, if not darker, since there are no lights on in the house. "I think we are trespassing."
He closes the box and then the car door. "No trespassing," he says before walking up the steps. "This is my house." I look at him with my mouth hanging open. "Bought it four years ago when I moved back." He unlocks the door. "It reminded me of you."
"You bought this house?" I point at the house. "Because it reminded you of me, and you were going to spend your wedding night in it?" I glare at him.
"That was never going to happen," he tells me. "She didn’t even know about this house. The only ones who knew about it were my sisters and my mother." He pushes open the door.
"I have no words for you, Travis," I say, both shocked and lovestruck.
"I have three words for you," he says. "Welcome home, Harlow."