I should, I think about everything that’d have to be done to actually have sex. And it’s just not worth it.”
“What’s to be done? Find a hot guy. Do the deed.”
Harper rolled her eyes.
“Sex requires knowing the guy, which requires more than three dates, which means being away from Nathan. That requires a babysitter, which until recently, was a luxury I couldn’t justify. Now that I can, I find I don’t really want to.” Harper straightened. “It’s just not worth the trouble. Or the risks.”
Andi opened her mouth, then closed it again. “I’m not trying to psychoanalyze or anything. Believe me. But do you think that’s the reason you aren’t interested in sex? That the last guy you had it with got you pregnant, then walked out?”
Harper didn’t physically move, but she did withdraw. She could actually feel herself pulling away, closing in. She didn’t talk about that time in her life. Partly because there wasn’t a whole lot to brag about when it came to teenage pregnancy. And partly because she hated talking about her past. She hated even thinking about it.
But mostly she kept quiet because she was afraid. The last thing Brandon had said to her after she’d told him she was pregnant was goodbye.
Right before he’d uttered that word, though, he’d warned her that if she didn’t get an abortion, his parents would take the baby. If they knew they had a grandchild, they’d insist on raising it to be a proper Ramsey, and there was nothing she’d be able to do to stop them.
Harper had believed him.
She hadn’t obeyed him, of course.
But she’d definitely believed.
She’d kept her pregnancy a secret from everyone she knew, cleaned out the college savings she’d been hoarding since she was eleven, stuffed her clothes in a backpack and ran. She’d changed her life. She’d become the opposite of where she’d come from. And she’d kept quiet. Because she had no doubts about the reality of Brandon’s threat. If his parents knew about Nathan, they’d try to take him.
She had built a life that would be hard for them to challenge if it went to court. She was an upstanding citizen with a thriving career; her son was happy and healthy and attended one of the best private schools in Santa Barbara. Their lifestyle wasn’t as affluent as the Ramseys’, but it was good. Solid. No custody court would say otherwise. If it ever came down to it, nobody could justify taking Nathan from her.
It wasn’t until she felt Andi’s hand close over hers that Harper realized she’d been silent for way too long. And that her hand was trembling.
“Sorry,” she said, dismissing her anxiety with a laugh.
“I’m the one who’s sorry. I shouldn’t have pried.”
“It’s been a long time. It’d be pretty stupid of me to let him control my choices after all these years, wouldn’t it?”
“I don’t know, Harper. Maybe leaving you high and dry, never contributing a penny to help raise his child and never once contacting either one of you is a good enough reason to avoid sex.”
Harper frowned.
“If he’s the reason I’m avoiding it, maybe it’s time to reconsider,” she murmured, half to herself. At Andi’s whoop of delight, she shook her head and rushed to add, “I said reconsider. Not run out and have tons of wild, sweaty sex. Just, you know, maybe consider keeping a guy around for a third date.”
“That’s the only opening I need,” Andi all but sang. As she patted Harper’s hand in support, she asked, “So, what’s your preference? Dark hair or light? Working class or businessman? Butt or biceps?”
“Butt or biceps?”
“Yeah, which is your trigger? I’m going to find you the perfect man,” Andi vowed with the fervency of an evangelical minister on cable television.
Harper was rescued from having to decide by the back door swinging open. In swirled her very own seven-year-old tornado.
Her heart melted just a little at the sight of her son dancing into the room. His elegant features were alive with delight, smudges of dirt on his chin and cheek and his hair, the same burnished gold as her own, tumbling over his brow.
“Mom, guess what. Louie Dryden’s cat had kittens. Five of them. She had ’em on his bed, too. He got pictures on his iPhone and it was, like, so gross.” He stopped talking long enough to drop his prized baseball onto the counter next to the bowl of apples.
He threw his arms around his mother for a quick hug, grabbing his ball again before remembering to offer the same to the other woman. “Hey, Andi. Do you want a kitten? Now that all the gross is off them, they’re really cute. Tiny, with lots of black hair. Kinda like you.”
“Aren’t you the charmer?” Laughing, Andi squeezed him tight before ruffling Nathan’s hair. “And what am I supposed to do with a kitten?”
“Love it, of course,” Nathan said in the same tone he’d use to remind her the sky was blue. “You’d have to take care of it and give it food and stuff, like Mom does me. You pet it a lot and maybe let it sleep on your pillow next to you. Then you’ll have something to play with, and you won’t get lonely.”
He turned guileless brown eyes on his mother, his wide smile all the more enchanting for its missing teeth.
“If Andi gets one, you should, too, Mom. It could keep you company if I went to summer camp.”
The pitch for a kitten had been going for several weeks now, with Harper standing firm on her no. But camp was new. Ever since he’d found out a few days ago that his best pal, Jeremy, was going, Nathan had been begging to attend. But it was two weeks away, on an island, with strangers. Three strikes, no camp.
“Nice try,” Harper murmured, shaking her head both at his ploy and at her quite possibly overprotective concerns. “Dinner is in a little less than an hour. Why don’t you go play until then?”
She knew his face as well as she did her own—better, actually. So Harper could easily read the struggle in his eyes as he fought the urge to push.
Then he shrugged.
“I’m seriously starving. Can I have something to eat before dinner?”
“An apple.”
“Thanks.” Nathan grabbed the apple and his baseball, then headed out of the kitchen. At the arched doorway, he glanced back. “Do you think kittens like stories? I bet I’d get a lot of extra reading done if I had to read to a kitten every day.”
Harper smiled as she got the glass pitcher down to mix the juices into Nathan’s favorite.
“He’s only seven, and he already knows when to push and when he’ll get more by simply walking away,” Andi murmured with an appreciative shake of her head.
“The rest of the time, he uses charm, guile and a golden tongue,” Harper agreed. In that respect he was so like Brandon.
Andi waited until they heard his footsteps fade up the stairs before giving Harper
