It Started with a Dog, page 30
They took seats in the egg baskets, turned to face each other. She proclaimed the martinis groundbreaking.
“I didn’t know you were a martini connoisseur.”
“I’m not. I honestly don’t know the difference between this and gasoline. But the name alone makes me want one.” She laughed. She sounded a wee bit tipsy. She was twisting in her basket, an act that Jonah feared would loosen it from its bolt above.
Harper lifted her glass and held it out for a toast. “Congratulations, Jonah,” she said when she twisted back. “You really did turn the Lucky Star around.”
“Are you admitting defeat?”
“I am admitting defeat,” she said cheerfully.
“Don’t. I told you before the only reason any of this happened at all was because of you. You showed me how to do it. If it hadn’t been for your smack talk, we never would have come up with half the things we did.” He definitely would not have hired Carly, and that, he realized, would have been a tragic mistake.
“That’s very nice of you to say, but this was all you and the gang.” She touched his glass with hers in a toast and sipped. She turned her gaze to the Lucky Star. They could see the silhouettes of the many people packed inside to hear Suzanna. “It’s going to be so much easier to hand the management off to your dad again, don’t you think? Your business is so steady, he can probably kick back and let it roll in.”
“No business is ever that good,” Jonah said. He couldn’t help himself—he sighed heavily. “About that.”
“About what?”
He put his drink down and leaned forward so he could better see her. “I’ve made up my mind. I’m not going to Madrid.”
She froze for a moment. Then put her drink aside, too. “Jonah . . . after you’ve done all this work? That’s your dream.”
“I know. I’ve thought about it, and . . . you know, my dad. My parents need me, Harper . . . now that my dad’s cancer has returned. And family is more important than a cool job.”
“But what about you, Jonah? What about all the hours you’ve put into getting that job? How can you let this go?”
“I’m not letting it go. It’s just that the timing is all wrong.” She opened her mouth as if she meant to argue. He said quickly, “There will be another project. I can’t get too worked up about it. You never know where life is going to take you, right? Look at us, for example.”
She was already shaking her head. “There may be another project, but you’ve also put in the work for this goal, and now it’s within your reach, and how can you not reach for it?” She glanced down at her drink. “This will probably come out all wrong, but . . .” She looked him directly in the eye. “Is it possible you are subconsciously putting barriers in your way that don’t have to exist?”
He chuckled. “Like I don’t have enough? What do you mean?”
“I don’t know . . . I’ve just never seen someone work so hard not to achieve something he’s worked so hard to achieve.” She blinked. “Good Lord, I sound like Soren. But do you get my point? Why are you making this so hard?”
He frowned. “I’m not making this hard. Life is making this hard. I can’t help it that my dad has cancer again.”
“No. And I’m so sorry about that, Jonah, I am so sorry. But did your dad ask you to take over?”
“No, but—”
“Or your mom? Or your aunt or uncle?”
He didn’t say out loud that they’d all specifically expressed they did not want him to take over. He shook his head.
“Well, maybe they didn’t ask because they can handle it.”
He didn’t like this conversation. She didn’t know if that was true, if they could handle it without him.
“I mean, people do all the time. They suffer hardships, but they keep going, one foot in front of the other. You don’t have to be the savior every time.”
“I’m not.” But he was. He knew, deep down, that it was the role that he’d carved out for himself as a little boy before he even knew what he was doing. He didn’t want to believe he was putting obstacles in front of himself. He was helping. That’s what he did—he helped his family, he helped others. That’s what they needed him to do.
But maybe there was some truth to what she said. He had to admit that in moments of quiet contemplation, he had wondered if he could even lead something as big and as important as this project. NASA was involved, for God’s sake.
Still, he wasn’t one to run from a challenge. He thought again of how gray and weak his father had seemed this last week. And he couldn’t see himself packing a bag and walking out the door when his father was sick. He shook his head.
Harper said nothing for the longest time. He hoped she wasn’t disappointed that he wasn’t as ambitious as her. But she suddenly leaned forward and cupped his face with her hand. “How are you such a great guy?”
He gave a rueful laugh. “That is not what you were thinking.”
“I’ve never known anyone like you, Jonah. I thank my lucky stars every day that I was in your Lyft. You are the best kind of guy, and you’re so hot, and I love you.”
Those words shimmied up his spine. “I love you, too, Harper,” he said quietly.
She stood up from her basket and came to his. She fit one knee beside him.
“Oh—”
She straddled him.
“Wait . . . I’m not sure these baskets are rated for this load—”
“They are.” She cupped his face. “Did you hear what I said? I seriously love you, and this is the first time I’ve ever said it, and I don’t know if I should go first but I need you to know it.”
“That’s . . . amazing.” His heart was suddenly thundering in his chest. He could feel it, could feel her love for him. “So just so we are all perfectly clear, I seriously love you, too.” His hands found her thighs. “Since about day one. Since the day I saw you walking down the street to me, I knew that this was different. You were different.”
“So did I.” Harper put her arms around his neck as his hands slid up her rib cage. She began to rock back and forth on him.
“Stop it—do you know what you’re doing to me? We can’t do this in the middle of Deja Brew with windows everywhere.”
“Sure we can,” she murmured, and kissed his neck. And that was it—he couldn’t stop himself and he wouldn’t stop her. He was inflamed by her boldness, and her hands were on him, and he was completely under her spell. She somehow maneuvered out of her panties, and then her bare skin was against him, and she smelled like sex and she tasted like love, and he was so hard for her.
Their unions were generally furious and sexy, but this was reverent, and perhaps a tiny bit sad. There was nothing else in existence in those moments except the two of them. Jonah wasn’t sure why he felt so emotional with her—he was having sex in a hanging egg basket, for God’s sake—but all he could think was that he really did love this woman, and he wished things were always as easy as they were with her, easy in the way soul mates had of being on the same page about everything. He loved aerospace engineering and he loved his family, but those things were on different pages. He and Harper were always on the same page. The flow between them was as natural as breathing.
And when they’d finished, Jonah pressed his forehead to her chest. She stroked his hair. “Is everything okay?”
He laughed softly. “Nothing and everything.”
She didn’t ask him to explain. She bent over him and held him so that she could feel nothing and everything, too.
Eventually, they cleaned up, and went back across the street, their arms around each other. They slipped into the door practically unnoticed and stayed there. Suzanna was nearing the end of her set, and the crowd was moving to her music. Harper stood with her back pressed against Jonah, his arms around her waist. His mother was dancing with one of the regulars, who was a head shorter than she was. She was laughing, enjoying herself. Aunt Belinda and Uncle Marty were slow dancing behind the counter, kissing every now and again in the way septuagenarians kissed with fondness rather than passion.
And there was Jonah’s father, sitting on a stool, looking like he was about to fall off.
“Oh God, oh no,” Harper said, and twisted around, her eyes wide. “What am I going to do?”
“About what?”
“Olivia is with Kendal. Like with him.” She leaned into Jonah and pointed.
Jonah saw Kendal and, with him, an attractive woman. At least judging by what he could see. But she had her tongue so far down Kendal’s throat, he couldn’t be entirely sure.
“We have to stop this,” Harper said, and before Jonah could react, she’d grabbed his hand and had pulled him forward to break up a lust match.
“Hey!” Olivia jerked around when Harper tapped her on the shoulder. Her gaze landed on Jonah, and she gasped with surprise. “I know you! You’re Jonah! I would recognize you anywhere.”
“From when I had your phone,” Harper quickly explained. “She’s not stalking you.”
“Not unless Harper needs me to. This is perfect! Kendal and I are going to Péché on Fourth Street. Join us.”
“But we—”
“You must pass into this state of being, Harper,” Kendal said. “It is freeing.” He laughed. “That’s my Soren impression.” Apparently, Kendal had had a couple of the cactus martinis.
“Thanks, but I feel pretty free in my state of being. Where is Soren anyway?”
Kendal shrugged. “I think he took off.”
“Please?” Olivia begged. “I came all this way, and I’m only just meeting your man. You have to come.”
“You came from Houston, Olivia. Not exactly a long haul. And speaking of which, I thought you had to go back tonight.”
“I can go in the morning,” she said, and smiled saucily at Kendal before turning her sultry smile to Jonah. “Please, Jonah?”
Jonah probably would have gone along for the entertainment value alone, but he shook his head. “Sorry, but I’m needed here. It will take some time to close down.”
“Then join us later!” Olivia tossed her long brown hair over her shoulder in a way that seemed entirely designed and practiced to entice.
“I’ll try.” He smiled at Harper. Her eyes narrowed suspiciously.
“Yay!”
When Olivia turned back to say something to Kendal, Harper grabbed Jonah’s lapel. “I can’t believe you are going to leave me with them. This is the very definition of hell, Jonah, trust me.”
“You have to be quicker on the draw, baby.” He kissed the top of her head. “I’m really glad you came. Call me later?”
“Are you kidding? I’m going to call you every five minutes so you don’t miss a thing.”
“Hope I remember to take my phone off silent.” He grinned at her, then leaned forward to offer his hand to Olivia and Kendal, thanked them for coming, and turned back into the crowd at the Lucky Star.
He didn’t see them leave—he was cleaning up spilled martinis, certain if he didn’t, someone would slip and break a leg and the ensuing lawsuits would sink them. He was cleaning long after Suzanna had gone, long after Carly and Max had gone, even long after Amy and her brother and his band had gone. She’d had a few too many cactus martinis and was no help anyway.
It had been a long day—he didn’t mind working solo, alone with his thoughts. But as Jonah finished putting the tables and chairs back in their usual places, his father appeared in the doorway of the private dining room.
“You still here, Dad?” Jonah asked as he walked toward him. “You look tired.”
“I am tired, but I’m fine. Got a minute?”
“Sure, but—”
“I want you to take the job, son,” his father said before Jonah could utter a word. “It’s an amazing opportunity.”
Jonah was too exhausted to have this conversation now. “Dad . . . don’t worry about that, please. There will be other opportunities.”
“That’s not the point. Look, I gave everything I had so that you could have the best life. So you could have all the opportunities. It’s like I told you before, we’ve leaned on you too much. After Jolie, well . . . we put all our hopes into you. All of them. You were right—we have needed you, but we didn’t think about how that affected you. We sent you to school, we gave you the tools you need to sail through this life, we put our hopes and dreams for all the other kids we didn’t have into you. But we never told you it was okay to go and live that life. I’m telling you now. It is okay for you to go and live your life. You need to take that job.”
“Okay,” Jonah said. “That’s a pretty healthy guilt trip. You also taught me to have compassion, Dad. To help. To think of others and to be there when others are in need. And that means you.”
“Don’t you think you’ve helped enough?” His dad moved into the dining room and sat heavily in a chair. “Don’t you think you’ve done as much as anyone could ask of their son? Now maybe you can put yourself in my shoes. Imagine watching your son pass up the very thing you dreamed for him because you got sick.”
Jonah swallowed. “I’m sure it must be hard. But Dad . . . if I take this opportunity and go to Madrid for six months, who will be here for you? Marty and Belinda are moving. Mom and Amy will be here, but you know how they are.”
“I’ll manage. I’m not dead, Jonah. I’m just sick.”
“But what if . . .” He had to clear his throat. It felt like it was closing up on him. “What if I don’t see you again?”
His dad smiled a little. “Listen. Lymphoma is treatable. My oncologist is very hopeful. If something happens, we won’t hide it from you, I promise. You’ll come home then. But what if it doesn’t? But what if you stayed home and I got better? Are you going to reach the end of six months when I’m feeling great and resent me?”
“No—”
“You might. Son, anything could happen. Your mother or I could die in a car accident tomorrow. But I’m not going to allow my only child, my son, to spend his life watching and waiting for the worst to happen.” He extended his hand and Jonah took it. His skin was thin, and blotched red from places they’d inserted IVs. He squeezed Jonah’s hand with surprising strength. “Go. Explore your life and this world. The Lucky Star is not your burden. That belongs to me and I can still carry it.”
Jonah took a seat beside his father and bowed his head. “You’re not thinking clearly,” he said softly. “You have to admit that it’s a toll on you. And there is no one here to do what you or I do.”
“I’m thinking very clearly,” his father said. “We’ll be all right. You’ve set some great things in motion here, and I feel confident we can keep it up.”
Jonah covered his face with his hands for a moment. If he had a kid, he’d be saying the same thing. But that didn’t erase the fact that his father was sick and his parents needed the help, whether they wanted to admit it or not. He leaned back against the bar and settled in to argue about what was best for him, his father, and the Lucky Star.
Thirty-One
Monday morning arrived like a sledgehammer.
After two hours of watching Olivia flirt with Kendal, and Kendal flirt with Olivia, Harper had had enough. She slipped out of Péché with the real excuse of needing to see about Bob. She’d hated every minute of being the third wheel, especially to that dynamic duo. It had been nice, these last few weeks, not to be the third wheel.
It had been more than nice. It had been amazing.
She’d slept fitfully, having had too many cactus martinis and trying to understand all the many emotions she was feeling about Jonah, and Madrid, and her own career. It was as if all her neatly wrapped goals and achievements and feelings had come tumbling out of the imaginary closet and were lying in a mess at the bottom of the stairs.
Things didn’t feel right. The universe didn’t feel right.
She’d just finished dressing Bob in the dog kilt she’d ordered when Olivia came falling into the apartment, looking like she had fallen off the back of a pickup truck.
“Oh no,” Harper said, realizing what this terribly disheveled look meant.
Olivia tried to drag her fingers through her long hair, but it was tangled. “He happens to be a very good lover, Harper. He’s into tantric sex.”
Bob barked at Olivia at the very same moment Harper groaned. “No! Don’t say another word! That’s my colleague, Olivia.” She attached Bob’s leash.
“I really like him, Harper. I mean, I’m excited about him. He’s so smart, and he’s funny, and he makes a wicked smoothie.”
It occurred to Harper that this was so typically Olivia—she fell for every guy she came into contact with. All these years, Harper had believed she was doing something wrong, that she should have wanted the same sort of attention Olivia received. But now she realized that what Olivia sought was cheap—it was for the moment. For the gratification of being wanted. It was not for the long haul. That’s what Harper had with Jonah—something enduring. “Great, Olivia. Like him all you want. But don’t talk to me about it. I have to work with him. Speaking of which, I have to go.”
“Fine,” Olivia said, clearly wounded by Harper’s lack of enthusiasm. “I’m telling you, it’s different this time.” She kept her gaze on her phone, although Harper could plainly see it was the lock screen. “I’ll call you when I get to Houston.”
“Great.” Harper thought maybe she ought to apologize, but she was too at odds with herself. She and Bob left.
On her way to work, Harper got a call from Carly.
“Hey!” Carly said. “Great event last night, wasn’t it?”
Harper agreed that it was.
“Just wait until you see the fundraiser we’re doing at Deja Brew. It’s going to blow your socks off.”
“Oh, I’m sure,” Harper said half-heartedly. She was not in the right frame of mind to be excited about a political fundraiser at her store. She actually thought she might not have been able to care any less. That in and of itself was a strange feeling—she couldn’t remember if she’d ever felt so blasé about a task.
