“What about kids? Won’t that screw them up?” Harlow asked.
Izzy laughed. “They’ll turn out as fucked up as he is. It’s why he’s that way. His parents were that way; they used to take part in orgies all the time. You guys remember, until his mom got fed up and demanded a divorce.”
“Yeah, but Dad got his act together. Meeting Lily in the club was the best thing that I could’ve done. She knew from the start what I liked. There were no surprises. That’s where my dad went wrong. Deciding he wanted to do something like that out of the blue after they’d been married for years,” Will said.
I looked at my best friend and shook my head. “You are a fucked up individual.”
“And you’re not?”
“I compartmentalize my fucked up behaviors. I don’t make them a part of anyone else’s life. It’s the reason I’m not in a relationship because I know that I don’t want to screw someone else’s life up. I keep my shit within certain barriers. If I were to settle down with one woman, and that’s a big ‘if,’ I won’t be fucking around with other women. And she sure as hell won’t be screwing other dudes. That shit is sick and twisted,” I said.
“You don’t know what you’re missing out on, man,” Will defended.
Shrugging, Izzy said, “To each his own.”
“What’s been up with you, Harlow? You found someone yet?” Will asked.
Although no one expressed it outwardly, all three of us tuned in to her answer. Harlow had never been in a relationship that we knew of. We’d never seen her so much as dating another person.
Smiling bashfully, my sister looked up at me with green eyes so much like my own. Eyes that we inherited from our father.
“There is someone, and he’s good to me. I...I think I might be in love.”
Izzy laughed loudly, smacking her hands against her bare thighs. “The ‘L’ word for Harlow Marie Chambers? The same one that said she wasn’t capable of love thanks to her parents?”
Our parents loved us; they just hadn’t done a good job of expressing it. Diamond encrusted platinum or gold trinkets, black cards, vehicles, clothing, exotic vacations, and exclusive parties and trips around the world were their ideas of love.
The things that mattered most to Harlow and I didn’t count. They didn’t consider quality time, idle chatter, having a conversation about our hopes and dreams, asking us why we were sad or acting out, or even contributing to events or charities that meant a lot to us. Unless somehow that meant the hospital would dedicate a wing to my parents in their name, or the group home would build a new house with their name, then those things never mattered.
Don’t mention volunteering at those places; they shunned it as if it were beneath us. Harlow and I derived our penchant for volunteering and working hands-on from our maternal grandmother. Grandmother Rose Turner was the sweetest person we’d ever met. And we could never understand how she and Grandfather Pete had given birth to our mother. Yet, they’d both explained she changed after being married to our father. In a word, money changed her.
“Things change,” Harlow said in response to Izzy’s question about love.
“Especially when you’re almost four thousand miles away from the parent figures,” I muttered.
Smirking at me, Harlow nodded. “Then there’s that.”
“Do they know you’re here?”
Her smile visibly slipped a few notches. I reached over and thumbed the space between her eyebrows, trying to ease the tension.
“Not yet, and I’d like to keep it that way for as long as possible.”
“Your secret’s safe with me,” I said, lying on my back again.
Harlow was staying with me while she was in town. The relationship with her and my parents, although intact, was strained. When she’d taken off for London to launch her modeling career full scale, they hadn’t agreed. Mom wanted her to remain at home and become a socialite following in her shoes and marry a good, wealthy local man. Dad wanted her to take a position in the family business if she would not do as my mom desired.
“Tell us about this person you’re so in love with,” Izzy prompted.
“He’s sweet, romantic, patient, and kind-hearted. He’s generous and spoils me, but he’s so humble. Gabriel takes good care of others, too.”
“What does Gabriel do?” I asked, looking at my sister.
“Um...he’s into fashion.”
“Oh, a designer?” Izzy asked.
Shaking her head, Harlow bit her nail.
“A buyer?” Izzy tried again, as though this were some game show.
“No,” Harlow sighed. “He owns the agency.”
“Your agency?” Izzy asked.
Nodding her head, Harlow looked at her fingers.
“Jolie Fille?” I asked.
Harlow nodded once again, not meeting my eyes. I could feel Izzy's and Will’s eyes on me.
“Dude is like, what sixty-three?”
“Sixty-one, but that’s beside the point, Lake. He loves me, and he’s good to me.”
“Harlow, he’s three times your age exactly and two years younger than mom and four younger than dad!” I balked.
“And he treats me well! He adores me, and he’s protective of me!” Harlow argued back.
“Harlow,” I said in a softer, patient tone. “This man cannot give to you what you were missing from dad. And it sounds as if that’s what you’re looking for.”
“No, I’m not!” she cried, wiping tears from her eyes. “I really don’t want to do this with you. I missed you, Lake. It’s been a year since we were last with each other. Can’t we just enjoy our time together?”
Izzy got up and moved to Harlow’s side, wrapping her arms around her and evil-eyeing me.
“Yes,” I said, pushing out a breath and running my fingers through my dark hair. “Yes, we can.”
“Speaking of...what did Will mean when he said, ‘dark meat?’” Izzy asked, changing the subject as she stroked Harlow’s arm.
“Are we on that again?” I groaned.
Laughing, Will said, “We never left it. Looks like my guy has given up his blonde and brunette obsession, trading it in for sistas.”
“Sistas?”
