Don't Promise Me Forever

13 | in which everyone feels awkward in a kitchen

"Ah," Cass said. "I've put my foot in it, haven't I?"

She glanced between Lawson and Harper, looking like a toddler caught scribbling crayon drawings all over the wall. The only sound was the hum of the refrigerator the drip-drip of a faucet. Harper shoved her phone away.

"I ran into Jake this morning," she said. "Literally."

Lawson turned. "What did he want?"

"Just to catch up."

Lawson's eyes were sharp emeralds. There was nothing unpleasant about his expression — he looked very calm, in fact — but Harper still squirmed. She had the sense that he could catch every thought flitting through her head, a fisherman wading into a stream with a net.

She wasn't sure that she liked it.

"Over a drink," Lawson surmised, with uncanny acumen, and Harper rubbed her sweaty palms on her leggings. "He asked you out for a drink. What did you say?"

She shrugged. "I didn't say anything. We just exchanged numbers."

"Hang on." Griffin frowned. "How do you know Jake?"

Harper bit her lip. For a terrible moment, she debated lying — saying that she'd met Jake at that party — but she shoved the thought away. There was no point; Griffin would put it together eventually. Besides, she'd done enough lying for the day.

"Because I dated him," Harper said.

Griffin blinked. "You did?"

"Yeah. Back in highschool."

Her stepbrother's expression turned incredulous. "That's the Jake you went out with? Jake Parker?"

Cass picked up her frozen yoghurt again. "Fair play, Lane." She stabbed a spoon in Harper's direction. "That man is fit as hell."

Griffin's brow furrowed. He shut his laptop, which was enough to alarm Harper; her stepbrother was obsessed with his job, especially when it came to fixing a broken part. He loved puzzles. Diana used to joke that the house could be burning down and Griffin wouldn't notice, so long as he was holding a Rubik's cube that needed solving.

This was bad.

Very, very bad, indeed.

"Why did nobody tell me?" Griffin asked.

Harper fiddled with sleeve. "I'm telling you now."

"You knew?" Griffin rounded on Lawson. "And you didn't say anything?"

Lawson's gaze was trained on his toast. There was something haunted about his face, and Harper thought back to his words at the garden party. He's my brother. When Harper asked Lawson to keep a secret from Griffin that day in the conservatory, she hadn't realized what it would cost him.

But he'd kept it for her, anyway.

"Sorry, mate," Lawson said. "I didn't mean—"

"It's my fault," Harper cut in. "I asked him not to tell you."

Lawson's gaze flitted to her. He didn't look surprised, exactly; just wary. Griffin pushed back his chair.

"Well, Parker's not coming to the wedding," he said. "I'll speak with Mum."

"No, don't!" Harper yelped, and then flushed as three pairs of eyes turned towards her. "It's just, Diana's already stressed out with the book launch and the wedding prep. I don't want to add to her plate."

Griffin frowned. "Harper..."

"Leave it, Griff," she said. "Promise me."

Oddly, Griffin looked to Cass, who was still happily shovelling frozen yoghurt into her mouth. The blonde girl shrugged.

"You heard her, Pembrooke," Cass said, around a mouthful of yoghurt. "It's her decision."

Griffin sighed. "Fine."

He didn't look happy about it, Harper thought, but Griffin looked resigned, and that was good enough for her. Lawson turned back to his toast. Harper was about to make a hasty retreat for the shower when a thought occurred to her.

"Lawson?" she asked.

He turned, one eyebrow raised.

She swallowed. "Can we stop by your place on the way to Huntingdon Estate?"

The wariness returned. "Why?"

"I need to give Moira the photos from the gardening party."

Lawson took a bite of toast. "Can't you just text them to her?"

"Lawson..."

"Or we could send them by carrier pigeon," Lawson offered. "There are loads of them in London. A pandemic of pigeons, really."

"Lawson," Harper said. "Please."

Harper wasn't sure why it bothered her so much, but it did. Why was Lawson so against her meeting his parents and Paige? She wasn't that bad, was she? Lawson must have noticed the change in her tone because he let out a deep breath.

"Okay," Lawson said, and Harper suppressed the urge to do a little victory dance. "Don't say I didn't warn you, though."

Cass snorted. "Oh, come off it, Hale. Moira will adore her."

"I know," Lawson said grimly, looking a lot like a sailor about to walk the plank. "That's exactly the problem."

Hello lovely readers,

Soooo I'm officially done writing "Don't Promise Me Forever" (!) I think this might be the best ending I've ever written, and I'm so excited to share it. From now on, I'll be posting twice a week (Tuesday and Thursday), so the whole thing should be uploaded by early April!

Question of the Day: do you listen to audiobooks? I've just downloaded my first one ("Conversations on Love" by Natasha Lunn), and I'm curious to see if I like it!

Affectionately,

J.K.

p.s. a huge thanks to everyone that weighed in on the Great Pizza Debate — a few of you pointed out that there may be some cultural differences (e.g. Americans are more likely to say "cheese," while Europeans say "margherita") as well as some price point/flavour differences (i.e. "cheese" is usually frozen from supermarkets with shredded mozza, while "margherita" is found at restaurants and has sliced mozza/basil)

p.p.s. I spent wayyy too much time this week thinking about the intricacies of pizza

p.p.p.s. I'm really craving a pizza now