Matrimony Homies

32: Proud (Harry)

As she directs me to pull into the parking garage at the building that houses Rapier Wit Gin, my jaw drops open.

"Damn," I breathe. "When did you move into this space?"

Briskly, her eyes snap to my face. "What do you mean? How do you know we haven't always been in this space?"

Shit. Caught.

Cover, Styles.

Quickly.

"I think Mum must have mentioned it," I lie as I park where she directs me into a spot labelled 'Reserved'.

When I press the ignition button to turn off the engine, Loren doesn't reach for the door handle. Instead, she twists to face me. "Mhm," she murmurs. "Spill it, Harry."

Grimacing, I run my hand over my face. "Okay, fine," I acquiesce. "Several years ago, I was in Manchester for a show, and I just happened to drive by your old location."

"'Just happened?'" Her voice isn't shrill, but her tone is accusatory. "Harry, the old location was in a small warehouse district surrounded by a bunch of carpet liquidators and automotive parts. We had one door into our distillery that led directly into the cramped sales room, and one door in back that rolled up for deliveries. You couldn't 'just happen' by it on accident."

Busted. Stroking my fingers through my moustache, I consider my options, knowing there's only one that will work. The truth. Facing her, I force myself to make eye contact, and even though I don't mean for them to, my words sound defensive and wounded.

"So it's okay that you followed my career and kept all of that merch, but I'm not supposed to have paid any attention to your career all this time?"

Okay so definitely defensive. But I don't back down. Gathering all of my embarrassment around me, I power it into a giant ball of anger.

"I mean, so what if I made an effort to find your old location? Who cares if I maybe even went inside with my manager Jeffrey and bought some gin? It's not like you were out front selling the product."

"You don't even drink gin!" She's smiling slightly as she says it, but her voice is raised so I know I've hit a sore spot. "And I often am out front selling the product! It's one of my favourite things to do."

"Well you weren't selling it that day!" I bellow back.

"Thank God!" she yells this time in the enclosed space, and we're both breathing hard.

Turning her head away from me, she swallows as she catches her breath. I take her cue and also gather my composure.

When she turns to me next, she does that thing of hers where she cups my cheek and rubs her thumb over my cheekbone. "I'm flattered that you followed Rapier Wit," she calmly states. "And maybe if I had known or seen you at the distillery, it might have made me rethink my silence towards you."

Fuck. This woman...

"You're not angry?" My jaw is clenched in fear of what she'll say.

"Angry?" Surprise tinges her features. "Not even remotely. Unless you tell me that you poured that Rapier Wit down the drain."

Relaxing, I smile. "Nope. Presented it to my second surrogate father."

"What's the worst thing that's ever happened to you, Robin?" I ask my soon-to-be stepfather at the dinner table one cold night when I'm about 12. At least I hope he'll soon be my stepfather. He and Mum have been dating for an eternity.

"Cancer," he solemnly reveals, and my eyes widen.

"What? No way! You have cancer?"

I watch as Mum reaches out to touch Robin's arm. Loren drops her spoon into her soup, splattering the tomato everywhere. She picks up a napkin to clean up the mess, and my attention returns quickly to Robin.