The Weight of Forever: (Grand Harbor: Book Two) Read online

  “Here’s the thing,” a deep voice said from behind me as I sat on the patio steps, overlooking the shoreline, “we do both have an affinity for goat cheese.” I turned around, connecting with the green eyes I stared into earlier – yet this time, he wasn’t wearing his mask. His skin was smooth and the smile lines near his mouth looked so sincere and welcoming. His face was far more handsome than I even imagined with his mask on. This seemed problematic.

  “Yes, we both love goat cheese,” I repeated, unsure where he was going with that statement. “Not exactly an anomaly.”

  “Well, it just seems like it’s possible that maybe we have a lot more in common,” he replied. “I mean other than the dog and cat thing, but we could probably work that out and just settle on a fish or something. So truthfully, I do want to know your name. I want to know where you’re from. I’m actually quite curious about your lifelong aspirations because I can’t peg what they are just from looking at you. And honestly, if dark romantic dinners are your thing, I’d be willing to suffer through one if you’d be interested, just to learn more about you - you know, at least for the next 1.5 years until we fall apart in a dramatic way.”

  I was impressed by how good of a listener he was. I rambled so nonsensically earlier that I was surprised he retained any of it.

  I stood up on the top step to face him. He was a good six inches taller than me, even in my heels, and I didn’t notice how broad his shoulders were until I was standing squarely in front of him. “I’m Olivia,” I began. “Born and raised in Grand Harbor, my lifelong aspirations are still a tangled mess or a work in progress, depending on how motivated I feel on any given day, and honestly my idea of a romantic dinner would be eating hamburgers in my living room in yoga pants. I like dressing up for these parties, but I’m not that fancy of a person. I swear I’m a lot more laid back when I’m not talking to stuffy rich old people at charity functions. I’m actually insanely fun, blunt to a fault as you’ve witnessed, and I don’t even own a pet because I’m unintentionally irresponsible. That’s everything you need to know.”

  “Miles Morrison.” He held out a fist to me, which confused me at first. I’m pretty sure no one had ever fist-bumped at one of these charity galas. I reached out and tapped my fist with his.

  “Give me the run down then, now that we’ve officially connected with our knuckles,” I said, shaking my head. Here it was – the beginning of every end.

  “We’re really doing this?” There was too much excitement in his voice. I nodded back at him, throwing my hands up in the air in defeat. “Okay, well, I’m from Utah originally, but I’ve moved around over the years ever since leaving home. I don’t like to stay in one place too long. It makes me feel stuck, and I hate that.”

  “And your lifelong aspirations?”

  “Ah, do we really have to go there? They are a complete disappointment to everyone who knows me, so there’s probably no point in wowing you with those now.”

  “As a disappointment to my parents in that regard as well, I’m already intrigued. Tell me everything.”

  “Okay, well, I basically plan on making a shit-ton of money over the next five-to-ten years, by whatever means necessary, then I literally want to live on a boat someday, likely doing nothing worthwhile. I know that might not make me a catch, but, as luck would have it, I love hamburgers, just like you, so I’m thinking we should keep this going and make that happen tomorrow night in spite of my lackluster career goals. Oh, and one more thing - yeah, this suit is a rental. You know why? Because suits are expensive as hell. I have no shame. I knew this was going to be a nice party, and I didn’t want to look like an ass. So yeah, I rented this suit. Maybe you think less of me for it, but that doesn’t change the fact whatsoever that I want to take you out tomorrow night.”

  “I appreciate your transparency,” I said with a slight laugh. Wasn’t I just saying something to Lexi about that earlier? That was the thing I hated most about dating – having to impress someone with all the ‘good’ things about me before I could let them in on the negatives. It was exhausting. I wished I could just be myself all the time, like I was with my best friends. They knew I was crazy and adventurous and sometimes borderline psychotic when angry – but they didn’t care. They didn’t even bat an eye at my flaws or neuroses. It seemed impossible to find that in anyone you met past the age of eleven. It was all pure judgment after that. Kind of like the way I judged him for his suit earlier before even giving him a chance.

  “So you’ll have dinner with me? Tomorrow night? No rules or expectations. We can be ourselves and just see what happens.”

  “You have to answer a question first.” I had to know. “Why are you here tonight? Are you even at the right party, or are you here by accident?”

  I was wracking my brain over that ever since Lexi first pointed him out. I went over the guest list repeatedly with my mother while she was organizing the event. Every name on that list was old and familiar. His name would’ve stuck out to me. He definitely wasn’t on the list.

  “You don’t believe I could be invited to a party like this just because I rented this suit?” He eyed me curiously.

  “Full disclosure, this dress is a rental too,” I admitted. “That’s not what I’m insinuating at all. I honestly don’t care what you’re wearing. I’m suggesting you weren’t invited because it just so happens I handled the invites – so I’m just curious as to how you found yourself here.”

  “Wait, this is your house?” He stared back at me in disbelief.

  “Yeah, Olivia Prescott,” I countered, pointing at myself as if he needed the visual. “Richard and Clara Prescott are my parents. They’re the ones who put on this event every year. We do quite a bit for the pediatric hospital actually, that’s one of their favorite charities to focus on. I was just involved in a fundraiser last week for them, focusing on kids with epilepsy. They also have an amazing cancer clinic for kids. It’s heartbreaking and uplifting all at once, watching what those kids go through. This party every year is one of the biggest fundraising events for the pediatric unit.”

  “Dammit,” he muttered. “I should’ve known.” He remained quiet for a minute, and I wasn’t sure what to say, so instead I waited for him to offer some clarity. “You’re right, I’m sorry. As it turns out, I am at the wrong party. I shouldn’t be here. I was supposed to be at the Miller’s party, I must’ve written down the wrong address. I’m terribly sorry for the mistake.” He was staring down at the ground, somehow unable to make eye contact with me anymore.

  “Hey, I’m not saying you have to leave,” I said awkwardly, trying to lighten up this weird turn in conversation. “You can stay all night. It’s no big deal. They’ll take anyone’s money, trust me. I just wondered…”

  “It was nice to meet you, Olivia. I’m sorry.”

  “Seriously, you don’t have to go…”

  “I really am at the wrong party. I must pay better attention.”

  He offered a quick, polite smile, and then turned and walked away. Instead of heading back through the house though, he walked around the side past the bushes, disappearing into the darkness. I wanted to call out to him, but what was there to say? I couldn’t process what’d just happened.

  Just like that, Miles Morrison was gone, and all that remained on the patio ledge was the mask he’d arrived in.

  Chapter 2

  “What do you mean he just left the party in the middle of your conversation? Why? Who does that?” Monday afternoon I met up with Sophia for a quick lunch at the Sapphire Assisted Living Facility where her Grandma Eve lived. We had lunch together weekly, and I loved these afternoons with them. I tried explaining my weird encounter with Miles. Sophia had as many questions about it as I did.

  “He said he was supposed to be at another party, but it wasn’t convincing. The Millers? I’ve never heard of them, they’re not on our block anyway. Why would he make that up? The crazy thing is, I wasn’t even pursuing this guy, right? We met at the food table, exchanged a few awkw
ard sentences, I came back for an even more awkward apology, and that was it. I walked away, perfectly prepared to never see the guy again. But then he sought me out, asked me out, and then got all weirded out by the fact that my parents were the ones throwing the party.”

  “It’s strange for sure,” she commiserated. “Did you exchange numbers or anything? Do you know where he works? Would you even want to see him again?”

  “I don’t know. I mean, he was attractive. Easy to talk to. Kind of charming. We didn’t even have time to exchange numbers though, the conversation literally ended in a matter of sixty seconds once he said he was at the wrong party. He’s long gone. ”

  “Only the good men come back,” Grandma Eve chimed in. “Or they used to, anyway. I’m still waiting on Harold. Lord knows when he’s ever coming back for me.”

  Grandma Eve’s Alzheimer’s was progressively getting worse, so there was no point in reminding her that Harold had passed years ago.

  “Great, so if he’s out of the picture does that mean we still can’t get Garrett off your list?” Sophia was always harping on me for still seeing him, given he rarely returned my texts in a timely fashion and seemed genuinely uninterested in my friends. I agreed, he wasn’t worthy of my time, but I also didn’t have a lot else going on at the moment.

  “I’m going out with him tomorrow night to Osborne’s Pub. There’s some crappy local band he wants to see there. He has such horrible taste in music. It’s a real drag.”

  “Why on earth are you still seeing him? He’s a dead end.”

  “You want the honest truth? Because it’s safe. It’s easier than being on a road that actually leads somewhere. At least I already know the end of the story. I like that better.”

  “That makes no sense,” Sophia said, shaking her head. “That’s the whole reason they put signs up on dead end streets, warning you about the end so you can change directions before falling off a cliff, or getting stuck in the back yard of a meth house on the east side. Garrett Burg is like the longest dead end road of all time.”

  “I know.” I sighed. She was right. She always was. But there was truth in my words – I liked reality – knowing the end of the story. It suited me. Garrett made me no false promises, and I had very few expectations with him. There was little heartbreak to be had over someone who would inevitably let you down. It worked for me. Sure, he was unreliable – but sadly I felt that way about most humans, so it wasn’t that big of a deal when it stopped surprising me. “More importantly, how are you feeling, Grandma Eve?” I needed to change the subject before I gave Miles Morrison another second of my thoughts.

  “This third round of pneumonia is really taking its toll on her,” Sophia answered on her behalf. “Sometimes when she coughs I swear she still has that sound in her chest. At least the summer weather should help. Why does it feel like time is passing so impossibly slow?”

  “Probably because you still have a lot of wedding planning to do,” I shot back, excited to be helping her with some of the details. After all the parties I’d planned with my mother, a wedding was not all that daunting to me. “I still can’t believe you guys are waiting until August. I thought it was going to happen forty-eight hours after he asked you.” It was a running joke with us. Sophia was so smitten with Lance from the very beginning. There was no doubt in my mind they were destined for the most wonderful forever – the kind I tried so hard to pretend like I didn’t want.

  “I know, Lance was ready to do it sooner, but you know the venue I wanted was booked until then. Honestly Grandma Eve’s health was my main concern, but she seems to still be hanging in there just fine.”

  “I’m tough as a cream puff,” Grandma Eve responded without skipping a beat. She used that phrase all the time, and it was adorable. It was also true – all the health scares she’d had didn’t phase her.

  “I know you are, Grandma Eve.” I squeezed her hand, thankful for these lunches together. She was such a big part of my life growing up, given how much time Sophia and I spent at each other’s houses as children. She essentially raised Sophia, and I loved her like she was my own grandma.

  “I’m not going anywhere, other than piano class after lunch,” Grandma Eve continued. “And dancing lessons on Fridays. Those are my favorite. We’re doing the Waltz.”

  “See, she’s fine,” Sohpia continued. “I’d rather it be right than rushed. I’m okay waiting until August.”

  “You’re too sensible to be my friend,” I laughed. “Find me a guy like Lance, and I’ll ditch the dead end meth house on the east side that you’ve equated to Garrett Burg.”

  “I tried! I thought you and his brother Logan were a good match.”

  “He’s a nice guy, but he’s just so boring.” I groaned, pushing my empty lunch plate to the side. “He literally wanted to watch Sports Center six days a week, followed by Sunday football. I want adventure. Excitement. Something daring and new. I’m all about chilling at home and watching a movie occasionally, or even a sporadic sporting event now and then, that’s all good. But every once in a while I want to be surprised. Caught off guard. Amazed. Life is boring enough day in and day out as it is. Work, bills, cleaning that horrible tile shower in my apartment… There’s no adventure in that. I want a sidekick. A partner in crime. Someone I can do stupid stuff with at two in the morning.”

  “So you want the male version of me,” Sophia said with a laugh. “Remember when we were kids and we snuck out and went up to Bristol Point? We were going to catch raccoons to keep as pets, remember? We brought all that bread with us. One of the raccoons hissed at you, stole your bread, and you fell backwards onto those sticks and got all scratched up… What did we tell your mom the next morning? Something about me accidentally scratching you up with a fork while we were dancing in the kitchen eating leftover pizza in the middle of the night? It was the stupidest story, and your mom totally bought it. Meanwhile we were really out flirting with the plague.”

  “See, that was fun, right? That dumb story still makes us smile fifteen years later. Where can I find a man who will go raccoon catching with me in the middle of the night?”

  “Probably Kentucky?”

  I threw my napkin at her. “You know what I mean. The kind of guy I want is a myth. The men around here are too stuffy. Find someone who will tame rabid pets with me in the middle of the night, and I’m in.”

  “I’ll keep my eyes peeled,” she teased, grabbing Grandma Eve’s napkin off her lap as we ended our lunch. “But you have to promise me that as soon as I find you someone, you’ll ditch Garrett for good.” She stuck out her pinky finger as if we were seven years old all over again, and I wasted no time in hooking mine with hers.

  *****

  My phone chimed at five minutes after seven. I was pacing my living room, waiting for my pseudo-boyfriend to pick me up. It seemed like things with Garrett would never change.

  Sorry babe, but I can’t make it tonight. Not feeling great. Hit you up later this weekend?

  Wow, so thoughtful. A text after the time he was already supposed to be here, as if he didn’t know he was ill twenty minutes ago when he should’ve been leaving his house, and if I’m lucky he’ll hit me up like that’s all I’ve been waiting for this week.

  I couldn’t take it anymore. I wanted to say something, but the only words I could think of typing back were expletives – nothing even close to resembling the classy girl my mom raised me to be.

  $#%! classy. I’m not my mother.

  I quickly typed more foul words. Nope. That wasn’t making me feel better. I took a deep breath, forcefully deleting all of the words I typed, and then shut off my phone with no reply at all. I needed to get a grip. My friends were right; Garrett was a dead end. I knew it was stupid. I just had no reason to drop the only prospect I had at the moment. Sometimes we really did have fun together – occasionally. Okay, maybe only once a month or so. Dammit.

  That was it – my answer. Surely I couldn’t do a lot worse than Garrett, right? I simply needed to fin
d another dud – perhaps one who even returned my texts – and then I’d be over him in no time. I really needed to break things off with him sooner than later. He was really affecting my mood, and I hated that.

  I was already done up for the night. My sleek dark hair was layered down past my shoulders thanks to the new flatiron I bought this week. My makeup was on point. My jeans were torn in all the right places and the heels accentuated my long legs. There was no reason not to head out tonight.

  I immediately texted Lexi. Up for an adventure?

  She replied immediately. It’s…a Tuesday night.

  Right. More people get arrested on Tuesdays than any other weeknight. Seems like a great excuse to watch drunk townies get in fights down at Osborne’s, wouldn’t you say?

  There were no facts to back up my statement. I honestly had no idea which weeknights were more riddled with crime, nor was I certain we would see any fights tonight. But Lexi was easily swayed, so it sounded good as I typed it.

  I can get an Uber in four minutes. But I swear I’m not staying past eleven. I have the opening shift at the bank in the morning. PS – you’re a terrible influence.

  I sent back a stupid gif and slid on a sweatshirt. Early summer wasn’t warm around Grand Harbor after the sun set. The air blowing off the lake made it feel ten to twenty degrees cooler than the actual air temperature. I slid my fingers through my hair one more time, then headed out to the parking lot. Within a minute, Lexi’s Uber pulled up and I climbed in. It was only a few minutes to walk to downtown, but it was way too cool out for that, plus the pub was on the farthest side of the square from my apartment. It was worth the few bucks for the drive.