Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 117377 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 470(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117377 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 470(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
“You had reason to—”
She held up a hand, stopping him in midsentence. “I had reasons, yes. Good ones. But I let them become the biggest part of who I was. I couldn’t speak my own child’s name for ten years, Harris. But you—”
Tina’s eyes flooded, and she shook her head helplessly as she tried to formulate her thoughts.
“When you came to Riversend, you were just there! Constantly. A reminder of everything I had lost, everything I could have become.”
“I’m sorry . . .” His voice was absolutely soaked in misery, and she shook her head firmly.
“Stop apologizing, Harris. You’ve apologized enough. Let me speak, please.”
His throat worked, and he looked like he wanted to say something more, but he nodded. She was about to continue, when their food was brought to the table. They both stared at their meals in dismay, neither in the mood to eat. Tina gently pushed hers aside, and Harris did the same before refocusing his attention on her.
“You were inescapable,” she continued, absently toying with a saltshaker. “Just everywhere, but I found that I didn’t mind. I liked having you around. I liked spending time with you.”
“You did?” he asked, a hopeful note creeping into his voice. She nodded and curled her hand into a fist, in an attempt to stop aimlessly pushing the shaker around.
“And the more time I spent with you, the guiltier I felt about the secrets I’d kept from you for so long. But in the end, after telling you . . . that heavy mountain of fear and despair and self-doubt? It lightened considerably. Sharing that with you . . .” There was a tremor in her voice, and she paused for a moment in an attempt to control it. “I felt relieved. And less alone. But I feel like I put all of that on you, Harris. Everything I’d been carrying for the last decade was planted firmly on your shoulders.”
“My shoulders are broad,” he murmured. “They can carry a lot.”
“But it was too much. I put you in that place, that truly awful and lonely place that I’d been occupying for so long. And maybe it was unintentional and inevitable, but it also wasn’t fair. It should always have been a shared burden. Not mine or yours to carry alone.”
“Tina.”
“Harris,” she responded, a gently teasing note in her voice when he didn’t follow up with anything else.
“Why did you start sending me those texts?” he asked unexpectedly, and she hesitantly reached over to place her palm over the back of his hand, where it rested on the table between them.
“I think because I knew what you were going through. Ten years ago there was no one to help me through the grieving process. And I suppose I wanted you to know you weren’t alone. I wanted to be there for you. Even if it was just through silly texts.”
“I didn’t deserve such consideration.”
“Harris, you would have been there for me.” She stated it as unequivocal fact, because she knew, in her heart of hearts, that the words were true.
“I’m not so sure,” he said doubtfully, and her hand tightened over his.
“I am.” He turned his hand over, and her palm was cradled in his. No longer passively receiving comfort but actively returning it.
“How long will you be in town?” he asked after a comfortable moment of quiet.
“Not long—a few days at most. I have to get my flat on the market and spend some quality time with the fam.”
He winced.
“Sounds grim.”
“Yep, family dinner tonight,” she said with a shudder. “The last time I went to one of those, Libby went into labor and saved me from the horror. A true friend, that.”
“What a champ,” Harris said, his voice so dry it cracked, and she chuckled.
“Wanna come with me? I could use some backup.”
His head tilted as he watched her assessingly, as if trying to figure her out.
“Okay. But only if you join me at my obligatory parental dinner, tomorrow night.”
“Deal!”
“Why, Harrison, how lovely to see you.” Mercy Jenson greeted them effusively when Tina and Harris walked into the huge family den in the Jenson home that evening.
“Mrs. Jenson.” Harris greeted her smoothly and walked over to drop a kiss on the older woman’s unnaturally smooth cheek. He turned to pump Tina’s father’s hand effusively. “Sir, good to see you again.”
More handshakes with her brothers and Dumi and a peck on the cheek for Kitty. Smith was going stag that night; apparently things between him and Milla had hit a rocky patch. Tina’s youngest brother gave her an effusive hug, lifting her off the floor in the process, and she laughingly commanded him to put her down.
It was nice being home; she had actually missed her brothers, and it was so much easier to converse with them, now that they were no longer starting every second comment with “Do you know what your problem is . . .” Tina knew that Smith had told Conrad and Kyle about her pregnancy, but neither man had asked her about it. She could tell they were still on eggshells around her, but that was okay, if it meant no longer being constantly criticized.