Pride (23 page)

“That
is
the point, Harper.” He dropped the leash on the floor and put his arms around her. “You never heard about Calvin because, once I met you, I didn’t need him anymore. I had something real I could count on. I put this leash away in a box and never looked at it again. I didn’t need some imaginary friend to keep me from feeling lonely. When I met you, Harper, I knew I’d never be alone again.”

“That’s sweet, Ad, but—”

“No, not ‘but’—you need to hear this, and you need to believe it.” He’d never spoken to her, or anyone, this honestly before, had never even said these words in his own mind, but knew suddenly that they were true, and that this was something he should have said a long time ago. “You are the most important person in my life, Harper. Not Beth,
you
. I know it took me a while to figure things out—”

“A long while,” she teased him, but she was finally smiling, though her eyes still shone with tears.

“But now I know, and I’m sure, it’s always been you, Gracie. I don’t want you to be like anyone else. I don’t want you to change, or to doubt me. I just want you. I—” He’d only said this to one other girl in his life, and it had ended in disaster. He’d vowed to be more careful, to go slow, to guard himself against more pain. But he couldn’t hold back. Not when it felt so right. “I think I love you, Harper.”

“I love you, too, Adam,” she whispered, and melted into him, her lips meeting his in a warm kiss. He laid her back against the bed, her wild hair splayed out against his pillows, and he thought idly that it was a good thing he’d changed his sheets the day before—and then the stray thought was knocked out of his head by an overwhelming rush of desire as she stripped off her shirt and he fell upon her perfect body. As he ran his fingers across her arms, her back, her chest, she wrapped herself around him.

It’s
happening,
he thought in wonder. This time, it was really going to happen. It wasn’t like with Kaia, the intoxication of passion mixed with guilt and bewilderment, or with Beth, a battle, a physical debate in which he always needed to prove himself worthy of her, and always failed to make his case. This was easy. This was right.

As he wriggled out of his jeans and groped in his nightstand for a condom, he felt a flash of panic—what if he failed once again? If he just wasn’t capable?

But then, just as suddenly, the terror passed—and all it took was a look at her face, her eyes closed, the edges of her lips pulled into a blissed-out grin. This was Harper—and with the same warm certainty that all those years ago had allowed him to banish his imaginary friend, Adam relaxed. This was Harper—and nothing bad could ever happen to him with her by his side. Together, they could take on the world. Together, they made sense.

Together forever. It was the kind of promise children made to each other, he thought, before they knew anything about a world that could tear them apart. It was such a naive vision of the future—pure, innocent. And maybe that was okay, maybe that was right—because he and Harper had been children together for so long.

Today, together, it was finally time to grow up.

chapter
12

Have you been good this year? Very, very good? Too bad.

Reality check: Santa doesn’t care if you’re naughty or nice. So you might as well have a little fun. And there’s still time.

New Year’s Eve 512 Red Rock Road 9 p.m. to dawn

Start your New Year off right—or, even better, very, very wrong.

—K

Adam locked the front door behind him and walked across the lawn to Harper’s house. He put his finger on the doorbell, but stopped, suddenly, before pressing down.

In all the years he’d known her, Harper had never been on time. She would never notice if he took a moment for himself, to think.

New Year’s Eve—and look how things had ended up, he thought, sitting down on the front stoop. Last year at this time, he and Beth had driven out to an empty spot in the desert—the same place that, months before, they’d shared their first kiss. They’d huddled together on a blanket spread out across the uneven ground, their faces flickering in candlelight. He had never wanted anyone so much—and never been so sure of anything. He’d believed in Beth, believed she was the last girl, the only girl, he’d ever want to be with. He would have done anything for her, he’d realized that night.

She’d destroyed all that—and he had thought he would never move on. That things would never be the same.

And they weren’t—they were better. Adam looked up at Harper’s window, wondering what she was doing, what she was thinking. He was thinking about her, and only her—and about the way her body had felt against his. There was no one to clap Adam on the back, to tell him job well done, but he beamed with pride nonetheless—after all, he’d proven to himself, to the world, that he was a real man. Had taken Harper in his arms and shown her how he really felt. How much he needed her—and discovered how much she needed him.

All the pain, all the resentment, all the anger he’d carried around with him these last several weeks—he was done with it, he decided. A real man didn’t need to hold a grudge. Didn’t need closure, or revenge. He resolved that, this year, he would treat himself to a fresh start. He would truly, finally move on, whatever it took. He was big enough to move on—maybe even, with the new strength Harper had given him, big enough to forgive and forget.

Forget it, Kane told himself, again. Just forget. Move on. It’s done.

But Adam’s jeering face kept swimming back into focus in his mind’s eye. Kane had exposed himself—and failed. And he didn’t like it.

Winning came easy to Kane. But then, he usually chose his contests well. After all, any game you couldn’t win wasn’t worth the effort. That was his first rule: Pick your battles, and pick them wisely. His second? It’s not over until
you
say it’s over—and Beth was a case in point. Adam thought he’d won, had sat back and enjoyed his illusion of victory, and only Kane had understood that the game was still afoot. He’d bided his time; then, when the moment was just right, had played his hand. And he’d won in the end, as usual. As always.

And that was it, Kane had finally realized. Adam couldn’t stand to lose. Too bad—who could? Was Kane supposed to restrain himself, refrain from pursuing his own desires, just because Adam wasn’t able to protect his own turf?

Not a chance. And with that, Kane felt the annoying tendrils of guilt release their tight grip around his neck. He’d done what was needed to win. And since life itself was nothing more than competition, how could that be wrong? Kane based all his actions on cool logic, on strategy—and it always led to victory. Let your emotions get involved, and things just got messy. This episode with Adam was proof enough of that.

No more, Kane resolved, ducking into a convenience store to pick up a few essential items for the big party. (Noisemakers, confetti, and condoms—after all, hope springs eternal.) Emotional attachment and clear thinking didn’t mix—and it was only by holding on to the latter that he could survive. Thrive.

As for Beth … he’d just have to be careful not to get too close. Kane had proven to himself, to her, to everyone, that he was the better man, that he could win her heart. Now he just needed to decide what he wanted to do with it.

What do you want?
Beth asked herself, sitting down on the curb in front of her house, waiting for Kane to arrive. Better to wait outside, in the crisp, quiet night, than in the noisy, claustrophobic house, dodging nosy parents and sugar-crazed siblings. She needed her space. And time to think.

Last year, it had seemed like such an easy question. She wanted Adam. He wanted her. And for so long, they were happy.

The first words I heard this year were
I love you, Beth thought in wonder.
From Adam
. He’d said it at midnight, and they’d greeted the New Year with a soft kiss that felt like it could last until spring.
Everything began with him
.

“I love you, too,” she had whispered, believing it to be true. But maybe she’d been wrong. Maybe Adam had just been easy. Safe. She’d never worried about what he really wanted, or why he wanted her around. She’d just accepted him, and everything he said—and look what had happened.

So maybe, just maybe, she was better off. Adam had cast her aside—but had she crumbled? Had she given up? Not Beth. Never. She’d moved forward, moved past Adam, found herself a new guy, a new life. And Kane wasn’t easy. He wasn’t safe. Life with him was a risk, every day a new challenge.

For so long she’d questioned that, wondered if it was a sign that she’d made the wrong decisions, that her life had run off the tracks. But now? Beth meant everything she’d said in her essay—truly wanted to be that person, someone who took chances, someone who embraced the new, the different, the difficult. And she finally knew she was strong enough to do it.

She’d proven to herself that she could handle anything—and so, she resolved, this year she’d put aside her doubts and her fear. She’d try to loosen the reins a bit and embrace uncertainty. Maybe her life was headed off the track she’d set for herself—and maybe she didn’t care.

I don’t care what he thinks of me,
Miranda told herself, over and over again. He was just a guy from the Internet—she didn’t know him, might never see him again after tonight, so none of it really mattered. She had nothing to lose. So why was she short of breath, and so nervous she felt ready to pass out?

She hadn’t eaten anything all day. Could you lose weight just by skipping lunch and dinner? she wondered. It was too late to worry about that now, and definitely too late to try on yet another outfit in a desperate search for one that didn’t make her look frumpy. At any other party it wouldn’t have mattered. How many parties had she spent hours preparing for meeting Mr. Right only to spend her night trapped between Mr. Wrong and the punch bowl? But this party was different. Because this time, she knew Mr. Right would be there—and he’d be waiting for her.

ReadltAndWeep had forgiven her for standing him up and had agreed to try again. They would meet at 11:30 on Kaia’s back deck—and if things went well, Miranda might finally get her New Year’s Eve midnight kiss.

Miranda had read dozens of self-help articles, all promising that confidence was the key to attracting a mate. Believe you look good, they claimed, and
he’ll
believe it too. Take pride in yourself—and gain his undying respect and admiration.

This year, Miranda resolved, she was going to give it a try. Starting tonight.

I look great.

I am smart, funny, and fabulous.

Any guy would be lucky to have me.

The words rang empty in her ears, but she said them aloud, over and over again. Conviction through repetition. She hoped.

Every year on this night, with no one to turn to at the stroke of midnight, she vowed that
next
year would be different. Next year, she’d find the right person, someone who would live up to her standards—and, as an added bonus, notice that she was alive. Next year she wouldn’t be alone.

This is the year,
she told herself with gritty determination, every January first.

Maybe this year, she’d finally been right.

Everything was right with the world. Finally. Adam loved her—he
loved
her. Harper couldn’t stop repeating the words to herself. She adored the way they sounded.