Chapter 16 - The Daughter of Her Former Best Friend
Hope was six weeks old when Harper met her.
Kinsley lived in a small rented house outside Madison.
No designer furniture.
No expensive clothes.
No Derek.
Harper stood on the porch for almost a full minute before knocking.
Roman waited in the car.
"You're not coming?"
"This is yours."
Harper smiled.
"You hate staying in cars."
"I contain multitudes."
"Show-off."
He kissed her forehead.
"Call if you need me."
Kinsley opened the door.
She looked different.
Tired.
Hair tied loosely.
No makeup.
Baby sleeping against her chest.
For a moment neither woman spoke.
Then Kinsley whispered, "Hi."
"Hi."
Harper entered.
Hope had Derek's dark hair.
That hurt unexpectedly.
Kinsley noticed.
"I'm sorry."
"Stop apologizing for her face."
Kinsley's eyes filled.
Harper sighed.
"I didn't mean—"
"No. You're right."
They sat.
Silence stretched.
Finally Kinsley said, "I got a job."
"Good."
"Medical billing."
"Very glamorous."
A nervous laugh.
"Extremely."
Harper looked at Hope.
"She's beautiful."
Kinsley smiled.
"Want to hold her?"
Harper hesitated.
Then nodded.
Hope was warm and impossibly small.
She opened her eyes briefly.
Harper's chest tightened.
An innocent person born from something painful.
But she wasn't pain.
She was simply a baby.
Hope wrapped tiny fingers around Harper's thumb.
Harper blinked back tears.
Kinsley whispered, "I don't expect us to be friends again."
Harper looked at her.
"We won't be."
Kinsley nodded.
"I know."
"But that doesn't mean I want you miserable forever."
Kinsley's face crumpled.
Harper continued.
"What you did hurt me."
"I know."
"It changed how I trust women."
Kinsley looked ashamed.
"And I'm working on that."
Harper glanced at Hope.
"For myself. Not for you."
"I understand."
Harper handed the baby back.
"But you can build something better from here."
Kinsley cried quietly.
"Do you forgive me?"
Harper thought.
"No."
Kinsley flinched.
"Not yet."
Harper stood.
"Maybe forgiveness isn't one decision."
Kinsley looked up.
"Maybe it's a hundred small decisions not to keep drinking the poison."
Kinsley nodded.
Harper hugged her.
Briefly.
Carefully.
Not restored friendship.
Just humanity.
Outside, Roman leaned against the car.
"How was it?"
"Complicated."
"Useful word."
Harper kissed him.
Roman blinked.
"What was that for?"
"For waiting."
"I'm excellent at waiting."
"You hired someone to stand in line for concert tickets."
"That's resource allocation."
Harper laughed.
On the drive back to Chicago, they talked about children.
Not intentionally.
A billboard showed a family.
Harper asked, "Do you want them?"
Roman's hands tightened slightly on the steering wheel.
"Children?"
"Yes."
"Possibly."
"That sounds terrified."
"It is."
"Why?"
Roman looked toward the road.
"My family wasn't exactly a model."
"Neither was mine perfect."
"Your father saved strangers."
"My father also hid danger from his wife and daughter."
Roman nodded.
"Fair."
Harper watched him.
"You'd be a good father."
Roman almost missed a lane change.
"Harper."
"What?"
"That sentence is irresponsible while I'm driving."
She smiled.
He glanced over.
"And you?"
"Maybe."
"No pressure."
"I know."
That was the beauty of Roman.
He wanted things strongly.
But he learned not to turn wanting into pressure.
A month later Harper's consulting company received its largest contract yet.
A national nonprofit consortium needed fraud-prevention systems.
Harper hired six employees.
Then twelve.
She stopped introducing herself as Daniel Quinn's daughter or Derek Langdon's former fiancée.
She became simply Harper Quinn.
Roman celebrated by taking her to dinner.
At dessert, a small velvet box appeared.
Harper froze.
Roman immediately said, "Not what you think."
She stared.
He opened it.
Inside was her old engagement ring.
Derek's.
Harper's face went blank.
Roman explained quickly.
"The government released personal property recovered from Derek's storage."
"Why do you have it?"
"Your mother gave it to me."
Harper frowned.
"Traitor."
Roman smiled.
"I wanted to ask what you want done with it."
Harper stared at the diamond.
It once represented everything she thought she needed.
Approval.
Marriage.
Proof of being chosen.
Now it looked like a shiny rock.
"Sell it."
Roman raised an eyebrow.
"And?"
"Donate the money."
"To?"
Harper thought.
"A domestic abuse organization."
His expression softened.
"Done."
Harper closed the box.
Roman did not replace it with another.
That mattered.
No surprise proposal.
No dramatic attempt to overwrite one engagement with another.
He simply held her hand.
Months passed.
Two years after the wrong text, Harper woke on a Sunday morning in Roman's apartment.
Technically their apartment now.
Half his dark suits had been pushed aside by her clothes.
Her books invaded his shelves.
He complained only when she reorganized his kitchen.
"You moved the coffee."
"It's four feet away."
"I built a routine."
"You survived Viktor Saran."
"Different challenge."
Harper laughed.
Life became ordinary.
Wonderfully ordinary.
Then one evening, while they cooked dinner, Roman said:
"I want to marry you."
Harper dropped a tomato.
No ring.
No kneeling.
Just truth.
Roman watched her carefully.
"I'm not asking tonight."
Harper's heart pounded.
"Okay."
"I wanted to tell you where I am."
She looked at him.
"I want that too."
His face changed.
"Eventually."
"Eventually."
"No giant wedding."
Roman nodded immediately.
"No press."
"Absolutely."
"No comments about my dress making me look thinner."
Roman's expression darkened.
"Anyone who says that will disappear."
Harper stared.
He sighed.
"From the guest list."
"Better."
They laughed.
Three months later, Roman proposed in their kitchen.
Harper wore sweatpants.
He was barefoot.
No photographer.
No audience.
"Harper Quinn."
She smiled.
"Roman Vale."
"I don't want you to become smaller for me."
Her eyes filled.
"I don't want to own your choices."
He lowered himself onto one knee.
"I want to be one of them."
Harper cried.
Roman held up a simple ring.
"Will you marry me?"
She laughed through tears.
"Yes."
He slipped it onto her finger.
Then paused.
"Too tight?"
"No."
"Sure?"
"Roman."
"Right."
She pulled him up and kissed him.
Across town, Eleanor received a text.
She said yes.
Eleanor responded:
Took you long enough.
Roman stared.
Harper laughed so hard she had to sit down.
For once, the most feared man in Chicago had absolutely no defense.
But happiness had one final test waiting.
Because a week before their wedding, Harper received an unexpected request.
Derek Langdon wanted to see her.
One last time.
May you like
Continue to Chapter 17…
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