Operation Meet Cute by K.M. Neuhold
Chapter 17
HARLOW
I take a sip of the complimentary champagne and pick a piece of lint off of my jeans.
“Hurry up,” I call out to Marnie, who has been in the dressing room approximately forever.
I left Teddy to fend for himself for the day so Marnie and I could hit the most upscale bridal shop in a hundred mile radius of Dodgeville. Not that that’s saying much, but I absolutely could not let her go to the shop in town. Over my dead body is my girl getting her damn wedding dress at the same secondhand shop where she bought her prom dress. It’s her wedding dress. This shit is forever. At least, theoretically.
“Keep your pants on. There are eight trillion buttons on this damn thing,” she calls from the dressing room.
I take one more sip from my glass and then set it down, striding over to the silky curtain and rattling it. “Let me help.”
“Yes, please.”
I slip inside and try not to gasp at how beautiful she looks, even with the buttons all askew and half-clasped, the dress makes her look like a princess. She gives me a vulnerable, hopeful kind of smile, doing a partial twirl in the tight space and then giving me her back so I can finish the buttons.
“You look like a bride, Marn,” I tell her, meeting her gaze in the mirror as I deftly slip each silk-covered button through its eyehole.
“I can’t believe it’s real,” she says dreamily. “In three days, I’ll be a married woman.”
A tiny hint of jealousy mixes with my absolute joy for my best friend. She deserves every ounce of happiness in the entire world, and Oscar seems like he wants to give it to her.
“In spite of his terrible name, he seems like a great guy.” I finish with the buttons and smooth my hand over them before stepping out of the dressing room so we can both get the full effect in front of the triple mirrors.
“His name isn’t that bad. It suits him,” she argues, and I just smile.
The happiness on her face increases tenfold when she steps in front of the mirrors and looks herself over from every angle.
“I think that’s the dress,” I tell her.
“You don’t hate the pattern on the lace?” she checks, running her hands over the bodice and biting her bottom lip.
“It’s gorgeous, and you look amazing.” I step closer and kiss her cheek. “Your man is going to fall in love with you all over again when he sees you in it.”
“Thank you,” she says. We step back into the dressing room so I can help her with the buttons again. “Speaking of amazing men without the perfect first name.”
I sigh. I knew there was no way I could make it through a whole week without having to revisit this subject with her. Part of me is glad she brought it up because I’m feeling all kinds of turned around about Teddy. Something changed between us the other night in that field, and I don’t know if it's that something changed in me, or if I’m simply starting to see things I refused to notice before, like the way Teddy looks at me like he can’t help himself, like he…
I shake my head before I can let my thoughts run away with me.
“What? You want to know how he is in bed or what?” I try to deflect, but the look she gives me through the mirror tells me there’s no way I’m going to get away with it. “What?”
“I just want to know what the deal is. And don’t give me that name bullshit.” She slips the dress off and hangs it up, and I try to slip out of the dressing room, both to give her privacy and to end this conversation, but she grabs my arm to stop me.
“Fine, but can you put your clothes back on please? I don’t want to have this conversation with your boobs, as lovely and perky as they are.”
She gives me a cheeky smile and then puts her bra on before tossing me an expectant look. “Spill, honey.”
“I don’t know what to say,” I confess. “Teddy is…”
When I don’t finish the sentence, Marnie supplies me with a few options. “Gorgeous, sweet, attentive, perfect?”
“All of the above,” I answer.
“So what’s the problem?”
The problem? My gut squirms as I consider the question. I’ve spent so long purposefully not thinking about all of this that it’s hard to even form an explanation for her…for myself. There’s only one way I can think to make her understand.
“You know what the best thing is about movies?” I ask.
“What?”
“They end,” I answer. She finishes dressing and stops to look at me, her eyes searching mine, trying to understand. “In a romantic comedy, the couple makes it through everything, they get their happily ever after, and then it ends. Who knows what happened to Edward and Vivian after he rescued her from a life of prostitution, maybe they got divorced ten years later. Maybe Kathleen Kelly got bored with Joe Fox and started sending emails to some other guy, maybe Lloyd fell out of love with Diane. Maybe all these stories wouldn’t be so magical if they had to live through all the mundane aspects of actually sharing a life with someone after the credits roll.”
My chest tightens, and my hands start to tremble. I shove them into my pockets so Marnie won’t notice, and I let myself accept for the first time that maybe what I’ve always loved about movie romance is how fictional it is.
“Oh, sweetie.” She puts her arms around me, but I shrug them off.
“He means too much to me to risk losing him. Best friends are forever, but relationships…there’s no guarantee.”
“Not every man is your father,” Marnie says gently.
“No, but some are,” I counter. “It’s too big of a risk.”
“Sometimes it’s a bigger risk not to go for it.”
I shake my head again. “I don’t know.”
“At least think about it. Just…maybe don’t close yourself off to the idea of more with him?” she suggests, and I soften to the idea. Maybe I could leave the door open, or at least unlocked, and see what happens.
“I’ll think about it.”
“Good.” This time she’s the one who kisses my cheek, leaving it sticky with her shiny lip gloss. “I want to see you happy.”
“I know.”
We finally step out of the dressing room, and she lets the salesgirl know which dress she’ll be leaving with, and then we wander over to the men’s section so I can grab a couple of suits for Teddy and me.
“I can’t believe the man trusts you to pick something for him,” she muses.
“Oh please, you know I’m going to pick something fabulous.”
“That’s my point. Teddy seems like such a meat-and-potatoes guy. Like, he probably owns one suit that he wears for every occasion, and it’s not even designer.”
“Wrong.” I smile smugly at her. She doesn’t know my man at all. I mean, not my man, my…Teddy. “He’s a fancy-pants finance guy. He owns a whole closet full of designer suits. He was going to bring one for this week, but I told him there was no way he would need to wear a suit in Dodgeville.”
“That’s right. I forgot he’s a finance guy. He has the energy of someone who works with their hands.” The way she says it, it’s clearly not meant in any negative way.
“It’s the beard,” I say knowingly. He has all the sexy energy of a mechanic with the style and bank account of a white-collar man. “And he is fantastic with his hands.” I waggle my eyebrows, and she laughs.
“I figured as much.”
I pick out a couple of suits and a pair of ties that complement each other. If I’m bringing Teddy to the wedding as my date, obviously I’m going to make sure our outfits are coordinated.
“Hopefully, traffic won’t be bad on our way back,” Marnie says, carefully putting her dress into the backseat of her car. “We’re supposed to be at Mama Monroe’s for dinner in an hour.”
“We’ll make it,” I assure her, climbing into the passenger seat, and then pulling out my phone to text Teddy that we’re on our way back to town.
He responds by sending me a selfie. It looks like he’s sitting in the gazebo in the center of town. A smile spreads easily over my lips. As many issues as I have with Dodgeville, there’s something nice about seeing Teddy in all the places I spent time growing up. It’s like he’s filling up all the parts of my life that were dreadfully empty of him, which is as scary as it is wonderful.
Is it possible my heart could be safe with him? I want the answer to be yes. I really do. I want behind the scenes and after the credits with Teddy. I’m just not sure I’m ready…or if it’s even what he wants.
TEDDY
I spent the first part of the day catching up on some emails—I might be on vacation, but my clients aren’t—and then I wandered around Main Street for a while, checking out the cute shops and enjoying the nice weather.
Right after Harlow texts to tell me they’re on their way back, I get the official phone call from my boss, Rick, inviting me to interview for the New York position.
“When do I have to decide by?” I ask.
“You’d fly out for the interview on Tuesday. And listen, we want to move fast on this. If you’re chosen for the position, you’d be starting almost immediately.”
I swallow hard, glad he can’t see my face. I doubt most people react to the news of a possible promotion with the amount of confusion I’m experiencing.
“Okay, I need to think about it. That’s a big move to make,” I answer.
“A big move and big money,” he emphasizes. “We want you for this. This is an important move for your career.”
“I know, and I appreciate it. I just need to give it some thought before I agree to the interview. I don’t want to waste anyone’s time.”
“Mm,” he grunts. “Get back to me ASAP.”
“Will do.”
I hang up and tilt my head back, closing my eyes and letting the situation settle over me. If it’s between Harlow and this job, there’s no question in my mind. It will always be Low. But what if Ezra’s right? I could pass on this job for a boyfriend, a partner, but can I pass on it for a friend? Even one I’m in love with?
I want to slow play this whole thing, let Harlow come around to his feelings in his own time, but I’m going to have to lay it all out there. I have to find out if there’s a possibility for more between us, and I have to do it ASAP, as Rick insisted.
Eventually, Marnie and Harlow pull up near the park, and I get up off the bench inside the gazebo to join them in the car so we can all go to Harlow’s mom’s place for dinner.
“Can we stop at that farm stand again if it’s open?” I ask as I climb in. “I want to take a peach pie.”
“Aw, I bet Mama Monroe loves you,” Marnie says with a grin through the rear-view mirror.
“Who couldn’t love Teddy?” Harlow reasons, and my heart gives a stupid little flutter.
I’ll tell him tonight after dinner. Who knows, maybe he’ll surprise me. I can certainly hope.
His mom is thrilled about the pie. Not that I’m trying to earn brownie points, but I’ll certainly take them. There are mouthwatering smells filling the house as soon as we step inside.
“See, Low, this is how a house is supposed to smell when someone cooks. Note the lack of billowing smoke,” I tease in a low voice near his ear.
He tries to elbow me, but I dodge the attack and then catch his arm to drag him closer. A few hours apart while he went dress shopping, and I feel like I’ve been incomplete without him. Ezra was right, getting closer with Harlow has only made my feelings for him a thousand times more intense, but I can’t find it in me to regret a second of what we’ve shared in the past few months.
“This fried chicken is amazing,” I praise around a full mouth.
“I told you frying shit was in my blood,” Harlow says, pointing a drumstick at me.
“I’ll grant that you didn’t set my kitchen on fire…that time.”
“So I exceeded expectations,” he points out, and I chuckle.
His mom laughs too. “I tried and tried to teach the boy to cook, but he was always more interested in dancing around the kitchen and checking his hair in the reflection of the stove than he was paying attention to the food.”
“I guess some things never change,” I tease, receiving a pouty look in return.
“Of course I’m a terrible cook with all of this negative feedback everyone keeps giving me. It’s hurt my self-esteem, and there’s a good chance I’ll never cook again.”
“Thank god, that means I’ll have a chance to get my security deposit back.”
“You’re never moving,” he riffs back like he always does, but this time my stomach squirms. What if I do move? Who will take over my apartment instead, and will they become his new best friend? Will Harlow spend nights filling their kitchen with smoke and lounging on their couch? My heart hurts at the thought of it.
“Something wrong, Teddy Bear?” he asks in a low voice, no doubt noticing my shift in mood.
I force a smile and slip my hand under the table, putting it on his thigh for just a moment. “Just imagining the horror of living somewhere else,” I answer, which isn’t exactly a lie.
“Perish the thought,” he says wisely, returning his attention to the meal.
The evening is filled with good food and even better company. Harlow’s mom is just as funny as he is, only with a heavy dose of southern charm to go along with it. And after dinner, we end up playing Pictionary, all together like a big, happy family.
For the record, Harlow is an even worse artist than he is a cook, and that’s saying something.
“You try drawing Dirty Dancing,” he gripes, throwing the marker at me in a huff.
By the time we leave to head back to the motel, I’m full of warm, happy feelings. I’m so afraid to pin any hope on Harlow’s reaction to the news I have to tell him, but there’s a part of me that can’t stop thinking about what a perfect night it’s been. There could be a future between the two of us. I’m as sure of that as I’ve been of anything in my life.
I just need Harlow to believe it too.
