Page 237 of Burn Bright

She opens her mouth to speak, but more confusion twists her features.

“I know it makes no sense,” I breathe.

“You’re right…it doesn’t,” she says slowly in thought. “If you’re worried about that happening again, then never step foot on Douche Row. You don’t have to drop out of college. You definitely don’t need to leave New York or me…” Her voice fades.

I lace our hands together. I can’t figure out how to explain this. My brain is just saying,calm her down. Make sure she’s okay before you go.“What’s in there?” I nod to the paper bag on the sofa beside her. “Party favors?”

She chews her lip. “You really want to make this a Going-Away Party? Don’t you think we should invite your brothers?”

“I like this party of two.” I reach out to grab the bag.

She’s so fast to snatch it away, rolling the paper so I can’t see inside. “It’s just junk food.”

Okay.Is she hiding something from me? I nod tensely. “We could start the movie?” I suggest.

“I can’t watch a movie right now.” She places the paper bag aside, then scoots forward again. “You can’t leave. Because look around, nature boy.”

It’s very difficult to follow her whirling finger when I want to engrain her determined, hostile expression in my head forever. I try to take stock of all the potted plants. Ferns, ponytail palms, eucalyptus, devil’s ivy, weeping fig. All around us is vibrant green.

“They will die without you,” Harriet says so sternly. “I have ablack thumb.Okay, they will die in this fucking apartment,Friend. They need you.”

“I put the watering schedule on the fridge.”

She purses her lips, like she forgot about that. “It’ll slip off the magnet,” she contends. “It’s a super old Minnie Mouse one from my only family vacation. It’s practically ancient.”

“Disney World or Land?” I wonder.

“Land, and stop trying to make me smile.” I know she’s serious, but her finger at my face is just making my lips rise more, which is causing her smile to fight through. “Eden will find the watering schedule on the floor, Ben. She will trash it. Then the plants will die.”

“Every plant has a popsicle stick in the soil with its label. I have full faith that you’ll do the Harriet Fisher thing and research them and make an Excel spreadsheet that can’t be trashed. You’ll take great care of them.”

“What about the End of the World?”

“Literally or figuratively? Because I don’t think doomsday is happening anytime soon.”

“Are we sure? This feels catastrophic to me.”

That warps my thoughts, a sledgehammer to the brain. Because if I stay, that feels like the real disaster.

She takes a pained breath. “And literally?”

“I talked to Gavin. He said it’s fine if you keep bartending without me. You don’t have to worry about losing your job.”

“But what if there’s another asshole sports fan?”

My muscles flame. “You and your coworker kick them out of the bar. If they won’t go, you call the cops. Or you call my brothers. They’ll always have security with them.”

She buries her face in her palms.

“Harriet—”

“Yourchild,” she says so emphatically.

“Son of Ben?”

“You can’t abandon him.” She springs hotly to her feet. I don’t follow suit. I let her tower over me. “He might be astuffed animal, but it’s the principle of the matter. You are not a deadbeat father. Stay for your son.”

It guts me in this second—that she might believe I’d stay for a stuffed lion overher.“If I could stay, Harriet, it would’ve always been for you. You’re the reason why it’s been almost impossible to leave.”