Page 45 of The Best Man: Unfinished Business
Chapter Twenty-four
Harper
Holding Jordan in the restaurant, Harper knew whatever she wrote was likely going to bring up some emotions, but he hadn’t really expected it to be so visceral.
He didn’t ask her what the memory was, and wasn’t going to, but her intense reaction warranted his immediate concern.
He certainly wasn’t going to judge one way or another.
“It wasn’t the unthinkable, Harper…” Jordan assured him as she patted wads of balled-up napkins against her face. She folded the paper she’d written on, tucked it away in her purse. A clear sign to him that it was time for a change of scenery.
They took a walk down to Santa Monica’s shops on the Third Street Promenade, but Jordan was distracted, preoccupied.
Harper kept asking if she was okay. “Mm-hmm,” she’d respond, and quietly get back into her head again.
When Harper suggested they head back to her place, Jordan didn’t hesitate.
She handed him the valet ticket to have him drive them back.
At Jordan’s place, Harper noticed her early disengagement with the movie they chose.
Their plan to Netflix and chill began in her living room, but when he asked if she wanted to watch something else she assured him she didn’t.
Instead, she wanted to “do some reading and lie down.” She rose from the couch, gave Harper a loving kiss, and walked to her bedroom.
Harper watched her stroll through the doorway before she closed it.
Maybe she needed some space. After all, they had been spending a lot of time together.
And both were used to being by themselves.
Give her space and enjoy this flick by yourself, he told himself, settling into the couch.
An hour later, when she still hadn’t returned, he decided to check on her and walked over to the closed bedroom door, opening it a crack.
He found Jordan inside, on the bed. She lay on her side, her back to the door, stock-still save for the deep rise and fall of her breath as she slept.
There, she looked so small, so vulnerable, so…
alone. Harper gently climbed in next to her, spooning her and wrapping his arm around the front of her waist, pulling himself to her, to cover her.
She pressed her backside into the warmth of his torso.
Then he knew. She wants me here…. With that permission, he kissed her shoulder and held her close.
He knew that he’d pushed her, perhaps too far without realizing it.
She pulled him closer to her and he tightened his arms around her, his Jordan…
his… love. It was his job to give her shelter, safety, and bring her back.
When Harper woke up on the bed, the afternoon sun had already set for the evening.
Lamps illuminated Jordan’s bedroom, creating a warm glow.
A song he recognized from Erykah Badu’s Mama’s Gun album was softly playing overhead.
No longer next to him, Jordan moved about the room, already looking refreshed in her sexy undergarments and a fully beat face.
As he continued to blink his eyes open, she leaned over him on the bed and placed a gentle kiss on his head.
“Come on, sleepyhead,” she said playfully.
“We need to get going. Hollywood Bowl traffic is insane, and you know I don’t want to walk in late for the Isleys.
” She was back-to-normal Jordan, moving with purpose and energy.
Harper was grateful to see her back in a state he recognized, but he still wondered about what he’d witnessed.
There was something deep there, a place he’d never seen her go.
They’d talk about it again someday. But not tonight.
They had plenty of time. Forever …She interrupted his thoughts, holding up two nearly identical black dresses.
“Which one?” Harper pointed to the one in her left hand.
Jordan took another look at it. “Really?”
“Yeah. Other one looks nice too.” They both looked the same. She held the first dress up against her body and looked at her reflection in her walk-in closet mirror.
“You think?”
“Mm-hmm.”
She held up the other dress and said, “Okay. Get up. Get dressed.” With that, Jordan ducked inside her closet. Yup. She’s back.
After battling traffic and paying for valet parking to avoid the long walk up the hill, Harper and Jordan arrived at the Hollywood Bowl’s plaza of restaurants and refreshment bars.
Jordan looked stunning in what was the fifth dress option, and Harper felt good in a fitted gray sweater, jeans, and a black suede jacket he’d purchased earlier.
Jordan insisted he get it. She was right—it fit as though it was made for him.
He didn’t need more convincing after that, despite the $2,500 price tag.
They walked in holding hands, blending seamlessly with the rest of the grown-and-sexy crowd of couples who came to hear some old-school R&B.
Harper offered to grab them a couple of cocktails while Jordan made a run to the ladies’ room.
“I’ll get you a sidecar or something similar,” Harper said as he gestured toward a bar with a winding queue. Grown-and-sexy folks liked grown-and-sexy “dranks.”
“Perfect.” She kissed him before she left, mashing her painted lips against his. She pulled back to look at her handiwork and rubbed her smeared mark off him with a thumb. Harper smiled back at her. “I love you,” she said. Her words made Harper’s smile even broader.
“I love you too.” He kissed her again.
She smiled back and pointed at his lips.
“You get it this time. I’m going to reapply.
See you in a minute.” Jordan turned and headed to the restroom.
Harper carefully wiped the remnants of lipstick off as he watched her disappear into the crowd.
He sighed at the long line ahead and resolved to decipher the menu offerings.
The buzz of his phone captured his attention.
He wasn’t expecting any calls but always kept his phone on him for Mia.
Frowning, he reached into his jacket’s inside pocket and saw an image of Murch on his screen.
“Sup, Murch!” Harper answered with a smile. “It’s a little loud where I am. We’re at a concert.”
“Okay, cool. I won’t keep you long. Just wanted to ask you something.” Murch’s tone had an uncharacteristic seriousness, out of sync with the festive nature of the concert venue.
“Shoot,” Harper responded.
Murch exhaled, the sound was loud and audible through the phone’s earpiece.
“Did you send that picture of you and Jordan knowing I’d likely share with Candace and knowing she’d share with Robyn?
” His question poured out, direct and accusatory.
Harper was silent for a few beats trying to process it.
What? He searched for an answer, realizing slowly that Murch’s question might have been its own fairly accurate summation.
Murch had started his career as a lawyer, and his juris doctor was certainly being put to use on Harper at the moment.
“I started thinking about it later,” Murch continued.
“Our conversation about Robyn’s boyfriend and how she was happy and then you were like, ‘Bam me too!’ Was that just a coincidence?
” The question sat out there for a few beats as Harper had been surprised into silence.
Despite the accusatory nature of the inquiry, he was trying to find the most honest response.
“Well…I can’t say that it was the main reason, Murch, no,” Harper said tentatively. “I did want to share what was happening with Jordan and me with you. And…um…I guess…if you ended up sharing it…then I don’t know…it’d be like…whatever…?”
“Uh-huh…” Murch said after a beat. “Right. Because I can’t keep anything to myself. I’m the town crier.”
Suddenly, Harper felt a knot in his stomach. Fuck.
“It’s…It’s not like that, Murch…” Harper stammered out.
“I mean if you shared it with Candace that would have been fine. You know?” Murch didn’t respond.
“Hello? Murch? You still there?” Harper asked.
Over the din of the crowd, the ladies in line cackling, and the band starting to warm up it was getting hard to hear if Murch let out another audible sigh or not. “Murch, can you hear—?”
“I’m here,” Murch responded. Then more silence.
Harper had almost forgotten about this new Murch who was no longer letting bullshit go.
He was holding any and everyone accountable.
Every time you have the opportunity to choose yourself over doing the right thing, you always choose yourself!
Those unfortunate words were ringing true right now.
It was a sharp contrast to earlier when Murch had expressed such exuberant joy. Me and Jordan…that’s happy news, right?
“What can I get you, sir?” the bartender asked expectantly. With Murch still silent on the line, Harper searched for the word “sidecar” on the cocktail standee, but didn’t see it. He had not figured out what a sidecar substitute could be and he felt awkward asking with Murch still silent.
“Ummm…” Harper uttered as he read but didn’t quite comprehend the cocktail menu. His head was swimming as he tried to formulate his words into comprehensive sentences. “Uhhhh…” The ladies behind him were restless and getting impatient.
“Is this nigga serious, not knowing what he wants…? For real…” went the gaggle of women. Harper began to sweat under his armpits. He looked back at the ladies who were surprised he was making eye contact but looked like they were ready to return whatever he was coming with.
“Sorry. Y’all can go ahead of me. Still figuring it out.” Harper gave an awkward smile.
“Thank you,” one of the women responded with an air of triumph. Harper stepped behind them to buy himself some more time. He put his free finger to his ear to better hear what Murch was saying, and more important, what he was not saying.
“Sorry about that,” Harper said into the still-quiet phone. “You there?”
“Yup.”
“Hey. Is…ummm? I mean, did you share the photo with Candace?”
“No. I didn’t, Harper,” Murch said. Harper felt a tinge of anxiety and an equal one of relief.
Murch continued, “And here’s why: When you heard about Robyn’s boyfriend you felt fucked up hearing about it from us rather than her.
” Harper swallowed and glanced around the lobby.
“When you heard about Robyn being happy you doubled down with this Jordan thing, which is very immature, ” Murch declared, “but human.”
“Okayyyy.” Harper scrunched his forehead in confusion.
“You should let Robyn know yourself about you and Jordan. It’s the adult thing to do. I am not doing your dirty work for you.”
Really? “Dirty work, Murch?” Harper said with a chuckle.
“Yeah. It’s messy. And you should do better.
Especially at this point.” Murch wasn’t letting up.
He had always been the moral police, but he was also an unconditional friend.
Always. Now he’d become the friend that wouldn’t let you slide, even if it made for easier conversation.
Harper’s mouth started to dry up, his chest hot and damp.
“Have you decided, sir?” the bartender asked again. Shit. Harper waved on the next couple in line to go ahead of him.
Murch continued, “Look, you’re my brother and I love you. When I tell you how happy I am for you and Jordan to have finally connected I don’t even have the words. You two deserve each other in the best way. But you should come clean with Robyn about it.”
“What do you mean ‘come clean ’?” Harper spit the words out. “I’m not sneaking around here, Murch. There’s nothing to ‘come clean’ about. Nothing happened during our marriage that needs to be confessed to.”
“I’m not saying there was, Harp—” Murch started.
“Then what are you saying?” Harper snapped back. His words hung in the air as the Hollywood Bowl atmosphere flooded with the howl of the guitar solo opening to “Choosey Lover.”
“I think I’m being clear. Don’t let Robyn find out about this without you telling her,” Murch said matter-of-factly. “It’s not a good look. And you owe her that respect.”
“Owe her?” Harper’s jaw tightened as he swallowed.
“I said what I said, Harp.”
Looking off in the distance, Harper’s eyes landed on Jordan returning, with a look of confusion on her face and a shrug like, where are the drinks?
Harper gave her the “one minute” hand signal. He needed to handle business, and quickly. He turned back to the bartender and addressed Murch through the phone.
“Yo, Murch,” Harper said. “Thanks. I hear you. I gotta go.” Then Harper pressed end.
Thoughts of Robyn had no place here tonight, not between him and Jordan.
Maybe he’d fucked up, but he’d have to think about Murch’s warning later.
Jordan was only steps away. Noticing that, he turned to the impatient-looking bartender with eyebrows raised ready for his order and leaned in over the bar. “Hey, can y’all make a sidecar?”