Page 47 of The Best Man: Unfinished Business

Chapter Twenty-six

Jordan

Fifteen days plus thirty years…That’s how long Harper and I have been together….

Two days ago had Jordan thoroughly shaking her ass and swaying with Harper and the rest of the crowd to the sensual grooves at the Hollywood Bowl.

The Isleys sounded just as amazing as they did when she listened to them on vinyl back in the day, encouraging all to do what you wanna do because “It’s Your Thing.

” The night had been perfect—a celebration of “their thing,” hers and Harper’s.

Sharing with the college crew was fine, but no one was going to define “it” but them.

And right now it was really special. Shelby was constantly checking in: “How’s it going?

” “Is he still there?” “Are you guys sick of each other yet?” “Where else have you done it?” Was she waiting for the other shoe to drop?

Wasn’t everyone always waiting for that shoe to drop when things are just too perfect?

Jordan didn’t need any help with healthy skepticism.

She was built to keep her guard up. But that was almost impossible now with Harper, who’d said this was the happiest he’d been in years.

Maybe even decades. How could that be an exaggeration when Jordan knew herself, she hadn’t been this full…

ever. Never allowed it. At least not since college.

She was crazy once about Demetrius Mercer—that pedigreed, privileged Kappa pretty boy.

But when she got caught up with him, lost herself, and he stomped on her heart, who was there to nurse her back?

Her best friend, Harper. She wasn’t about to lose herself again…

And now here she was. But this time the well was Harper, and who knew how deep she could fall.

He was different though, stable now, he was her person.

It’s been fifteen days and thirty years….

Jordan didn’t want this feeling to end, ever.

Her heart was so full. Not only because Harper was the man she thought he was, but he had truly inspired her the other day at 1212.

They were supposed to be having brunch but he’d pushed her to write.

She’d gotten to see him as a true artist—her best friend, her lover.

Harper had opened a door for her. And when she walked through it, Jordan felt a breakthrough like never before, even in therapy.

What she wrote at that table, it led her to emotions she’d locked away for so long.

An overwhelming release. And that night, Harper had wrapped his arms around her and laid with her.

And he was still here, lying with her now.

That memory she hadn’t thought of in decades was an experience that had shaped her.

What she wrote on that tablecloth all made sense.

Lying in bed, she felt the tears pricking her eyes again.

I’ll never be my mother …she reminded herself.

She would never be just a pretty face and a beautiful body to some man, never.

Jordan followed her dad’s example: strong, demanding, outworking everyone, especially the men, and most especially the white men.

Only employing her mother’s femininity when necessary.

Disarm them with a smile and a soft voice to gain the advantage she needed.

Use what you have to get what you want. No pussy was promised and none was given.

I don’t fuck for free or if you pay me. Jordan could easily have been a trophy wife for the right dude, but after that day…

with her folks…she vowed no man would ever own her, ruin her, diminish her.

Ever. Fuck that. Was that love? Was that marriage?

Was her mom the first woman she’d seen dick-matized?

No thanks. She’d be the alpha and the omega if necessary.

What else had she buried in favor of self-preservation?

Maybe her sessions with Dr. Clark had laid the groundwork for such a breakthrough, but Harper had pushed her down the runway.

Their intimacy was already present, as was the trust, but now there was safety.

Unlocking herself could lead self-care Jordan further into her own healing.

Isn’t that what she was striving for? Isn’t that what she’d centered her show on?

We’re all a product of what we’ve struggled through.

And that’s something to celebrate and continue to evolve.

That’s growth. And even in her advanced years, she acknowledged she was still growing.

What is the point otherwise? How can you be an expert in wellness and healing if you don’t go through the process?

In her next session with Dr. Clark, she’d bring up Harper and this latest idea for a memoir.

Maybe that was something worth exploring.

It was, after all, her story to tell. And now, she’d found the beginning.

Memoir. She hadn’t thought about it before, but she was starting to see a vision for it now.

It did feel daunting. But it made sense.

Not writing the whole thing, but she could and should commit to writing more.

Journaling, just like Dr. Clark had suggested, what Harper got her to do.

Little by little she could uncover a multitude of aspects of herself.

There were no deadlines. There was no rush for the show, no rush to build a platform.

She was financially independent. She had Harper now.

It could develop organically, slowly, beautifully.

Right now, everything was better. I want that, she thought.

More of this life with Harper. And bit by bit, she’d write under the supervision of her best friend and lover, who just happened to hold a Pulitzer.

“Harper, you’re the voice of a generation,” her twenty-year-old-self had declared to him.

And he turned out to be just that. Jordan didn’t have his voice.

She only had hers, but Harper made her feel like it was just as valuable.

She snuggled closer to Harper and settled into a spoon. I’m going to write a memoir… she thought dreamily, aligning her body with his. The energy coursing through her body now was its own orgasm of excitement, making her toes curl. She could live in this forever.

This is the beginning of the rest of our lives….

Wait, Jordan, what the fuck are you doing?

Wasn’t she getting ahead of herself?

Jordan shifted down the bed and laid her head on her pillow.

The crashing waves served as an aural melatonin that flushed away her bubbling thoughts, lulling her into slumber.

She yawned and involuntarily closed her eyes.

The waves continued to caress her ears and paint a picture.

The whitecaps receded as another wave painted the sand gray.

Jordan exhaled deeply and settled into bed.

At the shoreline, Jordan and Harper walk barefoot on the wet sand, holding hands.

The air is windy but warm and it’s so sunny outside you need to squint—the perfect Southern California day.

Together they run from the rushing water.

She squeals and giggles, his throaty baritone laughs back at her faux fear.

He snatches her up in his arms and swings her to avoid the rush of seawater engulfing their feet and the bottom of their rolled-up jeans.

Her hair cascades in her eyes and mouth as she voices her delight.

Harper sets her down on the drier part of the beach, smiles at her, takes her hand, and leads her farther inland.

“Come on. We’re gonna be late,” Harper says.

Jordan doesn’t know what they’re late for, but she gladly lets her man lead. They walk up her patio stairs still holding hands to discover, among others, her parents awaiting them with proud smiles.

“Hey, champ,” Daddy says to her before engulfing her in a big bear hug.

He smells like old English cologne and cigar smoke, warm and familiar.

Mom kisses Harper, then holds him at arm’s length to look at him.

Jordan can’t decipher what she’s saying to him, but she’s all smiles and approval.

Mom looks as beautiful as ever. She looks like she did when Jordan was a teenager: the epitome of elegance and grace.

She turns to her daughter with the warmest smile.

Jordan smiles back and approaches Mom without hesitation.

Her embrace is filled with enchanting scents of orange, jasmine, rose, and patchouli. Mom always smells so sweet.

“I love him, Jordan,” Mom declares. She pulls back to look her daughter in her eyes.

“ Love. Oh, I’m so proud of you. You deserve it.

” Jordan’s heart is so full hearing her mom speak those words.

Her cheeks nearly burst from smiling. Jordan rests in the crook of Mom’s armpit.

Even though they never discussed it, Jordan knew her mom was disappointed she never got married.

That changes today. Harper and Daddy share some E&J brandy.

Jordan can feel it burning in her own throat, but Harper muscles through.

Her dad laughs and backslaps her man. Harper seems to enjoy it.

The sun dips behind some clouds outside.

The wind starts to pick up and the ocean seems to be churning louder.

Jordan sees the tide moving closer to the patio.

“When are you two going to have kids?” Mom whispers to her daughter.

“Mom, please…” Jordan says. Didn’t she know that moment had already passed?

Shelby comes out of nowhere to say, “Fuck that. You’re never too old to have a baby.” Ummmm, that’s not true, Shelby.

Daddy and Harper laugh as Quentin and Murch join them in a toast. Jordan makes eye contact with Harper who smiles, shrugs, and makes a silly face that cracks her up.

Lance sits off to the side with Jasmine.

She’s not Mia, but she takes care of him and Jordan likes that for Lance.

The wind picks up again and suddenly the skies turn gray.

It’s Jasmine who suggests they get inside Jordan’s house.

Everyone seems to move inside at once. Wait, Jordan thinks, I’m not ready for all these folks in my space.

How’d they all get here anyway? Where’d everybody park… ?

Harper approaches her. “I love you,” he says.

He kisses her and disappears into the party forming in her living room.

She watches him go as the sound of the waves crashing gets louder and more present.

It suddenly feels dangerously close and loud.

Jordan looks back toward the ocean and the waves are very high now and threatening to overtake her deck.

Jordan is breathing heavy, panicking…looking for… Harper. Then…

Jordan’s eyes popped open as she stirred awake from the dream.

After a moment of reorienting herself she fully awakened to the dawn.

The gentle sounds of the ocean crashing on the shore coupled with Harper’s voice floated their way to her.

It was gray and looked cold outside as the near-daily marine layer obscured the morning sun.

Her bed felt a bit too cold without Harper in it.

She’d gotten used to his warmth. She could hear his muffled voice in the distance, but didn’t see him outside, as she scanned the misty horizon through her bedroom sheers.

Then she found him, shirtless on the patio off her bedroom, talking and looking delicious.

She squinted to focus in on him—he was looking at his phone.

FaceTime? Is he FaceTiming? As she came to this realization, she heard his frantic and panicked voice.

His speech stopped and started as if listening and trying to understand what was being said.

“Honey, tell me what…” he faltered. The voice on the other side was hard to decipher with the double-paned windows and the ocean waves crashing against the shore. But it was definitely female….

“Okay,” Harper said. “I’ll be there. Don’t worry.”

Jordan heard that clearly. She saw Harper hang up.

She saw him look out at the ocean and his shoulders drop.

Then his head dropped too, looking at the phone in his hand as if it carried all the weight in the world.

Something’s wrong…. But Jordan could help, she was equipped.

His problem was their problem. Whatever it was, they’d figure it out together.

Like they always had. Together. Harper carefully pulled back the patio door, ever so quietly.

“Hi.”

He looked up surprised to find Jordan awake, looking right at him.

“Hey,” Harper said back. His voice sounded heavy, troubled.

“Everything okay?”

Harper didn’t answer right away, only looked down at the phone in his hand.

“Yeah,” he said finally. It didn’t sound convincing.

“What’s wrong?” Harper sighed loudly.

“I gotta go, Jordan. It’s Mia.”