Page 49 of The Best Man: Unfinished Business

Chapter Twenty-eight

Harper

Matching the number on the airplane storage bin above his head to that on his boarding pass, Harper flopped into his business class seat with mental and physical fatigue.

He’d grabbed the almost impossibly expensive first flight he could because Mia had made it seem so urgent.

But the real cost, he hadn’t even yet processed.

What the fuck had that been about? Thanks to frequent flier miles and disposable income, the first nine hours of a full day of travel would be on a flight with a spacious workstation, catered meals, a lie-flat bed, and unlimited alcohol.

Sure, he’d be a zombie changing planes in Amsterdam, but this was the quickest available way to Accra.

The affable male flight attendant stepped over to him with a neatly arranged tray of drinks.

“Can I interest you in water, champagne, or mimosa?”

“Thanks,” Harper said, reached for a water, and downed it in one gulp.

He checked his phone again. He had sent several “check-in” texts to Jordan.

But he received no return messages. Fuck.

He shook his head in frustration. I thought she might have cooled off by now …

She hadn’t. And nothing from Murch either.

He’d made sure to text Julian on his way to the airport.

All the drama that he’d been through with Jordan this morning had crystallized for him the unpredictability of the female mind.

Because of that, and his tense conversation with Murch last Sunday, Harper didn’t want to leave anything to chance.

He reread the message he’d sent to Murch at the airport.

Yo, delete that photo. Delete it. U were right. On my way to Accra now. Too much to explain. I’ll hit you. Delete the photo!

It wasn’t his most elegant text, but that message needed to be sent right away.

He hoped it had arrived on time. Murch was right; blindsiding Robyn was wrong and he couldn’t run the risk of that photo being shared, innocently or otherwise.

She’d be irate hearing about this new chapter with Jordan from anyone else but him.

“Can I take your jacket, Mr. Stewart?”

Harper handed over his new jacket, the one that had witnessed his incredible night with Jordan at the Hollywood Bowl, and opened up his journal.

The writing he’d do today would be robust for sure.

“What the fuck, man?” he whispered again.

He took a deep breath to settle down and start writing but succeeded only in jotting the date.

Harper couldn’t get the sound of his daughter’s voice out of his mind.

“Mommy needs you,” Mia said this morning.

She intimated that Robyn was being threatened by a “bad man.” When Harper pushed for more details, Mia was vague, like she didn’t have the words for it or maybe the right words would have gotten her in trouble.

She spoke about the restaurant having a “ broken roof” and “stinky food.” But she was mostly talking about a “bad man.”

“Is it that Kwesi guy, Mia?” Harper asked. She didn’t answer directly. She just looked around over her shoulder over FaceTime as if someone might be listening.

“There’s bad men here, Daddy” was her response. The sound of her voice was unmistakable. His daughter was scared. It was Harper’s job to make her feel safe.

Daddy loves you and will always be there for you, Harper had promised.

He wished he understood exactly what was going on so that maybe he didn’t have to just pick up and leave.

He wanted to stay right where he was. With Jordan.

But that was selfish. Wasn’t it? He was a parent.

A divorced parent who hated hearing his daughter feeling alone and helpless halfway across the world.

He couldn’t do nothing. And if he’d called Robyn?

Sure, she’s the adult, the co-parent. He could hear her say, Oh, you’re too busy in your life to be there for your daughter in her time of need?

Fuck no. He wasn’t going to be “that dad.” But Harper had asked Mia to put Mommy on the phone.

“Noooo, Daddy. Please. Don’t tell Mommy.

” Tears were bubbling at the corners of her big eyes, each one pricking at Harper’s heart.

He could be there quick enough to speak to Robyn in person.

And so he decided to do what his little girl asked of him.

He had to go; Mia had asked him to and he had promised. And she’d asked him not to tell Robyn.

“Why not?” Harper inquired of his daughter. There was a noticeable pause as Mia looked down and away.

“She told me not to tell.” Mia had sounded scared. While under normal circumstances he would have questioned this, lately Robyn had been less than transparent. What secret is Robyn keeping? This gave Harper nothing but anxiety deep in the pit of his stomach.

“Daddy’s coming.” But his promise to Mia meant leaving Jordan…and now, when she’d asked him to stay? He’d never heard Jordan sound like that.

Maybe he’d have decided differently if Mia hadn’t told him Robyn was keeping secrets.

Why would Robyn do that? Was she in over her head?

Was this new boyfriend… hurting her ? He and Robyn had formed a good co-parenting situation, and they were friends.

At least friendly. So why hadn’t she told him about this?

Then again, she hadn’t told him about this tall-ass African dude she was dating…

and he hadn’t told her about his paramours.

Why would he? Why would she? That’s their respective business.

Still, he cared about Robyn. He still loved Robyn.

And didn’t want anything to happen to her.

But he had a bad feeling about Africa. And finally, he had unraveled enough of his jumbled thoughts to write.

Stop it, Harp. Don’t let western propaganda dictate what you feel about an entire fucking continent. Western education and white supremacy have done a number on all of us. Hell, what I’ve experienced in Accra was pretty nice…

I hate being so far away from Mia in times like this. A problem that only daddy could fix. Or at least she thinks only daddy can fix. And fuck yeah, I can fix it. I’m still her hero. And i will be that. damn it…

Robyn has always had a lot of pride and even when we were married.

Even if she needed help now she’d try to figure it out herself. She was resilient in that way…

Man, I’ve never seen Jordan so upset like that.

The way she said “don’t go.” That got me.

She was—I don’t know—not like the Jordan I’ve ever seen.

It was irrational, crazy. She was so…Broken…

so sad…it was all I could do to say no. I tried to reassure her I’d be right back.

And when I asked her to be my friend. MY FRIEND, she fucking lost it…

She acted like I told her to kiss my ass.

This is my DAUGHTER we’re talking about.

She takes precedence over ANYBODY. Even Jordan, my best friend…

wow. She’s so much more than that now. But still that’s our foundation.

That’s history, That’s my girl, my peeps.

How does she not understand that? Shit, she knows how I feel about her.

Doesn’t she? Wasn’t that evident in the last two weeks? I know I felt it. How could she not?

I need to handle this—whatever “this” is—myself. I don’t know what is happening yet and I don’t need to bring anyone else into it. I love Jordan and we had an amazing time but that would have been messy. Messier than I’ve already been…

Harper was more tired than he realized. His eyes got heavier and his handwriting trailed off the page. He fell asleep upon takeoff and woke up over Nevada. He immediately checked his phone for any sign from Jordan.

Nothing.

Shit. So we’re back here again…?

Murch? No. Nothing other than an email from Stan.

His way of checking in was to tell him how excited the studio was about the new direction Harper proposed, closing with his real message—with a week to go, “stay focused” and “bring it home.” Harper sent a quick reply about how excited he was as well and how great the process had been going.

At least, it had been going well…when he was with Jordan.

Hours later, long after a snack of nuts and black coffee, Harper had purged his thoughts once again.

When he checked his phone for what felt like the hundredth time for any messages, there was still nothing.

Nothing from Murch, nothing from Jordan, nothing at all.

How could that be? He sipped the last of his coffee and flagged the flight attendant.

“Yes, Mr. Stewart.” The uniformed attendant arrived almost immediately. Harper gestured with his coffee cup.

“Yeah, is the Wi-Fi working? And could I get a refill?”

“It should be. I’ll go check.” He took Harper’s coffee cup and napkin before dashing away. Harper stuck his head back into his computer and phone to check the signal again. Minutes later the flight attendant returned with Harper’s hot coffee and news.

“Looks like the Wi-Fi was down, but I just rebooted it. Should be on soon.”

No Wi-Fi? What if Jordan had responded? What if there was something he could say, anything now, to get them back on the right track?

It killed him to be stuck with no connection to her, sentenced to his own thoughts and ruminations on ruining the best time of his life.

For now, he’d just be haunted by the last words he’d heard her say to him.

“Just go!” Jordan had screamed. “Get the FUCK. OUT!”

Harper couldn’t get her voice and the look on her face out of his head. She may as well have said “Get the fuck out, fuck boy.” She didn’t even come out of the room to say goodbye. Silence was the feminine death knell of relationships. When a woman’s fed up, you are fucked—left on read.