Page 83 of The Best Man: Unfinished Business
Chapter Fifty-five
Harper
On poker night, the crew was at Quentin’s house this month.
Quentin was the most centrally located for everyone, including Lance, who had to hit the George Washington Bridge from Alpine, New Jersey, to get there.
Harper and Murch were both in Brooklyn, though Murch was coming from a donor meeting in the city.
He got a five-million-dollar fundraising pledge from another billionaire to help fund his fourth school that would nestle in the heart of Manhattan.
So he was on quite the high. They were all in good spirits.
The camaraderie of brotherhood was in the air as were the smells of the gourmet vegan options that Quentin had laid out for them.
Between the mac and cheez, oyster mushroom calamari, and the chick’n skewers, Harper swore they were eating real meat.
If this was vegan eating, Harper was down.
Murch apologized about Candace sharing the photo with Robyn.
He had deleted it, but Candace had found it, looking for some specific photo of Kellie that she swore was on his phone.
Evidently, it was perfect for a passport.
She checked his deleted photos and there it was.
But Harper told Murch there was nothing to apologize for—he shouldn’t have put him in that situation.
Harper was the one who should be sorry—and he was.
In true Murch fashion, he forgave Harper and they hugged it out.
Since Harper had confessed so much to the women in his life it was time to do the same with his day ones and fill in the gaps that group texts left.
There were lots of laughs, but also “Ohhhh shiiiiiit!,” “Nigga what?!,” and “THE BOTH OF THEM?!” They were college teens again.
The sexcapades were titillating for sure, but the intensity of the feelings that Harper described out loud for the first time took him a bit by surprise.
It was one thing to internalize and journal about the experience of having sex with Jordan.
But it was another to express that out loud to his closest friends, his brothers, and get their honest reactions.
They were his confidants, his therapists, his collective conscience.
“Y’all was making love for real, joe,” Quentin said.
“God may have been presiding over that union,” Lance said. Harper couldn’t argue with either of those notions.
Murch simply said, “It just fits.” Leading with his Malibu experience Harper thought for sure they would admonish him for essentially going backward, sleeping with Robyn. But they all had a level of understanding. At this stage of life, it was complicated.
“You guys were married for a long time. There’s a lot of history,” Murch said.
“Shiiit. Do you know how many times Shelby and I sneaky linked before we got married?” Quentin posited, shaking his head. “Hell, that’s how Kennedy was born.”
“Sometimes those primal feelings take over. Y’all still love each other and that’s just a natural extension,” Lance declared. “Don’t beat yourself up.”
“Yeah, let Robyn beat that ass!” Quentin quipped and they all howled with laughter, including Harper.
“Ol’ Fifty Shades of Black-ass,” Lance chimed in. More laughs ensued.
Harper managed a chuckle and shook his head. These were all his family. Supportive but also holding him accountable. Forcing him to see himself, but also to love and forgive himself.
“We all have flaws, Harper,” Murch said. “We’re human. We’ve made mistakes and we will continue to.”
“Amen,” Lance agreed.
“Plus, you ain’t never prioritized any relationship or partner over yourself,” Quentin said.
“It’s who you are.” Harper looked at Quentin, wanting to challenge that notion, but the more the words sat out there, the more Harper knew he couldn’t refute them.
Murch and Lance paused the game knowing a nerve had been touched.
“Robyn used to accept it. Jordan didn’t.
It’s pretty cut and dry, joe.” Quentin wasn’t challenging him.
He wasn’t baiting Harper into a fight or trying to push his buttons. He was just being…Quentin.
Harper nodded. “You nailed it, Q,” he said. “As always. But I’m ready now.”
“How’s that?” Lance asked.
“Yeah, ready for what?” Quentin wanted to know.
“Ready to be a gardener,” Harper said simply. They all looked back at him with confusion.
“Nigga, you changing professions?” Quentin looked at him with disbelief. They all looked curious but intrigued.
“Q’s right. It’s always been about me and what I want,” Harper began.
“It’s always worked for my career goals, but not always in my friendships and relationships.
It didn’t work in my marriage to Robyn. It’s not working with these women I’m dating.
It certainly won’t work with Jordan. I been a little delicate, bitch-ass flower that needed all the watering and sunlight.
And I got all of it. Now, if I want back in my life, I have to prioritize someone other than myself. And that someone is Jordan.”
Harper looked at his boys, ready for any possible response—clown him, break out laughing, challenge the notion that he could be anything but a delicate bitch-ass flower, whatever would come.
It was quiet for a moment. They each seemed to take in Harper’s declaration, and they exchanged looks. Finally, it was Murch who spoke.
“Welp, I’ve heard enough. I think he’s ready.”
Harper crinkled his forehead. Lance looked at Quentin.
“Yeah. The ‘bitch-ass flower’ did it for me,” Lance said. “How about you,Q?”
Quentin turned to Harper and sighed.
“Yo, what the fuck—?” Harper wanted to know what exactly was happening.
Quentin took a sip of Sable from his glass and nodded.
“Yup,” he said. “That’s my nigga.”
“Fellas! Will someone please tell me what is going on, please?”
“She’s in Chicago.” Chicago?
“She’s in Chicago?” Harper echoed. “What’s she doing—?”
“What does it matter, Harper?” Murch said.
“For real, man,” Lance chimed in. “Go to her. And make it plain.”
Harper looked at his boys in a daze. The alcohol, the emotional churning in his stomach, the logic police running scenarios in his head, they all created a dubious countenance on Harper’s face and Quentin could tell.
“Don’t look like that, Harp,” Q said.
“Y’all all knew about this?” Harper asked.
“Yup. Even me,” Murch declared. “And I kept it to myself.”
“Y’all ain’t shit,” Harper said, half joking.
They chuckled. Lance patted Harper on his shoulder.
“It’s time, dawg. We ain’t getting any younger. Get back in your life,” Lance said. “You know Jordan is stubborn as a motherfucker. She will dig in.”
“You have to step the fuck up for this woman. You got to step up for the life you say you want,” Quentin said.
“You have to show her,” Murch added.
Women want assurances. Not maybes. Harper remembered that.
Of all the responses he could have gotten, Harper did not expect this one. He was grateful in that moment that his boys were his boys: supportive, challenging, holding him accountable, and loving.