Page 91 of Whispers

Heart breaking, she held him. “I can’t help it, Harley.”

“You don’t love me,” he accused, and she felt as vile as the most wicked creature in the universe.

“I can’t change how I feel.”

“But I can!” He took her hand and started leading her to the sailboat.

“No—”

“There’s wine on board. Champagne.”

“I don’t want a drink—”

“Hey!” a man’s sharp voice rose over the din on the nearby vessel. “Is there a problem down there? Is that guy bothering you?” A gray-haired guy with a sailor’s cap stepped under the security lamp, his glasses reflecting the illumination from the bulbs strung overhead.

“No—no problem,” Claire said, and followed Harley on board. She owed him that much, she supposed, as she settled into one of the seats, and he found a bottle of Dom Pérignon in the small bar.

“You can’t break up with me,” he said, as he worked the cork free and it popped loudly. Champagne bubbled over the bottle’s neck. Quickly, desperately, he poured them each a long-stemmed glass.

“Harley, don’t—”

“It’s an unwritten law.” Walking back to the cushion where she sat, and, looming over her, he held out a glass.

“A law?” Tentatively she took the drink. This was wrong. Not going well.

“Yeah. No one ever breaks up with a Taggert.” He tossed back his drink in one long swallow and promptly poured another.

“That’s not a law, it’s a pipe dream. Look, I’ve got to go.” She set her untouched glass on the bar.

“Not yet.”

“Good-bye, Harley,” she said as she stood. “I hope we can still be—”

“Don’t even say it. We’ll never be friends, Claire,” he said, his eyes brimming with tears again. He finished his drink, dropped the glass on the carpet, and took a swig from the bottle. “Lovers can never be friends.”

“I’ll see you.”

“No you won’t, Claire. If you leave this boat tonight, I swear, I’ll get so drunk I can’t see straight, then I’ll haul my ass over the rail and jump into the bay.”

“No—”

“You think I’m lying?” He sighed. “Christ, Claire, if I don’t have you, I don’t have anything.”

“That’s not true,” she said, but saw the conviction in his gaze. “Come on, I’ll drive you home.”

He stretched out on the bench and began drinking from the bottle. “Stay.”

“I can’t.”

“Because of Kendall? Or Kane?”

She jumped, and he smiled crookedly, his hair falling over his forehead. “Didn’t think I knew, did you?”

“There’s nothing to know.”

“Ha!” Another long swig as the sailboat gently rocked in the water.

“I’ve met Kane—”