Game Changer (31 page)

Harper's party was a smashing success. Locks was jumping and so packed with her friends and people in the community that she'd be lucky if the fire marshal didn't shut them down. Even several members of the breast cancer support group had shown up, to Harper's delight. The band she hired was rocking out on stage and the booze was flowing freely. By all accounts, it was the grandest party that Destiny Falls had ever seen.

Every direction that Harper turned, she found another smiling face, another friend to hug. She danced, she ate, she fielded compliment after compliment about the way she looked, and she even convinced a few people to play her in darts.

Playing on Locks' many mounted television sets was a slide show that Harper had created about her life, with Presley's help. Her family growing up, the many countries and states she'd lived in, the evolution of Locks from the day she signed the mortgage papers and remodeled the building, to the day she earned her first dollar. It scrolled through her years in Destiny Falls. Her friends, keeping score for Bomb Squad, last year's Wounded Veterans International charity gala.

Then the real fun began. Her and the girls after skinny-dipping, her in the hospital after surgery, fishing, skating, jogging, renting the houseboat, and visiting the Empire State Building. So many magical moments. She hadn't pulled any punches and so had included photos of her with Brandon, too. Nothing could erase him from her past and her heart, no matter how badly she sometimes wished she could. She wouldn't ignore what he's meant to her life.

The photos of Kayla warmed her heart. She'd written to Kayla every week since she'd left for boot camp, though she wasn't allowed to write back. Boot camp graduation was coming up soon, and Harper had already purchased her ticket to attend. She couldn't wait to see her honorary little sister again.

When the first shot of her skydiving appeared on screen, she looked away, not that it did any good. Brandon's fingerprint was on every shot, whether he was in the photographs or not. She would eternally be in love with him, and she would always wonder what might have been if that fabled night of bad sex had gone differently or if they'd had time in Miami after their night of great sex to sort things out, but she wasn't going to let the
what if
s slow her down.

Then the photos of her fishing trip started. Presley had taken a lot of great action shots of all of them. She stopped on the one of herself holding up the salmon, her face radiating with accomplishment and pride.

Marlena, Olivia, and Presley appeared before her, drinks in hand.

“I can't believe everything you've done,” Presley said. “And I helped you organize the slide show! I hadn't put it all together until seeing it now. You've led a helluva life so far.”

They held up their drinks and clinked glasses.

“And I'm only forty years into it,” Harper said. “With any luck at all, I'm not even halfway done yet.”

Presley raised her palm to the heavens as if to testify. “High five. You really are a badass, my friend.”

Duke stepped up to the karaoke machine.

“Uh-oh, he's not going to sing again, is he?” Allison whispered. “He was the worst at the wedding party. He can't carry a tune!”

But then Duke started to speak. “As you're all aware, we're here tonight to celebrate a very important birthday, not because it's a nice round number like forty, which is all very well and good, but because we're coming together for a celebration of the life of one of the pillars of our community.”

At the moment he said the words “celebration of life,” it hit Harper what the slideshow and Duke's speech and everyone gathering together at Locks felt like. She grabbed Presley's and Olivia's arms, her mouth lolling open. “Oh my God. We're at my memorial service, aren't we? My celebration of life party. This is what it's going to be like! So weird. Pinch me so I know I'm not dead.”

Olivia giggled. “You're right. That's so morbid, but true. You throw a great memorial service—er, celebration of life party.”

Presley clapped and gave a whoop of laughter. “Yes. I was thinking the same thing but I didn't want to say anything to you. I'm so glad it's not just me.” Then she pinched Harper's side.

“Ow!”

“There. You're alive. I proved it.”

“We should throw more celebrations of life while people are still alive. This is nice,” Harper said.

Olivia wiggled her fingers. “Dibs on next. But I'm going to have to do a lot more interesting things with my life before the party or else my slideshow is only going to be, like five slides of me standing in my classroom.”

They tuned back into Duke's speech as he raised his half-full rocks glass. “A toast to Harper, one of the classiest broads I've ever met.”

Amid her friends' chuckles at the dubious compliment, Harper mouthed her thanks to Duke as she held her beer aloft and the room saluted her.

“And now,” Duke said. “Get your singing voices ready, everyone, because the candles are lit and it's birthday cake time. Lights, please?”

The room plunged into darkness. The kitchen doors swung open. Donna appeared, pushing a rolling cart holding a massive white cake lit up by dozens of burning candles.

The room chorused with the opening lines of “Happy Birthday,” sung in about five varying keys all at the same time. It was yet another magical moment in her life.

Harper clasped her hands in front of her heart, her eyes watering as overwhelming love and gratitude washed through her.

A bang sounded from the darkness, a door opening with such force that the sound of it hitting the wall cut off the song. Everyone turned to the light streaming in from Locks' now-open main door. A few people gasped, but the room was otherwise silent.

Harper rocked up to her tiptoes to see over the heads of the crowd to catch a view of what was going on. In the doorway stood the silhouettes of three men. The bar's lights flickered on, then an echo of gasps and sounds of surprise filled the air. Harper swayed and clutched Presley's arm for support.

She couldn't speak, she couldn't breathe or move or do anything but stay standing upright as the sea of gaping, wide-eyed people parted, creating a path between her and Brandon.

He locked his fierce gaze on her and limped into the room, leaning heavily on a cane and looking worse for wear in a disheveled suit, the tie loose and hanging off-center. His hair was mussed up and his cheeks were flushed, his brow sweaty. Behind him stood a cameraman and another man who Harper didn't recognize.

He stopped before her and straightened to his full height, his unflinching gaze never straying from hers. Adrenaline and tension poured off him in waves, recognizable in the telltale clench of his jaw and the strain of the muscles in his neck.

“I'm sorry I'm late.” Even his words came out as little more than choppy shards of sound.

Presley peeled Harper's hand from her arm and gave her a gentle push, shuffling her forward.

Harper balled her hands into fists, so tempted was she to reach out and touch him to make sure she wasn't dreaming. Or dead. “You're supposed to be in Miami. Today's the taping of the
Meet the Groom
finale. You're choosing your bride tonight.”

She couldn't get her hands to lift so she could give the word
bride
air quotes. She couldn't seem to move at all. The room was dead silent, as though everyone was holding their breaths the same as Harper was.

Brandon's jaw rippled, then his Adam's apple bobbed in a slow swallow. “I choose you.”

“What are you talking about?”

Using the cane, he took another stiff step closer to her. “You're the one I choose as my bride. Only you. Always you.”

Harper felt herself swaying again. Stupid high heels. Where was Presley's arm when she needed it?

Then Brandon was there, his hand sliding up her forearm to her elbow, his eyes searching out her gaze as she steadied herself.

“But the show,” she said. She gestured to the cameraman standing to the side of them, capturing everything. “What's going on here? Why are they filming us?”

He shook his head. “Because I choose you.”

No, he didn't. He hadn't. “You moved to Miami. You're done with Destiny Falls. You moved on with your life.”

Another shake of his head.

She tried to suck in a deep breath, but her ribs were squeezing too hard for her lungs to work right. “What does that mean, ‘no'? No, what? Why do you keep shaking your head?”

Her words came out weak and breathy. She gripped his arm harder.

The cane clattered to the ground as he released it to caress her cheek. “I couldn't move on with my life because you are my life. You're my everything. I was a fool for ever thinking I could live with letting you be the one who got away.”

Harper drew a tremulous breath. She had so many questions, she couldn't figure out which one to ask first. She couldn't yet trust what he was saying to her; she couldn't trust that this was real.

In her peripheral vision, Harper saw her friends gathering around her. Presley leaned in. “Your turn to talk, champ,” she muttered out of the side of her mouth.

Questions were firing so fast through her brain, but she kept circling back to one in particular. “Did you sleep with any of them?”

Presley clicked her tongue, probably annoyed that Harper wasn't following some kind of romantic comedy script, but it didn't make sense that he was standing before her, professing his devotion when he'd spent the past six weeks romancing twenty women, three of whom he'd gone on romantic getaways with mere hours after sleeping with Harper.

Brandon didn't bother asking for clarification of who
them
was. “No.”

“But you went on romantic getaways with each of—”

“No,” he said again, more sternly this time. “I couldn't stop thinking of the last time we made love. I couldn't stop thinking about how desperately I'm in love with you.”

“You two had sex? And more than once?” Presley whispered. “You never mentioned that!”

Harper shushed her, then turned her attention back to Brandon. She refused to become emotional or guess at the game he was playing. She couldn't risk her heart to a flicker of wild hope. “You've broken my heart a thousand times.”

“I know.”

“You don't want to get married. You called it a shackle.”

He took hold of her hand and threaded her fingers with his. His grip was firm, though his hand trembled ever so slightly. “I did. And do you remember what else I told you?”

“I remember everything you've said to me.”

“I told you that you deserved to wait for the man who was worthy of you. A man who begged you to put that ball and chain on him, who begged for a spot in your life, by your side in your brick fortress, forever. I told you that you were worth too much to settle for anything less.”

That was exactly what he'd told her, and he'd done so in order to illustrate the painful, yet inarguable point that he didn't want to be that man and that she deserved more than he would ever choose to offer her. He'd been right to resent her for trying to change him into her perfect man.

She was so angry at herself for trying to change him. Angry that she screwed up their friendship with complications, just as she'd screwed up their chance to date with unsavory complications. She was angry that she was still in love with him, after everything that had happened. She couldn't stop messing up a good thing and he couldn't stop making her ache with the pain of knowing he wouldn't change for her.

How could she be in love with a man like that? Then again, how could he be standing before her at this moment, a fierce and desperate look in his eyes, his hands trembling, more vulnerable than she knew him capable of being?

“You were right. That's what I deserve,” she said, her voice strong and proud. That's what she deserved, even if that wasn't what she wanted. She wanted Brandon, with all his flaws and brilliant charisma, his heart of a lion.

“Yes, you do deserve that.” He clutched his chest, and with his next breath, his fierce, blue eyes turned glassy with wetness. And then he sunk to one knee.

The party guests shifted and a swirl of whispers and gasps floated over the air, but Harper couldn't tear her eyes away from Brandon as he pressed his forehead to her hand, then sought her gaze once more.

“This is me begging, Harper. I'm begging you to love me, to have me, because I can't live without you. I can't breathe without you. There is no me without you.” He rotated his jaw, as though the weight of his emotions was turning his muscles into lead. “I can't stand it any longer, you not knowing how utterly I've fallen in love with you. You're already my best friend, my everything, but I want more—no, I demand more. I refuse to live one more minute of my life without you by my side. As my partner, as my lover, as my wife. My world.”

Harper reached her free hand out and traced the angle of his cheekbone, capturing a solitary tear that had broken free from his eye. Collecting herself, she drew as deep a breath as she could and looked around the room, above the heads of their audience.

On every television set, photographs from the last two months flashed at her—the evidence of their growing bond. The party at Duke's lake house, the hospital, skydiving, hockey, yet the photographs showed only a fraction of the moments that built a friendship like theirs. The late-night conversations, the endless text messages, the arguments and the jokes, the laughter and the tears. The messy moments that made up a history together.

The photographs didn't show the man who'd shepherded her through her darkest hours surrounding her surgery, who'd held her tight through an endless night and told her over and over that she wasn't alone until she believed him. This was the man who'd taught her how to live, to really live.