Mind Lies by Harlow Stone

Author:Harlow Stone [Stone, Harlow]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlow Stone
Published: 2016-07-04T21:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eighteen

“You sure about this, Love? You know I don’t like when you’re upset,” Marcus asks me as he fastens the back of my strapless dress. I thought he would have come at me with glitz, glamour, and BeDazzle—I couldn’t have been more wrong.

“This isn’t a celebration,” he said. “You’re practically in mourning. Whether he comes or not, you still feel as though you lost something. That something could either be your memories or him, but either way, we’re not here to celebrate. No. We’re here to weep over a divine man who planted that beautiful little creature in your belly.”

“What if it wasn’t him, Marcus? What if I slept with someone else?”

“You didn’t, Love.” He answers, and when I scowl at him, he firmly adds, “You. Didn’t.”

I regard the black, strapless, floor-length dress. It’s really stunning. Tight in the bust. Layers of chiffon and silk flowing over my hips in wispy waves before touching the floor.

It’s lovely.

“I’m not upset, Marcus. A little nervous, maybe. I’m glad they agreed to keep the lighting around me and not on me. But just because they can’t see my face, clearly doesn’t mean I won’t see theirs.” I huff out a breath. “I guess I just don’t like the idea of feeling exposed.”

Grabbing me by the shoulders, he turns me to face him. “Not a soul out there is here to think ill of you. You’re lucky none of them know who you are and where you work because I’m sure the shop would have been bombarded with fan people all rooting for the love story of Jerri and Locklin. People go crazy for that shit.”

He’s not wrong. After the millions of views, Portia had informed me that the unwavering support from people across the country was astounding. The hashtag #LoveLocklin is still going strong, and I admit that the backing from these people warms my heart at times. It’s the other times, when it’s cold at night and my bed is empty, that hurt.

“Correction, it’s not shit. But you know what I mean.” He flaps his hands around, fixing my hair. “You’re a vibrant woman, Love. If he’s worthy of that, he’ll find you.”

I give him a light smile before shaking off the nerves threatening to overtake me. I seem to have been making a lot of last-minute decisions lately, this being one of them. I waited weeks before saying yes to do this . . . two days ago, which gave me little time to prepare—little time to back out.

I go back and forth between being desperate to find Locklin, and being so pissed off at him that I can’t be bothered. Sometimes, I lie in bed, lonely at night, wishing for him to find me. And at other times, I spend endless hours in the shop, doing anything I can to take my mind off him.

I now get what Portia told me months ago: The shop is not my happy place. It doesn’t bring me joy; it makes me content to have a purpose.

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