Free The Sweetest Thing by Deborah Fletcher Mello Page B

beverage. “Quentin, thank you for my coffee but I got to be heading home. My show is about to be on.”
    Quentin nodded. “What show is that, Mrs. Todd?” he asked.
    She chuckled. “The one I watch behind my eyelids.”

7
    For the second time in less than a week Harper was blubbering like a baby. No matter how hard she tried to stall the wealth of saline falling from her eyes she couldn’t. Quentin knocked on the bedroom door and, hearing her sobs, pushed it open without waiting to be invited inside.
    Harper was sitting on the floor at the foot of the bed. She tried to speak but had no words, instead wailing her hurt with complete abandon. Dropping down onto the floor beside her he fought back his own tears, a host of emotion exploding between them. Harper dropped her head against his shoulder, still sobbing. Wrapping his arm around her shoulders he pulled her close. With his free hand he reached for hers and held it, his fingers entwining with hers. Lost in the moment neither said a word, the soft timbre of music playing on the stereo echoing in the distance.
    When Harper’s sobs finally transitioned to short gulps and hiccups he questioned if she was going to be all right. She shook her head with uncertainty.
    “All I have ever known is what my mother told me. She always said my father wasn’t any good. She swore that his not loving her meant he never loved me, too. And I believed that with everything in me. I believed it and believing it kept me from my father. It hurt his heart and it ruined me! Now I come here and everyone keeps telling me what a great guy he was and how much he loved me and I see how you and Troy are, how much you loved him and how much he seemed to love you two back and suddenly I don’t know what to believe!”
    The tears were flowing again as she stopped to take a deep breath. Her nose was running and Harper found it difficult to breathe. She took short breaths through her mouth, her sinuses congested. She couldn’t begin to fathom what Quentin had to be thinking about her and she knew she must have looked a fright.
    Quentin nodded, not sure what to say, if anything should be said at all. A brief moment passed before Harper continued, still sniffling and tearing.
    “If I tell you something do you promise to keep it to yourself?”
    “If it’s something you don’t want me to share, of course I’ll keep it a secret,” he answered.
    Harper nodded. “All my life I’ve had major issues about my father. So much so, that I haven’t been able to trust any man with my heart. And my mother didn’t help the situation because in her mind every man was a jerk.”
    Quentin nodded in understanding.
    “I’ve never really dated, but I’ve done a lot of flirting. I’m a very big flirt! I’m really good at flirting.”
    Quentin pursed his lips and looked toward the ceiling. “Really? You think?”
    She cut an eye at him. “Be serious,” she said as he smiled at her. “I’ve only had two relationships in my whole life and both of those crashed and burned. My mother blamed my father for everything that was wrong in her life so I blamed my father! Had he been in my life I would have seen those travesties about to happen and I could have saved myself some heartbreak.”
    Quentin shook his head. “That’s not necessarily true. Pop was in my life and he didn’t save me from my heartbreak.”
    She shrugged. “I didn’t say it was rational. It’s just how it was.”
    “So who broke your heart?”
    “Oliver Bennett did in the ninth grade, and Jeffrey James, last year.”
    Quentin chuckled and Harper gave him a swift swat on the arm. “Why are you laughing at me?”
    “I’m not laughing at you,” he said as he rubbed the sore spot throbbing against his bicep.
    “I’m not talking to you anymore,” Harper pouted as she moved to get up.
    Quentin grabbed her arm and pulled her back to his side. “I wasn’t laughing. Tell me about Oliver Bennett and Jeffrey James,” he said, mocking