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April glances down the hall at Aaron as he gets onto the elevator. “Do you think he’s going to press charges?”

I chuckle under my breath. “Not worried in the slightest.”

I turn to Harper, but she’s already inside, rushing right into the bathroom.

April places a hand on my arm. “Give her a minute. She’s probably processing everything that just happened.”

“She should be happy that he’s officially out of her life.”

“Agreed. But she thought she loved him. Now, he’s saying she was never good enough. I’m sure that hurt more than you or I can understand.”

She closes the door and then asks me if I want a drink. I decline and wait on the futon for Harper.

She emerges a few minutes later, her toiletry bag in her hand. She doesn’t acknowledge me as she gathers her things. Her movements are slow, and I can tell she has more on her mind than packing.

When she’s ready, she stands by the door. I don’t ask any questions.

I request an Uber before we leave the apartment. It’s outside by the time we’re at the lobby. The ride to my place is quiet. She stays on her side of the car, looking out the window. When I lay my pinkie next to her hand, she laces hers with mine. I blow out a large breath and give her space.

She looks so pretty. Her profile is in silhouette. If I had charcoal, I’d draw her just like this—a beautiful woman looking out a car window onto the streets of New York City. I wouldn’t need an image of her to copy. I’d know her face by memory. The curve of her cheek and the way her nose dips up slightly at the end. Her lips puff out a little, and her tendrils fall at her slender neck.

When we get to my apartment, I take her bag and open the front door. She’s silent on the way up. When we’re inside, she stands by the window and looks out. She’s still lost in her own head, and I’d do anything to ease her worries.

“Harper.”

Her back is to me. Her arms are hugging herself, but she’s silent and still, so I know she’s not crying.

“I’m not a violent man. I just couldn’t let—”

“Don’t.” She holds her hand up.

“Are you mad at me?” I ask hesitantly.

Her head shakes slowly. I sigh in relief.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have hit him. I know you once cared for him, but when he said—”

“Don’t say it.” Her words quake.

I get closer. My body is so close to hers, yet I don’t know if I should touch her. I’m afraid of what she might say.

“Please don’t tell me you still have feelings for him.”

“No.” She spins around, shock written all over her face. So are the tears. Her body wasn’t showing signs they were there, but her eyes are red and burning with them.

“Then, why are you crying?”

With her head tilted down again, her eyes glance up to meet mine, the pain evident. That asshole has her doubting who she is as a woman and a lover.

I could fucking beat the shit out of him again.

I lean down, gripping her by her waist and picking her up, motioning for her to wrap her legs around me, and I walk toward my bed. Not letting her go, I slide my hand up her face, moving her hair away from her eyes.

“Do you know why I’ve fallen head over heels for you?”

She bites her lower lip and shakes her head again.

“Then, I’ve failed you. You should be reminded every day why I’m crazy about you.”