She’s joking, but the question lands somewhere deep. “I don’t know. I guess when I would’ve been the age to start those things, Mom and I were...”
I glance over. Harper’s watching me, another chip hovering midair. Waiting.
“Eat your chip,” I laugh, but then I add, quieter, “I guess I never really told you about this part of my life.”
“Fuck. Sorry. It’s okay if you don’t want to—I’m not trying to pry.”
“No, I want you to know.” The words come out more intense than I intend. “I want you to know me. All of me.”
Before I lose the chance.
Silence. Then I force myself to continue.
“Mom and I weren’t always... I mean, I’ve always gone to a fancy prep school, but we weren’t always rich.”
Harper’s feet drop back down to the floor. The chip disappears back into the bag. “Yeah? So, were you like, on a scholarship like Marie when you were younger?”
I shake my head, swallow. “My dad paid for it.”
“You never talk about your dad,” she says quietly.
“Because he’s not worth talking about.” I swallow, teeth gritting involuntarily, and yep, my jaw’s going to be sore as fuck by the end of the day. “Not because there’s nothing to say.”
“Did he and your mom get divorced?”
“They were never married.” My knuckles tighten even more on the steering wheel.
Nine and three. Check position. Still perfect.
Check mirrors. Rearview, left side, right side.
Check speedometer: 64 mph. One under. Adjust to 65.
“Oh. Well, that’s not a big deal,” Harper quickly assures. “I mean... It’s more common lately for people not to get married, even when they’ve got kids together.”
My jaw clenches. Unclenches. Clenches again.
“Oh, hewasmarried.” The bitterness in my voice startles even me. “Just not to Mom.”
“Shut the front door.” Harper sits up straighter. “The bastard was already married? Did your mom know?”
“Not until after she was pregnant with me.”
“Shit, I can’t even imagine. Helen’s so...”
I smirk, but there’s no humor in it. “Don’t judge a book by its cover.”
“She’s just got such homemaker vibes.” Harper still sounds so surprised, it’s a little funny.
“Well, once upon a time, she was just a nineteen-year-old sophomore at Harvard when she fell in love with a visiting professor. And she only found out she was married after she was pregnant and dropped out of school and moved to Dallas to be with him.”
“Fuuuuuuuuuuck.” Harper draws the word out, long and low. “That’s intense. But she still...” She pauses, apprehensive. “She decided to keep the baby. Obviously.”
I let out a long breath, stare hard at the pavement. “It’s fucking weird. Wishing your mom had aborted you.”
Harper goes completely still.
“She didn’t want a kid,” I say, voice flat. Clinical. Like I’m presenting facts for debate team. “She was only a year and a half into her degree at Harvard. On scholarship.”