The stubborn part of me wants to ignore him, leave him standing out there on the sidewalk like he left me at Myrtle Beach. But I don’t do that, because I’m a sucker for punishment and I really want to hear whatever sorry excuse he has for leaving me in another state.

I unlock the door but I don’t open it; he can open the damn thing himself. Turning, I take a few steps as far away as I can get before turning when I hear the door click closed. And, with my arms defiantly crossed over my chest as if to shield myself from any further pain I know he is capable of inflicting, I cock one brow, watching him, waiting for him to speak. But before he gets the chance, we’re interrupted by Sarah walking through the store, awkwardly glancing between the two of us.

“Sorry,” she says through gritted teeth, flashing me an apologetic glance. “My ride’s here.” She stops at Harley, looking up at him and she slaps him a few times on his shoulder, looking back at me with a smug smile. “You better apologize. She is pissed!”

“Goodnight, Sarah!” I snap, my voice warning.

She giggles to herself on her way out, and I close my eyes a moment, making a mental note to fire her for the tenth time since she started with me only last year. With a sigh, I open my eyes to see Harley standing on the spot, looking to the ceiling, the floor, anywhere but in my general direction as he nervously scratches the back of his neck before shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his jeans. Shifting his weight from foot to foot, it’s almost unbearable watching him avoiding me as awkwardly as possible. So, I cut him some slack and speak first. “I thought you had the rehearsal dinner tonight?”

“I couldn’t make it,” he says with a shrug. “Someone called in sick,” he adds, not bothering to look at me.

“So, what are you doing here?”

He slowly lifts his head, removing his backward cap only to secure it on his head once more, looking from his feet to me, and although his face remains expressionless, the look in his eyes gives away the truth; he’s conflicted. I soften a little, unfolding my arms and clasping my hands together at my front as I lower my cocked brow. In return, he seems to relax, and I can see his shoulders sag, dropping at least an inch.

“I’m sorry I left you,” he says with a rushed breath, as if the words alone offer him some semblance of relief.

Without saying a word, I continue watching him, waiting, knowing there’s more.

“What we did last night, it was … it was—” At an obvious loss for words, Harley averts his gaze, looking over my shoulder a moment as he obviously searches for a way to break it to me gently.

Again, I help by speaking for him and finishing his sentence so as to lessen the blow for myself. “It was a mistake.”