“But … w-why would he do that knowing it would hurt me?”

Nash says nothing, and he doesn’t have to. Instead he offers a knowing look, one of his brows quirked slightly higher. With a trembling breath, I glance back over toward the bar, but Harley’s no longer there. I turn, searching the ballroom, scanning the tables, looking everywhere. But I can’t find him. It’s as if he’s just vanished. Gone without a trace.

“You should go find him,” Nash says, as if he can hear my thoughts.

I begin to shake my head, trying desperately to think of an excuse. But I don’t have one. And when he lets go of my hand, gently shoving me away with a grin. I take an unsteady step backward, trying so hard to muster some courage, but it’s pointless. I’m terrified.

“He’s out on the patio.”

I startle at the voice behind me. Turning so quickly I almost slip over on the shiny dance floor, my eyes going wide when I see Emma looking at me with a small smile, a knowing glint in her eye.

“B-but I—” I shake my head, looking her up and down. I’d have to be a fool to think I could ever compete with someone like her. “But what about you?”

Her head drops back and she laughs out loud, causing my brows to knit together in confusion at her reaction. “Oh, please, Murph!” she shrieks, her laughter fading to a soft giggle as she cocks her head to the side, reaching out and gently touching my arm. “Just go find him.” She nods encouragingly. “He needs you, Murph. And, besides, Seth and I have been talking over the last few days … He’s really sweet. He’s driving down to visit me in Florida over the Memorial Day weekend!” She winks at me, and I gape at her as Nash laughs loudly.

I consider all of that for a moment, my heart racing in my chest to the point of pain. Swallowing hard, I take a deep breath, before turning on my heels and forcing my feet to move, despite my reservations. I have a choice to make; I either let him go and lose him forever, or I finally face the truth. This is it. It really is now or never.

***

Stepping out onto the patio, the silence and stillness of the night causes me to stop short, and I take the moment to look at Harley there by himself, appearing more alone than I’ve ever seen anyone look. Hunched over with his elbows resting on the railing, dressed in his shirtsleeves, the white cotton pulling tight across the obviously tense muscles in his broad back. He really does look as if he needs somebody. Whether that somebody is me, who knows. But here I am.

His head lifts from where it had been hanging low, and I can see through the dim light that his once perfectly styled hair is now sticking up all over the place as if he’s been running his hands through it non-stop, and for some reason his melancholy makes my heart ache. Releasing the breath I’ve been holding since stepping outside, I smooth my hands down over my dress, hesitating momentarily before forcing myself to continue. But, of course, in true Murph-style, my heel catches between the flagstones, and I stumble sideways, knocking into one of the patio settings, causing an entire table to tumble, crashing to the ground in an almighty clatter.