Harley swings around, his face stark before his eyes narrow, finding me lurking in the shadows. Suddenly an angry-looking crease settles between his brows, and all I can do is stand there looking from him, to the table lying on its side before moving to pick it up.

“Don’t!” he yells. “It’s too heavy.”

I pause halfway, watching as he makes his way over with a huff of a sigh, swooping in to effortlessly pick up the table and place it where it was before I’d clumsily crashed into it. He casts me a wry glance, brushing his hands against the seat of his pants.

“Thanks,” I murmur, feeling my cheeks heat.

Harley says something unintelligible under his breath before turning and heading back to his spot by the railing. Reluctantly I follow, keeping my distance a few feet away as I look out at the view. The eighteenth hole looks almost magical tonight. The automatic sprinklers are on, the water a kaleidoscope of colors, illuminated by the flood lights in the ground that change from blue to pink, to green and purple and gold every minute or so. It’s a beautiful backdrop, but I’m not here for the view.

Fidgeting nervously, I consider my words, but I’m far too conscious of my heart racing so hard and so fast, surely, he can hear it. I chance a sideways glance, but he remains impassive as he stares out over the night. The only thing giving away his emotion is that crease that seems permanently etched into his brow. I swallow hard, and I turn to face him, watching him intently as he does everything he can to pretend as if I don’t exist.

“Why’d you bring Emma?”

He says nothing, ignoring me, but I can see his grip on the railing tighten, his jaw clenching.

“I know what you did,” I continue, watching him, and I can see his eyes flit to the side, looking at me. “Did you do it just to hurt me?”

Harley scoffs, but says nothing more, shaking his head, and at least I know he’s listening.

“Well, it worked …” I say so quietly as I look down at my hands. “You successfully hurt me, Harley.”

“Oh my fucking God!”

I startle from his booming voice and use of blasphemy, looking up to see him almost animatedly drop his head back and throw his fists in the air. “Every single thing you do hurts me!” he yells, and his proclamation is like a slap to the side of my face as it echoes throughout the night.

My jaw drops, and he turns to face me. I notice a look in his eyes I’ve never seen before, causing my brow to furrow as I study the confusing and contradicting expression on his face. I don’t know whether he’s angry, sad, worried or scared, but it only makes my heart race even faster.

“You wanna know why I brought Emma here?”

I nod, although now I’m not so sure.