Still Yours, Mr. Oakes

In the four years Harper Stone had dated Liam Oakes, she had cried only once.

Liam had coaxed her gently. “Harper, I’ll be very careful.”

The truth was, careful had not been the problem.

She simply could not take it.

It hurt until she cried.

She pushed him, bit him, clawed at him.

Liam Oakes ended up covered in marks, looking so happy it was as if he had been handed the entire world.

That one time aside, their years together had been all laughter, warmth, and an absurd amount of happiness.

After they broke up...

Harper Stone cried for five years.

Not every day. But whenever she thought of Liam Oakes, it was as if rain started falling somewhere inside her. Damp, heavy, airless. Her eyes would go wet right along with it.

She had never imagined she would meet him again in this lifetime.

Certainly not at Owen Crowe’s dinner.

She had barely stepped into the noisy private room when her gaze landed, with brutal accuracy, on a familiar profile.

For one suspended second, her heart crashed against her ribs. The shock rolled through her like a tidal wave.

The whole world seemed to lose its sound and color.

There was only Liam Oakes.

He wore a white shirt and black trousers, his tall frame clean and powerful, his bearing refined in that distant, cool way that made people hesitate before approaching him. Even from the side, he was almost unfairly handsome.

He was looking down at his phone.

Memory overlapped with the present in a dizzying instant. The boy from before had been bright, warm, full of sunlight and laughter, all restless youthful energy. It felt as if only yesterday he had held her and lowered his head to nuzzle her, shamelessly coaxing, “Harper, kiss me.”

But it had not been yesterday.

It had been five years.

A lifetime, basically.

Her fingertips trembled. A sour ache spread through her, and her eyes stung so fast she almost hated them for it. She did not have the courage to see him.

She wanted to run.

Caught between panic and hesitation, she turned for the door.

“Harper Stone...” Owen Crowe called after her. “You just got here. Why are you leaving already?”

Harper stopped. Her hand froze on the door handle.

Inside the room, almost everyone turned to look at her.

Only Liam Oakes did not.

His thumb paused on the phone screen. Then he went completely still.

Harper exhaled slowly. Her chest felt blocked, too tight to draw a full breath.

Running into your first love was awkward enough.

Running into the first love you had broken up with in spectacularly ugly fashion was a private disaster with witnesses.

“Come in. Aria will be here soon,” Owen urged.

Aria Joubert was Harper’s oldest friend. Last month, Aria had gone on a blind date with Owen Crowe. One dinner, one spark, and somehow they had decided to become a couple almost immediately.

Their relationship had surged forward at a speed that felt frankly illegal, and the wedding was already set for the middle of next month.

Tonight’s dinner was for both sides to gather their closest friends, get everyone familiar with each other, smooth out the awkwardness before the wedding, and discuss the reception performance.

Aria’s idea was to have the bridesmaids and groomsmen dance while the bride and groom sang a love song onstage.

Only a friendship forged in some deeply questionable furnace could make a person agree to humiliate themselves publicly like that.

Harper spent several seconds pulling herself back together, then turned and walked over.

Owen came to meet her. He placed one hand near her back without touching her, keeping a polite distance, while his other hand gestured toward the open seat on the women’s side.

As soon as Harper sat down, she saw the bright, pretty woman seated beside Liam Oakes.

Hailey Birch.

Liam Oakes’s childhood friend.

Back when Harper and Liam were dating, Hailey had already been openly hostile toward her.

Now Hailey’s expression was even less friendly. She did not bother hiding her disgust. “Seriously, Owen? Since when does any piece of trash get invited to be a bridesmaid?”

The entire room went silent.

Owen Crowe froze too.

At a dinner among friends, no one expected someone to open their mouth and go straight for the throat.

Everyone looked at Hailey Birch.

Harper knew Hailey was insulting her. Her heart tightened, and shame pressed hot under her skin. She looked toward Liam Oakes.

Liam kept his eyes lowered, his attention on his phone, as if none of this had anything to do with him.

His features were sharp and cold. The bright overhead light fell across his short hair, casting a faint shadow over his brow. Everything about him seemed to say: do not come near me.

One of the women snapped, “Who are you calling trash?”

Hailey lifted her chin. “Harper Stone knows exactly who I’m talking about.”

And just like that, everyone’s gaze swung back to Harper.

Harper Stone was the kind of beautiful that never announced itself. Quiet. Unshowy. Like a rare bellflower hidden deep in a valley. Her long black hair was tied neatly behind her, her manner clean and gentle. As a public interest lawyer, she had a soft temperament that made her seem almost detached from worldly conflict.

Now everyone wanted to know what kind of history could make Hailey call her trash in the first sentence.

Being called trash should have made Harper angry.

It should have made her hit back.

But Harper knew Hailey was speaking on Liam’s behalf.

So technically, Hailey was not entirely wrong.

From Liam Oakes’s perspective, Harper probably did qualify as trash.

Owen’s smile went stiff with embarrassment. “So you all know each other already. Harper is my wife’s best friend. Do me a favor here, okay? Whatever grudge you had before, three drinks and we bury the hatchet. Shake hands, make peace. Deal?”

Hailey scoffed. “I don’t have any grudge with her. I don’t associate with women who cheat on people. Liam is the one who has a grudge against her. Ask Liam if he wants to bury it.”

She cheated?

The situation was becoming more complicated by the second. Owen’s face nearly cramped from trying to keep smiling. “Liam, you know Harper?”

What he really wanted to ask was: Did Harper Stone screw you over?

Harper’s hands rested under the table, clenched so tightly her nails dug into her palms. In the few seconds while she waited for Liam to speak, she felt more nervous than she had before the SATs.

The air seemed to thin. An invisible pressure settled over the room.

Liam Oakes had been named directly. The fire had reached him, and there was no clean way to shake it off.

He set his phone down slowly, then lifted his eyes to Harper.

His eyes were black and cold as midwinter frost, sharp with a chill she could not read.

“I don’t know her.” His voice was low, without a trace of warmth.