Eve and I are walking across campus when I spot him. Them. My grip tightens on the coffee cup I’m holding, the whole reason we stopped by campus before leaving for Thanksgiving break, which starts tomorrow. I’m dropping Eve off at the airport before driving to Claremont.
“Harlow, earth to Harlow!”
“What?” I ask Eve.
“What are you looking at?” She follows my gaze, then smirks. “Oh, look, it’s our third roommate. Let’s go say hi!”
“Eve, no—”
It’s too late. I’m already being tugged in Conor’s direction. He’s standing with a woman I’m certain must be his mom, pointing at the main humanities building.
I’m about to meet Anna Hart.
I don’t know very much about her. I know she and Hugh dated for a long time before she got pregnant. I know Hugh moved on quickly with Allison, who didn’t know Anna existed. Thanks to Conor’s little bombshell at the track yesterday, I know the history isn’t as ancient as I thought.
And I’m guessing she views me as guilty by association the same way Conor did…or does. I’m not really sure how he views me.
I watch the two of them talk.
It’s obvious they’re close. There’s no awkwardness or unfamiliarity as they chat and smile. I assumed they must be, but it’s different to witness it in person. I can’t picture Hugh Garrison as part of the scene in front of me, and it’s strange to think he could have been. And even weirder to realize that, if he was, I would have never met Conor. He would have gone to Brighton or some other school with an amazing hockey program.
“Conor!” Eve calls out.
His eyes snap to her, then slide over to me as we approach.
Up close, Anna Hart is stunning. Shoulder-length hair the same dark shade as Conor’s frames a heart-shaped face. And she has his eyes, the shifting shade of bluish gray. They’re his eyes in my head, even if he inherited hers. She’s dressed casually, wearing jeans and an oversize sweater.
“Harlow and I are leaving for break,” Eve is saying. “I just saw you and wanted to say hi.”
I appreciate she’s making it clear coming over here was her idea, because Conor is giving no indication how he feels about me meeting his mom. He easily could have orchestrated this introduction himself. But he didn’t, and that feels purposeful.
Anna looks to me as soon as Eve says my name. There’s no malice in her expression, only interest.
I shift under her scrutiny. The deck is stacked against me, but for some reason I don’t allow myself to dwell on, I really want her to like me.
“Hi, Ms.—uh, Dr. Hart. I’m Harlow.”
I hold out a hand for her to shake. Her grip is firm.
“Anna is fine,” she tells me.
“It’s very nice to meet you.”
“You, too.” Anna is still studying me, her expression more curious than anything.
I wonder if Conor has ever mentioned me to her, or if she’s relying on town gossip the same way I am. Allison and Hugh are very involved in the Claremont community. I’m sure them taking in an orphan was the gossip equivalent of local headlines.
Based on my eavesdropping over the years, my understanding is that things fell apart between Anna and Hugh before she learned she was pregnant, and Allison entered the picture soon after.
Maybe a moral gray area.
Maybe just terrible timing.
But it resulted in Anna raising a son alone. I kind of want to tell her that she did an amazing job.
“I’m Eve,” Eve says.
Anna smiles. “Nice to meet you, Eve.”
I shove my hands into my pockets, avoiding Conor’s gaze.
“Well, we should get going. Good luck tonight, Conor.”
I start walking before anyone can say anything, praying Eve will follow.
She does.
“Sheesh. Slow down a little, will you?”
“You don’t meet a fuck buddy’s parents, Eve,” I hiss. “I can’t believe you pulled me over there!”
“His mom seemed perfectly nice. And I hate to break it to you, Harlow, but you and Conor Hart are not fuck buddies. You are full-on dating, which is obvious to everyone who’s been around you two recently. Except you. And maybe him.”
“You’re wrong,” I tell her, but I’m not positive she is.
“Hayes!” is shouted behind me.
I turn to see Conor jogging toward me.
Eve gives me a look, then keeps walking. “I’ll meet you at the car.”
“I’m so sorry,” I blurt, when he reaches me. “Eve saw you and pulled me over before I could—”
“It’s fine, Harlow. I just, uh, realized I won’t see you until after break. Wanted to say Happy Thanksgiving.”
I raise one eyebrow. “You do know I’m Canadian, right? We celebrated weeks ago.”
He snorts. “Yeah, I know you’re Canadian. But we go to an American school and live in America and you’re celebrating on Thursday, right?”
“Right.”
“Yeah, so, Happy Thanksgiving.” He glances over one shoulder at his mom, who’s reading a plaque next to the giant elm in front of the library. “I should go. See you.”
Our gazes connect, neither of us moving. For one wild moment, I think he’s going to step forward and kiss me, the way he did at the track on Monday.
But he doesn’t. He takes one step back, then two.
“Happy Thanksgiving, Conor.”
He grins. “Thanks.”
Then he turns and jogs back toward his mom. I spin and continue walking toward the parking lot and a waiting Eve.
We’ll be in the same town for Thanksgiving. But he made no mention of us seeing each other or hanging out.
And I know that means no matter what has changed between us, some things haven’t.
Some things won’t.
