The Fence || h. s.

41 || A Quest For Answers

I grit my teeth, trying not to show that her words hit way too close to home. "I just don't know you."

"It doesn't matter. You don't have to trust me," she retorts, shoving her phone at me. "Read this and draw your own conclusions."

My heart thunders away in my chest as I glance down at the text messages, dated January 1st. The first one is addressed to Harry, an aggressive, 'What the hell was that?'. But, what really draws my attention is his response.

H: I'm sorry that I had to do it over the phone, but I won't be able to meet up anytime soon. This can't drag on. You were right - it was a huge mistake. I never should have asked you for a second chance. We are simply a poor fit and you recognised that way sooner than I did. I was just a little boy, clinging on to what we had. I hope one day you'll forgive me for being too cowardly to tell you all this sooner

"He called me that day, all of a sudden breaking it off. I'm not going to lie to you; I felt relieved. It's what I wanted from the start, but I agreed to try 'cause pushing Harry away is just so hard…  I'm sure you know what I mean," she says as I hand her the phone. "Still, I couldn't shake off the feeling that there was more to it, and voilà, I was right!"

That's because there was more to it. It was us, having sex for the first time on New Year's Eve that led Harry to break things off with her. The fight I had accidentally overheard outside the cafè in Japan must have been them arguing. 

He ended it because our relationship was growing serious. He ended it for me. That's at least slightly reassuring… right?

Well, not really. Not if you consider everything that went down earlier—the flirting, kissing, our encounter in the gallery. We may not have been together back then, but we sure were something. If what this woman said is true, it all took place while he still had unfinished business with her, and I truly don't know what to make of it.

Being reduced to a side chick—that's not a pleasant feeling, for sure. Or was I the main one all along?

"I think…" I hesitate. Even looking at her brought on a wave of pain. Insecurity has never been a problem for me—quite the opposite—but she's just so stunning, and I have no idea what this whole 'fixing things' business entailed. What if Harry touched that delicate, sun-kissed skin when he promised to be thinking of me only? Or worse, what if he made love to her like we did last night, all the while claiming to be attracted to me?

My heart drops to the darkest depths of my stomach at the thought. Jealousy. At long last, I've finally gotten my very own taste of it.

"We should talk," I peep quietly. "All three of us. Clear it out." 

She looks me up and down again, her gaze soft and almost pitying. "The only reason I showed up here was to get answers. I want nothing to do with him. If you have any sense of self-preservation, you'd better stay away from him, too." She hesitates, before quietly adding, "I'm really– I'm sorry. Take care of yourself. He's not worth your tears."

She turns on her feet, walking away in a fit of lowly uttered curses. I let her leave, too numb to move or ask the important questions still swirling in my mind. Her presence and the revelations coming with it have made me feel powerless and meek. I'm not sure how to even begin breaking myself out of this haze I'm entrapped in.

"Miss?" I hear Scott's surprisingly gentle, cautious voice. "Is everything alright? You have been standing out here for a while."

My eyes flit to his, blurry and unfocused. "I'm fine," I murmur. "Do you… do you know who that was?"

Please tell me it was all just a bad dream. 

"Yes. That was Miss Rowe." 

His eyes hold sympathy, which only makes me feel so much worse. It's painfully obvious that he knows what just went down. He's been working for Harry for a long time, and Camille's visit coupled with the look of pure shock on my face can only mean one thing. Scott is a smart man; he can put the two and two together.