Until Harmony (Until Her 4)

“Come on, introduce me to your guy.” She leads me toward the stairs, where my dad is taking the bags from my mom while she is greeting Harlen with a kiss to his cheek, something that seems to annoy Dad even more. Fighting back laughter, I head up the steps and look at Harlen as my mom and dad head inside, with Grandpa following behind them.

“Harlen, I’d like to introduce you to my grandma. Grandma, Harlen, my boyfriend,” I say, and she lets me go and takes a step toward Harlen, who rests his hand on her upper arm and bends low to kiss her cheek.

“Nice to meet you, ma’am.”

“You too.” She pats his arm, smiling, and then she comes back to me, getting close to wrap her hand around my cheek.

“Manners, and he’s handsome. Yes. Perfect for my girl,” she says quietly, and I bite my lip so I don’t cry. “Love you, sweetheart.”

“Love you too, Grandma,” I whisper, and her fingers squeeze then let go.

Turning toward the door, she smiles at us over her shoulder, saying, “Let’s eat. Harlen, I want to hear all about you.”

He places his hand at the small of my back and I smile up at him and he smiles back as leads me inside the house. We head into the dining room, where there is food already on the table—a huge roast, potatoes, salad, and rolls. Harlen waits for me to sit then takes the seat next to me, while Grandma sits on the opposite side of him next to Grandpa. Looking around the table at my parents and grandparents, feeling Harlen close, I smile to myself.

“Harlen, tell me about your parents. Where do they live?” Mom asks, putting food on Dad’s plate, and my stomach, which was full of happiness and warmth only seconds ago, drops.

“Lost both my mom and dad at fifteen,” Harlen answers softly, and the table goes quiet. Everyone stops what they’re doing to look at him. Wrapping my hand around the top of his jean-covered thigh, I squeeze then feel his fingers slide down my arm and wrist before he flips my hand over, threading our fingers together.

“I’m so sorry. I had no idea,” Mom whispers, and I watch her eyes fill with sadness and pain for him.

“It was a long time ago, Sophie. I’m okay, but thank you,” he replies quietly, and my mom nods then looks away from him. I watch her pull in a deep breath as Dad wraps his hand around the back of her neck, giving her a gentle squeeze. Catching my dad’s gaze across the table, I see remorse in his eyes.

Knowing dinner will be awkward, no one knowing what to say or do if I don’t do something to get us all out from under the dark cloud that’s blanketed the table, I squeeze Harlen’s fingers. “Harlen was raised by his aunt after his parents passed away. They’re close,” I insert, and all eyes come to me. “She’ll be here at Christmas.”

“That’s nice. She will have to come over while she’s here,” Mom says, and I nod.

“I plan on asking her for permission to marry her nephew while she’s here,” I joke, and my dad’s eyes widen while Harlen’s fingers tense around mine. “What do you think she’ll say?” I look at Harlen, and he shakes his head, his lips twitching.

“Hate to burst your bubble, Angel, but no way is my woman gonna propose to me,” he murmurs, and I fight back a grin and narrow my eyes in mock annoyance.

“Is this an alpha rule?”

“Fuck yeah.”

“We’ll see.” I shrug, hearing my mom and grandma both laugh, that sound filling me with relief.

“We won’t,” Harlen disagrees, forcing me to release his hand and wrapping his fingers around my upper thigh to squeeze.

“Would you say no?” I question, and his eyes narrow.

“You’re not asking me to marry you,” he replies without answering my question.

“Would you say no?” I repeat, and his fingers dig in, in a way that makes me squirm.

“It’s not happening,” he states firmly, making my spine straighten in real annoyance.

“You can’t tell me that I can’t ask you to marry me. I can do whatever I want.”

“Fuck, are we really gonna argue about this?” he asks, and I hear my dad laugh but I don’t look at him, even though I really, really want to look at him.

“It’s a new day, a new age. Women ask men to marry them all the time,” I state matter-of-factly, having no idea if that statement is true. I have a lot of girlfriends and a lot of female cousins, and none of them have ever proposed to a man before. At least, not that I know of, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t happen.

“This argument is pointless, since that shit is not happening,” he says, pulling his eyes from mine. Looking at my mom and dad, he states, “Your daughter’s a nut.”