More Than Anything (Broken Pieces 1)

The silence stretched on, oddly comfortable as she listened to him sip and sigh his way through his coffee. Five minutes passed without another word between them, the sun climbing steadily in the blush-tinged sky, promising a beautiful day ahead.

“Maybe Knysna,” she murmured, breaking the silence, and she felt his gaze turn to her profile. He didn’t prompt her, just waited patiently for her to continue. She took another fortifying sip of her now-cold coffee before adding, “For the mattress. I think Knysna’s your best bet.”

“Yeah? Thanks, I’ll drive out that way later.”

A movement on his left caught her attention, and her gaze shifted to his front door, where Greyson stepped onto the porch.

She leaped to her feet and glared at the man furiously.

“What the hell are you doing here?” she asked angrily before shifting her gaze to Harris. “What’s he doing here?”

“He needed a place to stay,” Harris said levelly.

“Good morning, Martine,” Greyson said coolly—like her family, he always called her by her full name. Pompous ass.

“And you’re letting him stay with you?” Tina asked incredulously, ignoring the other man. “After everything he’s accused you of? After what he did to Libby and Clara?”

Greyson went rigid, but she continued to ignore him, her glare fixed on Harris’s face.

“He’s my brother,” Harris muttered defensively. “You can’t hold that against me, Tina.”

“Trust me—that’s the least of the things that I hold against you, Harris,” she promised him acidly, and he pushed to his feet to tower above her.

“For God’s sake—” he began, but she held up a hand and, still pointedly ignoring Greyson, swept through her front door, slamming it behind her with a satisfying bang.

She was so dumb, allowing herself to briefly soften toward him. So the silence between them had been comfortable and companionable—so what? It didn’t mean they were friends, didn’t mean they could ever be more than what they were. And seriously, how could he let Greyson stay with him? If the man had no place to stay, then maybe he’d leave sooner, maybe they’d both leave sooner. That would be best all round.

She didn’t know what either man hoped to achieve here . . . but the longer they stuck around, the more likely this entire situation would end in heartbreak for Libby. And Tina.

She had to acknowledge that she wasn’t as immune to Harris as she’d like to be. He’d been her first and only lover. And while the experience had been less than ideal, it had still meant something. She had once considered him important enough to allow him that privilege, and while she would never—could never—feel that level of infatuation toward him again, the anger, hatred, and residual desire she felt for him could result in some confusing and complicated emotions.

One of the many reasons she’d avoided him so determinedly in the past.

She blinked back angry tears, not sure why she felt like crying. It was stupid . . . she was stupid. She had bigger concerns right now than Harrison Chapman and his irritating brother, but still it was very hard to keep unhappy memories at bay when he was living right next door. Technically in the same house as her.

When she got to her bedroom, her laptop caught her eye, and a surge of nausea hit her as the vultures returned with a vengeance. She was pressing one hand to her stomach and the other to the dresser as she doubled over when a massive wave of panic nearly sent her to her knees.

Breathe.

She focused on that. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Slow and steady. Until she forced the nausea back.

She would have to face up to her responsibility eventually, would have to crunch those numbers and see how deep in the hole she was. Logic told her that one night could not have sunk her business completely. Not yet. But more of the same . . . and it wouldn’t last. Not a year, maybe not even six months.

More nausea.

In: nose. Out: mouth. Calm down.

She could do this. She had overcome worse . . . so much worse in her lifetime. This was a piece of cake.

She just wished it didn’t mean so much.

After a quick trip to Knysna to buy a new bed, bedding, and a state-of-the-art microwave, Harris decided to stop at MJ’s for lunch. His first impression was overwhelmingly positive. The place was welcoming and cozy and reminded him of Tina’s lovely flat in Bantry Bay. But, after his initial surge of pride at what she had accomplished, he sat down and surveyed the sparse lunchtime crowd. He accepted the menu from a cheerful server whose discreet name tag identified her as Suzie and continued to sweep his eyes around the place. There were about ten people scattered around the empty room. Some sat in pairs, and a few were alone and tapping away on laptops or with their eyes glued to their phones.