“What?” I asked. “What’s the return address say?”

“It says, ‘I’m busy, leave me alone’.”

“Ha ha. Seriously, who’s it from?”

Her eyes bugged wide. “An Ames Tate in Seattle.”

“No,” I said, dropping my bag on the floor. “This is my dad’s half-brother, Harper.”

She smiled and squeezed my shoulder, handing over the letter. She tucked the remaining letters into her own bag and we headed toward the subway to get to work.

As we sat, our bodies leaning into one another, I opened the letter. Excited butterflies filled my stomach and I unfolded its short contents

“Read it to me,” I said, handing it over.

She took it and began, clearing her throat.

Callum,

This feels so strange to finally be able to write you. I’ve been searching five years, since I graduated school actually. It was incredibly difficult but I finally found your records with the state and followed the homes you’d lived in. This address was the last listed in your name and I’m hoping it’s the correct one.

You probably know nothing about me but my name is Ames Tate and my brother was your father. I remember little of him but from what I do, he was a good man and so was your mother. If it means anything to you at all, they loved you more than they loved themselves. They would have and did do anything and everything to keep you happy, healthy, and safe. Even one as young as I, was able to recognize this in them. They were in love with you as were us all. You were a bright, charming boy and their love for you reflected in the way you played and loved as well.

I’m writing because I wanted you to know that you do have family who still loves you, despite the fact that we’ve never met. You’re my only family as well and I hoped that we could meet one day. I’m still single, though I’m working on that, and living in Seattle. I’ve attached a note with my address and e-mail. If you ever feel like dropping a line, please do.

Sincerely,

Ames Tate

Harper looked in my eyes, tears spilling from her own. “Oh my God, Callum. You have family.”

I squeezed her hand in mine, accidentally crumpling the letter. “I already knew that.”

She kissed my cheek and wiped away a stray tear. “Are you going to write him back?”

“Of course, I’ll e-mail him as soon as we get to work.”

“I can’t believe this. It’s so exciting, don’t you think?”

“It is, kind of. I’m a little nervous, though.”

“What for?”

“Well, I don’t remember him at all but I remember my dad a little and I’m nervous to see how much they look alike. I just don’t want to rehash buried feelings.”

Harper nodded and wrapped her slender arm around my broad shoulders. She could barely fit it across and it made me laugh. I leaned back slightly and brought my own arm around her frame, hugging her close, kissing the top of her head.

“I love you, Harper.”

“I love you, too, Callum.”

We were always telling each other that but I’m not sure it meant quite the same thing coming from her as it did when I said it. When I said it, baggage was attached. When I said it, I was really telling her that I was in love with her, that I wanted to cover her body with mine at every possible second, that, in my heart, she really was my wife, and that I had been aching to make love to her. No, not have sex with her. I wanted to make love to her, intertwine my fingers and my body with hers, drink her in and inhale every inch of her, memorize her skin.

“How long have you been married?” A woman next to me asked.

“Two years,” I said, still holding tightly to Harper. She raised her chin and smiled.

“Ah, the honeymoon phase,” the woman teased. “I have a feeling you two will always live in the honeymoon phase. You have ‘meant to be’ written all over you.”

“Thank you,” Harper said, smiling at me and laughing. Laughing because we held a secret. A secret that only she really wanted to keep.

Work was work. I got all my studying done, which was ultra nice, wrote Ames and befriended him online, read a little, helped about five thousand people find books and teased Harper. We got home around ten and we both plopped onto the sofa.

“It’s Friday, babe,” she said, poking me with her bare foot in the ribs.

“Don’t! That tickles,” I said, laughing and grabbing my side. “I know, should we see if The Ivories are playing tonight?”

“That’s a really good idea. I’m tired of staying in and I haven’t seen Cherry in a week.”

“I think Charlie will be there as well,” I stated absently.

“Good, maybe he can jump off his ‘dumb stool’ and get with the program already.”

“I know! It’s been two years already. Make a move!”

She laughed. So did I, but it wasn’t out of humor. It was out of stupidity at my own statement. I was a massive hypocrite.

Harper put on a short skirt, not too short, I made sure of that. Yeah, I’m a Neanderthal but a sane Neanderthal and that’s all I cared about. She wore her boots and a tight vintage tee. She let her hair down and it flowed to the middle of her back. As she put on her make-up, I walked by her open door to the kitchen and did a double take as she was slightly bent over. I couldn’t help myself. I came to stand behind her and watched, running my hands through her copper strands. She closed her eyes lazily and swallowed hard.

“Stop,” she said breathlessly. “You’re making me sleepy.”

I didn’t listen, just kept right on threading my fingers. She slowly tried to apply lip gloss but I could tell her arms felt heavy and a deep, exciting blast of warmth shot through my legs and pooled in my stomach knowing I had that kind of effect on her. Her eyes drooped closed as she stood, then leaned back into me.

“Keep doing that and I’ll end up spending what’s supposed to be a fun night out in that bed instead,” she said, making me close my own eyes at the unintentional double meaning. I wish.

I started to run my hands over her shoulders but wasn’t able to stop them from running along her ribs and down to her hips, squeezing the bone. She let out a little gasp, her eyes still closed, the back of head resting on my shoulder, her mouth slightly open. I stared at her mouth and wished I could kiss her again the way I’d kissed her on our wedding day. Run, I told myself.

“Alright,” I barely spit out and left the room, practically sprinting to the bathroom.

Once inside, I ran the cold water in the sink and splashed my face and neck. I stood and looked at myself in the mirror. How long are you going to be able to do this? I flushed the toilet to make it seem like I was in there for a reason rather than trying to gain some semblance of composure. I heard a knock at the front door, then Harper making her way to the living room, then opening it.

“Callum! Charlie’s here!”

“Tell him I’ll be right out!” I yelled through the door. I turned off the water, grabbed one of Harper’s ridiculous guest towels and wiped my face dry. A few drops landed on my t-shirt but it was dark and I hoped she wouldn’t notice. Charlie and Harper were laughing when I entered the living room.

“Alrighty,” I said, trying to ignore the woman standing next to my best friend, my wife. “Let’s go.”

The Ivories were amazing that night. At least, I think they were amazing. I couldn’t really concentrate because Harper was leaning against the bar top, facing the stage, talking to SO. They were just chatting. That didn’t bother me. What I cared about, was the punk on the opposite side of her that couldn’t keep his eyes to himself. Of course, Harper hadn’t noticed, too engrossed in whatever she was talking to SO about.

I stood in a dark side of the room, watching her, like a freak. A cold shiver ran up my spine with no idea why. An ominous feeling crept through my veins. Get a hold of yourself, Tate. I clenched my hands in fists and released, over and over and over, pretending to watch the stage but every five seconds my eyes gravitated back toward her. She absently placed the back heel of her right leg on the foot rest behind her, making her left leg’s muscle tense under her shifting weight and the hem of her skirt rise a tiny bit. I wanted to fall on my knees in front of her and worship those legs.

The punk’s eyes shifted to her thigh and I had to physically restrain myself from running over there and punching him in the face. Then he did the unspeakable. He turned toward her and tapped her shoulder. SO didn’t notice and I wanted to yell at him to intervene. She turned toward him with a sweet smile on her face. ‘Yes?’ She mouthed. He said something to her and she laughed, sending a jealous, coursing storm through my veins. He shifted closer to her and I made a move to break it up but she moved back from his invitation and into SO. I breathed a sigh of relief knowing SO would now intervene but a young blonde across the room had caught his attention and he was entranced.

Harper shook her head back and forth with the same smile still plastered across her face. She raised her left hand and showed him her ring. ‘Married’. She mouthed again. Ugh! Good girl! I felt my heart start to slow a little bit but pick right back up to ridiculous speed when the guy shoved her hand away and tried to push himself into her by her hip.

I’d had enough. I started shoving people as I made my way across the room to the bar. A few people shoved back but I didn’t care. They could follow me if they wanted to do something about it. SO had left the counter to talk to that girl, not noticing Harper’s predicament. By the time I reached her, Harper was frantically pawing at the guy to get him off of her.

“Stop!” I heard her yell.

Finally, I was within reach so I grabbed the guy and shoved him back.

“Didn’t you hear my wife?” I asked him. “She told you to stop.”

Harper was wiping tears from her cheeks when she sidled up closely to me. I wrapped an arm around her waist.

“Sorry, dude,” the guy said, throwing his hands in the air. He was drunk and could barely stand. He immediately noticed another girl he fancied and made his way over to her.

“What an idiot,” she said laughing, trying to make light of the situation.

“He was drunk,” I offered. “That was the only thing that prevented me from shoving him to the ground.” I thought twice and remembered how scared her face looked. I began to charge him again.

“Don’t,” Harper said, flustered and pushing me back a little. “It’s not worth it. Come dance with me.”

All anger dissipated at the look on her face. “Alright,” I said, cupping her cheeks and bending to kiss her forehead. We made it to the middle of the floor where the crowd watched Freddy sing one of their most popular songs. They were jumping and singing along, sweaty and red faced but happy. Harper and I sang along, jumping with the crowd. The floor was tight and Harper and I often bumped into one another. Her body was warm and soft and made me want to pick her up and wrap her legs around my hips in a searing kiss. I shook my head at the thought and found her staring at me, a mischievous twinkle in her eye, like she read every thought I’d just had. My face blushed furiously.