Page 39 of Singled Out
“No.” She squeezed my arm. “No. Absolutely not. But aside from that, if that had to happen, he lucked out that your cousin made you Danny’s guardian.”
“It’s such a coincidence,” I said, my voice going hoarse with emotion. “Jamie and I were as close as brothers growing up. One reason we were so tight is that we bonded over our asshole fathers. Both of them deserted our families. Both of them pretty much forgot their kids existed.”
“Wow. That sucks. How old were you when your dad left?”
“I was thirteen. Jamie’s dad left a few years before that.”
Frowning, she asked, “Where’s your dad now? Is he still alive?”
I shrugged. “Last I knew he was living in Arizona, married to wife number four. I heard that from my mother. I don’t keep in touch with him.”
“And Jamie’s dad?”
“He’s in Memphis. He came to Jamie’s funeral, but I didn’t talk to him. Didn’t have anything to say to him.”
“That’s rough,” she said after a few quiet seconds.
“Jamie and I swore we’d be much better fathers. And he was.” My voice cracked. I fought to get myself back under control. “He was so dedicated to Danny.”
“And he knew you would be too.”
I nodded, unable to get any words out.
“That’s a lot of pressure,” Harper said quietly. “You care so much. You’re already leagues ahead of both your dad and Jamie’s.”
I grunted.
“You nearly lost your mind over Danny having a dirty diaper,” she said pointedly.
“That wasn’t the issue, and you know it. The issue was that I was out cavorting in the lake with you when Danny needed me.”
She laughed. “Cavorting?”
I might have cracked a little smile at her tone of disbelief.
“We were sitting in shallow water talking for most of that time,” she said. “I’m not sure I’ve ever cavorted in my life.”
“You were definitely cavorting.” My smile grew along with my relief at the lighter subject. Latching onto the break in seriousness, I turned my attention to the tray of magenta stones. “What are you doing here with these stones?”
“Looking for my next project.” Harper hopped down off the table, walked around it, and opened the locker she’d taken the bin out of earlier. She drew out another box, set it on the table, and removed the lid. She lifted out a tray that contained several pieces of jewelry—a deep purple teardrop-shaped pendant, a pair of smaller round earrings with light-blue-and-white patterned stones, a necklace with three triangular black stones spaced out along a silver chain. More earrings—some with clusters of smaller stones, some with single larger stones, all the pieces artfully set in silver.
“Did you make these?” I asked in a little bit of awe.
She pulled another tray out with more than a dozen rings in it, in similar styles, with colored stones set in silver. “I did. I kind of have an addiction to gemstones.”
I picked up a ring with five different-sized circular stones in deep blue, turquoise, and a translucent white.
“That’s lapis, kyanite, turquoise, chrysocolla, and moonstone,” she said.
“It’s stunning. So this is what you use the studio for? You make jewelry?”
“I dabble in a lot of mediums.” She laughed. “I’ve dabbled in nearly all the mediums.”
“Is jewelry your favorite?” I asked as I picked up a large, irregular-shaped pendant with a reddish-orange-and-white striated stone.
Harper bit her lip as she watched me run my finger over the smooth stone. “It is,” she said hesitantly.
That she’d committed now as she hadn’t been able to last night in the car didn’t escape me.