Chapter 23 THE APOLOGY
Harper spent a restless night in what used to be her aunt's office at the Adriatic, curled up on an ancient leather couch that smelled like dust and memories. The construction noise started at seven in the morning, jarring her awake with the sound of power tools and shouted instructions.
She checked her phone. Five missed calls from Sebastian. Three text messages.
The first: "I'm sorry. Please come home so we can talk."
The second: "I know I messed up. Just tell me you're safe."
The third, sent at two in the morning: "You're right about everything. I'll do better. I promise."
Harper stared at the messages, feeling the familiar pull between wanting to forgive him and knowing she needed to stand her ground. She had spent too many years making herself smaller to accommodate other people's insecurities. She would not do it again, even for Sebastian.
Especially for Sebastian, if this thing between them was going to be real.
She texted back: "I'm fine. At the Adriatic. I need to think today."
The response came within seconds: "Okay. Take the time you need. But Harper, please know that I'm sorry."
She did not respond. Instead, she dragged herself to the renovated second floor bathroom, washed her face with cold water, and tried to focus on work. The electrical contractor needed to sign off on the panel upgrades. The title debate still was not fully resolved. She had a meeting with the window restoration specialist at noon.
Normal things. Manageable things. Things that did not involve contract marriages and jealous husbands and feelings she did not know how to process.
By four in the afternoon, Harper was reviewing paint samples in the lobby when she heard footsteps behind her.
"The cream is too yellow," Sebastian's voice said. "The one on the left is closer to the original color."
Harper turned to find him standing in the doorway, still in his work clothes but looking rumpled and uncertain. He was carrying two large paper bags that smelled incredibly good.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, trying to keep her voice neutral.
"Bringing peace offerings." He held up the bags. "Thai food from that place you love. The one with the papaya salad you claim is life changing."
Despite herself, Harper felt her resolve waver slightly. She was starving, having skipped both breakfast and lunch in favor of throwing herself into renovation decisions.
"You cannot just show up with food and expect everything to be fine," she said.
"I know. But I figured you have not eaten, and we both think better when we are not running on caffeine and spite." He set the bags down on the temporary work table the crew had set up. "I am not asking you to forgive me. I am just asking you to eat something while I grovel properly."
Harper wanted to stay angry. She had spent the entire day building up her righteous indignation, reminding herself why Sebastian's behavior was unacceptable. But he looked so genuinely contrite, and the food smelled so good, and she was so tired of feeling miserable.
"Fine," she said. "But I am still mad at you."
"You should be. I was an ass." Sebastian started unpacking containers. "I got extra spring rolls because I know you pretend you do not want them and then eat half of mine."
He had remembered. Of course he had. Sebastian paid attention to everything, which was part of what made his jealousy so frustrating. He knew her well enough to understand she was not interested in James Hartwell, but his own insecurities had overridden his logic.
They sat on the floor of the lobby, because the furniture would not arrive for another three weeks, and ate straight from the containers. For a few minutes, neither of them spoke. Harper focused on her pad thai, trying to organize her thoughts into something coherent.
"I talked to my therapist this afternoon," Sebastian said finally.
Harper looked up, surprised. "You have a therapist?"
"I started seeing her about six months ago. Claire insisted after my father died." He stabbed at his food. "I told her what happened. About James Hartwell, about the fight, about how I acted like a controlling jackass."
"And what did she say?"
"That I have abandonment issues stemming from my father's emotional unavailability and my mother's passive approach to parenting. That I conflate love with possession because I never learned healthy attachment. And that I am terrified of losing you because you are the first person in years who has made me feel something real." He set down his fork. "Also that I need to learn the difference between protecting someone and controlling them."
Harper felt her anger soften further. The fact that Sebastian had actually gone to therapy, had talked about their fight, had admitted his issues out loud, meant something. David had always refused therapy, claiming their problems were her fault, not his.
"I am scared too," Harper said quietly. "This whole thing terrifies me. But Sebastian, you cannot let your fear turn into controlling behavior. That is not fair to either of us."
"I know. And I am sorry." He turned to face her fully. "I was out of line about the tile. About questioning your meeting with Hartwell. About all of it. The Adriatic is yours, and you have every right to explore management options without running them past me first."
"I was going to tell you about Hartwell. I just wanted to have more information before we discussed it."
"You do not owe me that explanation. You do not owe me anything beyond what is in the contract." Sebastian paused. "But I would like us to be more than what is in the contract. If you are willing."
Harper took a spring roll, buying time. "What does that look like? Being more than the contract?"
"I do not know. I have never done this before." He ran a hand through his hair, a gesture Harper had come to recognize as nervousness. "But I know I want to try. I want to be the person who trusts you completely. Who supports your decisions even when they scare me. Who does not let his own damage spill over onto you."
"That is a nice speech."
"But you do not believe me."
"I want to believe you. But Sebastian, this is not the first time you have made decisions about the Adriatic without consulting me. The tile thing, approving the lighting fixtures last month, changing the timeline on the east wing renovation. You keep doing it, and then apologizing, and then doing it again."
Sebastian winced. "You are right. I fall back on old patterns when I am stressed. I have spent ten years as CEO, making unilateral decisions, and I forget that this is not Colton Industries. This is your project."
"It is not just about the project. It is about respecting me as an equal partner." Harper set down her food. "In the contract, in the marriage, in whatever this is becoming. I need to know that you see me as someone capable of making my own choices."
"I do see you that way. Harper, you are the most capable person I know. You are brilliant and creative and you fight for what matters to you. That is what attracted me to you in the first place."
"Then why do you keep trying to manage me?"
Sebastian was quiet for a long moment. "Because caring about you is terrifying. When I only cared about business, about deals and profit margins, I was in control. But you make me feel things I cannot control, and that scares the hell out of me. So I fall back on what I know, trying to manage the situation, trying to predict every variable and eliminate every risk."
"But I am not a business deal."
"No, you are not. You are so much more important than any deal I have ever made." He reached out slowly, giving her time to pull away. When she did not, he took her hand. "I am sorry for treating you like something to be managed instead of someone to be trusted. I am sorry for letting my jealousy override my judgment. And I am sorry for making you feel like you had to defend yourself for having a professional conversation."
Harper felt tears prick her eyes. "I do not want to fight with you."
"I do not want to fight with you either. But Harper, if we are going to do this, to try to make this real, you need to call me out when I am being controlled. Do not let me get away with it just to keep the peace."
"I will not. I did that with David, and I am not doing it again." She squeezed his hand. "But you need to actually work on trusting me. Not just say you will, but actually do the work. Go to therapy. Examine why you default to control. Figure out how to be in a relationship where you are not always trying to manage the outcome."
"I will. I promise." Sebastian pulled her closer, until they were sitting side by side against the wall. "I want this to work, Harper. Whatever this is, I want to figure it out with you."
Harper leaned her head on his shoulder, breathing in the familiar scent of his cologne mixed with sawdust and paint fumes. "I want that too. But Sebastian, we need to talk about what happens in nine months."
"What do you mean?"
"The contract. The end date. We cannot keep pretending it does not exist." She felt him tense beside her. "If we are going to be real with each other, we need to acknowledge that we have an expiration date hanging over us."
Sebastian was quiet for so long that Harper thought he might not answer. When he finally spoke, his voice was rough. "What if we did not?"
"Did not what?"
"Have an expiration date. What if we extended the contract? Or just tore it up entirely and started over?"
Harper's heart stuttered. "Are you saying what I think you are saying?"
"I am saying that somewhere in the last three months, this stopped being a business arrangement for me. I do not know exactly when it happened. Maybe when you fell asleep on my shoulder during that terrible movie Claire made us watch. Maybe when you gave me hell for the tile decision. Maybe the first time I saw you laugh in the sunlight at Pike Place Market." He turned to look at her. "But it happened, Harper. And now I cannot imagine going back to a life where you are not in it."
Harper felt tears spill over. "You cannot just say things like that."
"Why not?"
"Because it makes it really hard to stay mad at you."
Sebastian smiled, that rare genuine smile that transformed his entire face. "Good. That was the plan."
"You are impossible."
"I am aware." He kissed her forehead, soft and sweet. "So what do you say? Can we table the end date discussion for now and just focus on figuring out how to be together without me being a controlling ass?"
"I guess that is reasonable." Harper wiped her eyes. "But Sebastian, if you make another decision about the Adriatic without consulting me, I am moving out for real. And I will not come back for Thai food."
"Understood. No unilateral decisions. Full transparency. Complete trust." He pulled her closer. "I can do that."
"Can you really?"
"I am going to try. And when I fail, because I probably will sometimes, you are going to call me out on it. And I am going to apologize and do better. That is how this works, right? We both show up and try to forgive each other when we mess up?"
Harper nodded against his shoulder. "That is how it is supposed to work. I am just not very good at it."
"Neither am I. But maybe we can figure it out together." Sebastian was quiet for a moment. "For what it is worth, I called James Hartwell this morning and apologized for being short with him on the phone. Tell him you would be in touch if you decide to pursue his services."
Harper pulled back to look at him. "You did?"
"I did. Because you are right. He is a legitimate businessman, and if Hartwell Hospitality is the best option for the Adriatic, then you should explore it. My jealousy does not get to make that decision."
"That must have killed you."
"It was not my favorite phone call." Sebastian smiled wryly. "But my therapist says I need to practice tolerating discomfort. Apparently, not everything in life can be controlled and managed."
"Your therapist sounds smart."
"She is. She also said I should probably bring you flowers, but I figured Thai food was more your style."
Harper laughed, and it felt good after the heaviness of the last twenty four hours. "You were right. Though I would not say no to flowers occasionally."
"Noted. I will add it to the list of things I need to learn about being in an actual relationship."
They finished eating in comfortable silence, passing containers back and forth, and Harper felt the tightness in her chest finally ease. They were not fixed. One apology and some Thai food did not erase the underlying issues. But it was a start.
"Come home tonight," Sebastian said as they packed up the empty containers. "Please. The penthouse feels wrong without you."
Harper hesitated. Part of her wanted to make him wait, to prove a point about not being easily won over. But a large part of her just wanted to sleep in their bed, to wake up to him bringing her coffee, to stop pretending she was fine spending nights on a dusty couch.
"Okay," she said. "But I am sleeping in my own room tonight. We are not just jumping back to normal."
"Fair enough. Take all the space you need." He stood and offered her his hand. "Though for the record, I sleep better when you are there."
"That is not my problem."
"I know. But I wanted you to know anyway." He pulled her to her feet. "Come on. Let us get you home."
As they walked to their separate cars, Sebastian caught her hand one more time. "Harper?"
"Yeah?"
"Thank you for giving me another chance. I know I do not deserve it."
"You do not," Harper agreed. "But I am giving it to you anyway. Do not make me regret it."
"I will not. Or at least, I will try my absolute hardest not to."
Harper drove back to the penthouse with her windows down, letting the cool Seattle evening air clear her head. They had a long way to go. Sebastian had patterns to break and trust to build. She had her own issues to work through, her tendency to expect the worst, to wait for abandonment, to protect herself by keeping one foot out the door.
But maybe that was okay. Maybe relationships were not supposed to be easy or perfect or completely figured out. Maybe they were supposed to be messy and complicated and full of apologies and second chances.
As she pulled into the parking garage, Harper saw Sebastian's car already there. He was waiting by the elevator, holding her overnight bag that she had left behind in her hurry to leave.
"Thought you might need this," he said.
"Thanks." She took the bag, and they rode the elevator up in silence.
At the penthouse door, Sebastian hesitated. "Separate rooms tonight. I remember. But Harper?"
"Yeah?"
"I am really glad you came home."
Harper stood on her toes and kissed him, brief and soft. "Me too."
She went to her own room and closed the door, but for the first time since moving in, it did not feel like a retreat. It felt like a choice. And tomorrow, maybe, if they kept showing up and trying and forgiving each other's mistakes, it might feel like something even better.
It might feel like love.