Fangs, Fate & Other Bad Decisions novel Chapter 122

I’ve got Harley’s hand in mine, and I’m leading her out of the penthouse and toward my private elevator, I can feel the weight of nut conversations still hanging between us like a thick fog, but it’s different now. There’s a new understanding between us, unspoken yet clear–she’s not running. Not yet. And neither am L.

A few seconds later, we step out of the elevator and onto my private rooftop terrace, the doors silently sliding closed behind us, and I’m almost surprised by the way the space feels…welcoming. It’s open and expansive, with a sprawling, almost 360 view of the city below, and it’s currently bathed in the soft hues of the fading sun.

There’s a comfortable seating area off to the right, featuring plush cushions and tufted sofas beneath a glass–roofed pergola that invites you to relax. Copious amounts of string lights hang from above, their soft glow casting a warm ambiance throughout the space.

The plants scattered all over also catch my attention. Lush greenery stretches around the terrace, climbing up trellises and hanging in baskets, The space is tranquil, almost untouched, despite the fact that I’ve spent far too much time in this apartment and barely glanced at it. I’ve ne truly used it, or more accurately, I never truly allowed myself to enjoy it. Not like this.

Harley, though? Her eyes instantly light up when she steps out onto the terrace. She walks forward without waiting to see if I’ll follow, taking in her surroundings. Her gaze roams over the vibrant plants, the lights, and the open space, as she smiles. All the while, her expression is a mix of tawe and appreciation, and it causes me to feel a strange pull in my chest.

This is beautiful, she r murmurs as she takes another step forward and her fingers brush lightly over a hanging fern. Her voice is soft, and I realize I haven’t seen her this genuinely relaxed, except for when she was shelving her books in the library earlier. It’s as if the weight of the world seems to lift off her shoulders in the comfort of this space.

“I’m glad you like it,” I say quietly, as I watch her closely. “You can do whatever you want with it. This is your place, too, Harley. It’s yours to shape, to make whatever you need it to be,”

Her eyes flick back to me, and there’s a hint of surprise that sparks in them as she processes my words. I don’t know why I’m offering it, why I’m giving her this piece of my life, but it feels right. It feels like something I need to do–like a promise to her that I can’t keep her in a cage, no matter how much my instincts screate otherwise.

She tilts her head and her lips curl up at the corners as she says, “I don’t think I’ll do much to it. But thank you. For letting me know it’s here.”

I step towards the seating area and offer her a seat in one of the plush chairs, two wine glasses, and a bottle of wine already set on the small side table beside it. I pour the rich red wine that I asked Griffin earlier to bring up here, into the two glasses, and hand one to her as I settle into the seat next to her. The silence between us that follows as we sip our wine feels comfortable, like we’ve both been given permission to just exist in the moment, with no expectations and no pressure.

Verify captcha to read the contentVerify