Chapter 158: Chapter 158

I can’t help but feel a little awkward around him now that I have a deeper insight into who he was all those years ago.“Yeah. It’s a nice setup you’ve got out here.” Hardin does his best to praise his father. I put my hand on his back and rub small circles to ease him.

Hardin’s grandmother coughs and looks at his father. “I didn’t know that you two were speaking.”

Ken rubs the back of his neck, a habit that I suspect Hardin got from him.

“Yeah. Let’s talk about this another time, Mother,” Ken says and she nods in agreement.

I take another drink out of my glass and try not to dwell on the fact that I am drinking underage in front of adults. In front of the chancellor of my school.

A waiter in a black vest walks by with a tray of champagne, and when Ken grabs a flute I cringe. But he hands the glass to his new bride and I relax, extremely glad to see that he isn’t drinking.

“Want another?” Hardin asks me and I look at Karen.

“Go ahead, it’s a wedding,” she tells me and I smile.

“Sure,” I say and Hardin leaves to get me another glass.

We talk about the wedding and the flowers for a minute, and when Hardin comes back with only one flute, Karen gets concerned and asks him, “You don’t like the champagne?”

“Oh yeah, it’s good, but I already had a glass and I’m driving,” he replies, and Karen looks at him with adoration clear in her brown eyes.

She turns to me. “Do you have time to come by this week? I ordered some seeds for the greenhouse.”

“Yes, of course. I am free anytime after four all week,” I say.

The pleased yet astonished look on Gammy’s face is obvious as she looks back and forth between Karen and me. “So how long have you two been seeing one another?” she asks Hardin and me.

“A few months,” Hardin tells her quietly.

Sometimes I forget that no one outside of our—well, Hardin’s—group of friends knows that we despised each other up until two months ago.

“Oh, so no great-grandchildren for me anytime soon?” She laughs and Hardin’s face flushes.

“No, no. We’ve only just moved in together,” Hardin says, and Karen and I both spit champagne back into our glasses at the same time.

“You two moved in together?” Ken asks.

I had not expected Hardin to tell them today. Heck, I hadn’t even been sure he would tell them at all, given how he is. I am shocked and a little embarrassed at my reaction, but mostly pleased that he has no problem admitting it.

“Yeah, we moved into Artisan a few days ago,” he explains.

“Wow, that’s a nice place, and closer to Tessa’s internship,” Ken remarks.

“Yeah,” Hardin says, clearly trying to measure how everyone feels about our bombshell.

“Well, I am very happy for you, son.” He places his hand on his son’s shoulder and I watch with a neutral expression. “I never imagined you would be this happy and so . . . at peace.”

“Thank you,” Hardin says and actually smiles.

“Maybe we could come by sometime and see it?” Ken asks, and Karen’s eyes lower.

“Ken . . .” she warns, clearly remembering the time Ken pushed Hardin too far, as am I.

“Uh, yeah, I guess you could,” Hardin says, surprising us all.

“Really?” Ken asks and Hardin nods. “Okay, just let us know when is good for the two of you.” His eyes are slightly glossy.

Music begins to play through the tent and Karen grabs Ken’s arm. “That’s our cue—thank you both so much for coming,” she says and leans in to kiss my cheek.

“You have done so much for this family, you have no idea,” she whispers in my ear before pulling away, tears shining in her eyes.

“Time for the bride and groom’s first dance!” a voice announces through the speakers. Hardin’s grandmother walks away as well, following the crowd to watch.

“You just made their day,” I tell Hardin and kiss his cheek.

“Let’s go upstairs,” he says.

“What?” My head is a little fuzzy from the two glasses of champagne I just finished.

“Upstairs,” he repeats, sending that familiar electricity through me.

“Now?” I laugh.

“Now.”

“But all these people . . .”

He doesn’t respond; instead he takes my hand and leads me through the crowd and out of the tent. When we get inside the house, he grabs me another glass of champagne, and I try not to let it spill as I rush up the stairs to keep up with him.

“Is something wrong?” I ask him as he shuts the bedroom door and locks it.

“I need you,” he says darkly and pulls his jacket off.

“Are you okay, though?” I ask, my heart already beating out of my chest.

“Yes, I just need a distraction,” he groans and steps toward me, grabbing the glass and setting it on the dresser. He takes another step, encircling my wrists in his hands and then lifting them over my head.

I will gladly be his distraction from the overload of everything downstairs—seeing his grandmother for the first time in years, watching his father get remarried, agreeing to let them come to our apartment. That is a lot for Hardin in such a short period of time.

Instead of asking him any questions or pushing him further, I grab him by the collar of his shirt and push my hips out to meet his. He’s already hard. Groaning, he lets go of my wrists, allowing me to comb my fingers through his hair. When his mouth moves over mine, his tongue is hot and sweet with the lingering taste of champagne. Within seconds he is reaching into his pocket and pulling out a foil packet.