You know that's not what I mean. Thankfully, Harlan wasn't an expressive person or he would have divulged how untrue he thought that statement to be. The thing was, he had absolutely no idea what she meant most of the time. Now especially. And maybe that was the problem. He tried not to dwell on that fact and instead ran his hand distractedly over the fabric of his pants, catching out of his peripheral his niece's toes flexing in her sleep.
He yearned to go back to what they had before—whatever that had been, in all of its varied forms— but it wasn't possible, that much he knew. They'd gone too far down some proverbial path to just flip a switch now.
"Do you think that?" Harlan asked, uncharacteristically unsure, only catching her eye a moment after asking the question, did she think he was cheating on her?
"It's not true," Harlan began, sitting up more straight on the arm of the chair now. "That's why I'm ignoring it," He knew it wasn't that simple, and it would never be that simple, but somehow he imagined that if he wanted it enough, it could be. It wouldn't have been a stretch, of course, given his track record. Sometimes even he questioned his own intentions. Honey's uncertainty was justifiable, and then some, but it still left him feeling moderately defensive.
It had taken more than a decade in the industry for Harlan to brush off rumors, and even still, it wasn't a constant. He touched a hand to the baby's foot distractedly before looking back to Honey, more seriously.
"I'm not," He began. "Cheating on you," He clarified. It went against everything that he swore he would never become— like his father.
"Can still get out, while you want," Harlan added, softly, repeating his joking sentiment from moments ago. It was important for him, in some way, to ensure he'd given her every opportunity. In the back of his mind, he knew he was safeguarding himself, an indication of how little he trusted his own willpower. He imagined that kind of thing, no matter how hard he fought it, was hereditary.
