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Me: Why? Has something happened? Where are you?
Henry: Home. I had an argument with Philip. It ended badly.
Me: Oh no, Henry.
Henry: Ah, it’s done. It’s just sad. All endings are sad, aren’t they?
Me: They are.
Henry: I wasn’t implying anything with that or trying to force your hand.
Me: I know.
Henry: How are you doing?
Me: I have a headache, and it’s been a rotten, awful day.
Henry: I’m sorry.
Me: But soon it’ll be tomorrow, and tomorrow is another day, right?
Henry: Yeah.
I hear movement outside, and someone tries the door handle.
“Honey, I’m sorry about what Pete said,” Cam calls out. “Come on, don’t turn it into a big thing.”
“I’m on the toilet,” I call back. “Give me a minute.”
His footsteps walk away.
I look back at my phone.
Me: I’ve got to go. I just wanted to say thank you for the message, and please, hang in there. I’m nearly done.
Henry: Ah, baby.
Me: I love you.
Henry: I love you too.
Me: See you soon.
I turn my phone off, and slide it back into my jeans.
*
True to form, we watch a movie—some action flick that takes no brain power at all—while we eat our turkey sandwiches. Afterward, the guys decide they want to play another PlayStation game.
I say that my headache is quite bad, and I’m going to bed. Nobody—least of all Cam—bats an eyelid.
Actually, I do have a headache, and I am quite tired. I take off my makeup, get into bed, and fall asleep quickly.
I jerk awake when the bedroom door opens. I don’t move, though, but lie with my eyes closed, listening.
Cam has slept in our spare room for the last three nights. That’s not possible tonight because all the spare rooms are taken in this house, so we have to share a bed. I didn’t tell Henry that.
I lie still, waiting. I can’t hear him moving about, though. Like most guys, he normally bangs about opening cupboards and drawers, even though he thinks he’s being quiet.
