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“Henrik.” My voice quivers, and the pain in my chest is so, so real. He holds my hand, and I breathe in and out, trying to contain the ball lodged in my throat. “I’m a mess. Ilovehim.”
“He’ll come back.”
“You don’t know that.” I will myself to believe him.
“Gia told me he asked you to move in. He’ll come back, Gemma. You made him uncomfortable, and it probably feels like a betrayal.”
Oh, Gia. Why would you tell Hen that?
“Yeah,” I whisper, “no doubt about that.” I clear my throat. “How’s Harvey doing? I feel bad. I was really mean to Claire on Saturday.”
“I don’t know how I’m supposed to like her when my loyalty lies with you.” He hands me back the blunt, and I happily let every drag push me further away from reality.
“Your loyalties should be with Harv. Always.”
Something crosses his eyes. “He asked for a job at the tattoo parlor he used to work at. They said yes, and they’ll make arrangements for him. He’s starting off a few hours a day, so he’ll be doing smaller tattoos and piercings.”
“Claire,” I whisper, shaking my head with a chuckle. “She’s good for him, Henrik. If you need a reason, like her for that.”
After hours of playing cards and smoking, I’m high out of my mind. We ordered a large pizza, and I called Damon, then hung up, unable to stop laughing.
I sigh loudly, smiling at Henrik. “This feels soooo good.”
The next thing I know, Damon’s name pops up on my phone. Hen smacks my hand away and presses a finger to his lips before he accepts the call.
“What’s up?” Henrik asks Damon, and I try to coax him to hand over my phone.
“She can’t talk right now.” I envy how normal Henrik acts when he’s high, because he’s built up a tolerance to it. “Chill, she’s just stoned.”
Henrik hangs up, and I smack his arm. “Hen, I wanted to talk to him!” I grab another slice of pizza, a random chuckle leaving my mouth. If one thing can return my hunger, it’s the weed.
“Trust me.”
I narrow my eyes at him, but not even twenty minutes later, someone’s at the door, knocking loudly. I’m laughing as I bang my arm on the wall while I walk there.
I smoked wayyy too much.
Hen puts on his coat as I let Damon in. “Where are you going?” I turn to Henrik. “You can’t drive, Hen.”
“I’ll be fine.”
I shake my head.
“My driver will drive you. Text him tomorrow. He can pick you up to get your car. He’s right up front,” Damon tells Henrik.
Damon’s jaw clenches when he notices me in my long tee, showing off my bare legs, before his eyes darken as he stares at Harvey’s brother.
I signal Joey, waving my hands in the air before Joey gets the hint and opens the door to the back seat for Hen.
When I turn back around, Damon places his hand on the door above my head, after shutting it.
I laugh.
It feels soliberating.I’m free.
Free of pain.
Free of sorrows.
