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Lucy
Hey, I’m sorry, but I can’t today. I’m staying in to grade papers.
I hate lying to anyone. It gives me a pit in my stomach but I can’t very well tell him the real reason I want to stay home.
Dressed in lounge pants and an oversized sweatshirt, I make my way to the kitchen and grab a glass of water before heading to my final destination for the day, my couch. An uneventful Sunday is just what I need. Maybe I’ll order takeout later so I don’t have to run to the grocery store.
When I queue up my favorite streaming service, the first movie in my Watch Again category isPersuasion, which Henry directed. I have seen the movie so many times before and this might be the longest I have gone between views.
I push the play button and tell myself this has nothing to do with Henry.
Sure.
Just as I’m watching Mary tell Anne that Captain Wentworth said Anne looked so old since he last saw her, he barely recognized her, the doorbell buzzer rings. It must be a takeout delivery for one of the neighbors—they always ring the wrong apartment.
Not wanting to leave the warmth of my soft blanket, I keep it wrapped around my body as I wobble to the intercom.
“Hello?” I say, waiting for the delivery person to reply.
“Lucy, it’s Henry. I have coffee.” I freeze in place, still clutching the blanket around me. He continues, “I would like to come up and speak with you.”
“Okay,” I say as I push the button to unlock the main door then I bolt to my bedroom to change as quickly aspossible. Thankfully, I never got around to putting away my clean laundry and am able to frantically pull on a pair of jeans and decide to leave the sweatshirt on. In front of my mirror, I quickly pull the bun out of my hair and race against time to brush it out. I have just enough time to put makeup under my eyes to conceal my dark circles from the night before and a little mascara before he knocks on my door.
Two quick spritzes of perfume and a last check in the mirror, “Good enough.”
I open the door and immediately realize my appearance is not good enough. Henry looks like a model. All black from head to toe with a fitted winter jacket over his athletic pants and a solid black ball cap. It’s as if each time I see him now, he looks like he just walked off a magazine photoshoot. In his right hand, he has a carrier with three drinks, and on the left, some newspapers and magazines are folded under his arm.
“Hi, welcome,” I say as I move out of the doorway for him to enter my apartment. He looks around with a soft smile on his lips until his eyes land on my TV.
I forgot to turn off the movie. Great, as if I wasn’t flustered enough by his unexpected visit, now I can add embarrassment to the list.
Henry’s smile grows slowly as he turns to me. I can feel the heat rising from my neck into my cheeks. I walk over to find the remote that was hidden well under my blanket when I threw it in haste earlier and immediately turned it off.
Desperate to change the subject. I ask, “Is everythingall right?” It is extremely odd that he is showing up at my apartment.
“You don’t know yet?” he asks, still holding everything in his hands.
“Don’t know what?” I move toward him and extend my arm. “Would you like to put the drinks down? Or perhaps help carrying your reading materials?”
“Yes, of course. My apologies.” He lets me grab the drink holder out of his hands but holds the folded papers close to his chest.
“Are we expecting someone else?” I ask, pointing to the three drinks.
“Oh, no. I didn’t know what you would want so I asked Beth to make your typical order. She handed me a hot chocolate and a cold brew coffee and said to trust her.”
Before I can stop myself, an awkward joke leaves my mouth. “In Beth, we trust!”
He smiles. Butterflies start to dance in my stomach, but thankfully, my brain quickly shuts them down. He must be bringing bad news to bring me drinks to my apartment. I put my iced coffee in the fridge for later and then carry our drinks into the living room.
“Would you like to sit, and then you can give me the bad news.” I move to my couch, expecting him to sit on the larger one next to it, but he sits next to me instead.
Before he can say anything, both of our phones buzz with text messages. We pull them out to check, and we have a new message in the group chat.
Finn
Lucy, are YOU our new mom???
Multiple photos of Henry and me from last night pop up under Finn’s text. One with the title “Who is Henry Brooks’s newest leading lady?” above the photos.
