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Although I think I am being discreet in my agony, Finn leans over to me, “I don’t like him either.”
Good, I’m not alone in this, but intrigued about the source of his dislike. “Why’s that?”
“Nothing solid—he just rubs me the wrong way.” Finn looks to the end of the table where Lucy is speaking with Hannah. “And she doesn’t seem like herself. Mia said she barely spoke since his unexpected arrival.”
“Let’s keep an eye out,” I instruct him. Having kept my gaze from her until now, too afraid of what I would see when she looked athim.I risk a glance. She looks beautiful as she always does. Maybe this was a mistake. What if she sees my emotions on my face. No, I need to look, to check on her.
While she does appear content, something is off about her. Her posture, while typically exquisite, now looks far too rigid, not as natural as it usually does. When her eyes meet mine for only a moment, I swear I see a flash ofsomething in them. Could it just be that she is sorry for the intrusion, or could it be more?
“Already on it.” Finn winks and returns to his meal.
Dinner finishes, and everyone pitches in with the clean-up, but Lucy maintains her distance from me and I do not intrude on her space, still unsure how she feels about her unexpected guest. Oliver suggests a game before everyone retires. Lucy doesn’t respond, but John jumps at the idea. I don’t hide my eye roll.
In an attempt to be respectful, she may want to play, so I opt out of the game, “Sorry, but I have some work I’d like to catch up on before bed. Have a good night.” And I sulk up to my room so I don’t have to witness another moment of Lucy with him.
It’s helpful to know Finn is keeping an eye on everything. That is, until everyone goes to bed for the night. Fury fills me at that thought. Unable to contain my anger, I slam my bedroom door behind me.
Twenty-Seven
HENRY
Unable to find sleep,I toss and turn for hours, thinking about Lucy, about her in my home, withhim. Attempting to distract myself, I turn on my bedside light and grab the closest book. Hopefully, reading can occupy my mind enough to settle it. Of course, the book I grabbed is the cheap copy ofPride and Prejudicethe studio gave me to make notes on. I flip through the pages and notice Lucy’s notes next to scenes she insisted were “required” for the adaptation.
The memory of the airport comes flooding back into my mind.
“I hope you find your Miss Bennett,” Lucy says to me.
“I believe I already have,” I answer her.
I wonder if she sensed what I felt that day, the spark between us finally morphed into a blaze that I have been unable to contain in the weeks since.
This is no use.
My throat feels dry. Perhaps a drink of water will help me find sleep. Listening closely at my bedroom door,there’s nothing but silence on the other side. I’m light on my feet in the open hallway, trying not to wake anyone. My stomach knots as I pass Lucy’s room, which she is now sharing with John. I hurry past as if the images of them in there together will disappear the further away I am from the door.
As I reach the bottom step, I notice a figure standing next to the window in the kitchen. Quietly moving closer allows me to recognize the long brown hair that curls under itself at the bottom. Lucy’s wearing a white long-sleeved shirt and loose pink pajama bottoms. I look around and feel relieved when I confirm she is alone.
She hasn’t turned around yet. If she doesn’t hear me coming, I don’t want to startle her. I clear my throat and ask, “Couldn’t sleep?”
She doesn’t say anything, continuing to face the window when she raises a mug above her head.
I walk closer to the kitchen, passing through the living room, when I notice that one couch has blankets and a pillow laid out with a book on it. I recognize the pillow and blanket. They are the ones from her room that I placed out for her…and spritzed my cologne on.
I stop next to her makeshift bed and ask, “What’s this?”
She turns around and looks apologetic as she walks toward me. “I’m sorry, I would have asked before doing that, but by the time I got to it, everyone was asleep. I’ll have it cleaned up before anyone else gets up.”
“No need to apologize. I just assumed you would be upstairs in the embrace of your one true love.”I shouldn’t have said that. It’s been decades since I cared enough aboutanyone to be jealous and I am clearly out of touch on how to handle the emotion.
Lucy meets my eyes quickly, her face void of all emotions, and then walks back to the window. I follow her, watching as she takes a sip from her cup and returns to her spot, gazing at the snow falling outside.
I look around, deciding if I should make a drink for myself, when I notice a packet of hot chocolate powder in the trash. Well, that settles what I’ll be making to drink. She keeps her focus out the window. I turn the stove on and pour milk into a small pan. While I’m fetching the chocolate chips from the cabinet, I ask, “Did you have a fallout?”
She takes a deep breath. “I’m trying to figure out how soon I can return to my apartment and arrange for him to return to New York.”
A rush of hope overcomes me, but I must not get ahead of myself. “It wasn’t a romantic reunion?”
Still facing the window, she explains, “I may have left out the details of our relationship to everyone, but it seems the blanks were filled in with a very romantic story, and when they invited him this weekend, their hearts were in the right place.”
