Page 21 of Weekends with You

“And you’ve resisted flower puns until now? Very impressive, Henry.” I suddenly wished I didn’t make jokes when I was nervous.

“I’m all out of resistance, if I’m honest.” He tucked a curl behind my ear, seemingly searching my face for consent.

“Then there’s only one thing left to do,” I said. It came out as more of a whisper. He cupped my face with his lingering hand and brought his lips to mine.

It was a gentle kiss at first, the kind that starts out like a question mark. It asks,Are you into this?orIs this all right?Half-closed eye contact answered both questions with a resoundingyes, and the kiss melted into an ellipsis.

His hands on the sides of my face were almost damp from the heavy London air, but I reveled in their warmth. Eventually, they worked their way into my hair, grip tightening just enough for me to notice. The traffic had slowed at this hour and the only sounds wafting through the night were our occasional sharp inhales or deep, satisfying exhales.

I rested my hands on his forearms and felt his exposed wrists, the result of a hoodie that had been shrunk in the wash one too many times. His pulse matched mine and that of the dark city below us. A steady, coursing drumbeat.

The kiss was as delicious as it was confusing. This couldn’t go anywhere, so it’d have to be over before it even started. Which was sad, really, because it was off to a brilliant start.

By the time we disentangled ourselves from each other, he must have sensed I was lost in thought. Absolute class of me to always ruin a nice moment.

“Sorry if that was, or if I—” he started.

“It was perfect,” I said, and I meant it. It was just also the end. He furrowed his brows, sensing I had more to say, and I knew I wasn’t getting away with stopping there. “It’s just that you leave tomorrow, and then—”

“I keep leaving,” he finished for me.

“Yeah.”

“But,” he said, touching his fingertips to my jaw, “I also keep coming back.”

He did have a point. But with those mossy eyes and the way his jaw cast a shadow in this light, he could have said Earth was flat and I would’ve thought he had a point.

“Then I guess we’ll just have to see what happens when you do,” I said, trying to save the moment.

“I like the sound of that,” he agreed. “And I’m very much looking forward to it.” He pressed his lips to mine once more, then stood and held out his hand. “Shall we? If we head in now, we’ll have at least a few minutes before we’re blinded by the sunrise.”

November

I’ll be home in about an hour. Don’t start without me. X

That was the text from Henry I’d been waiting for. We’d taken to texting almost daily outside the group chat since The Kiss, but none mattered so much as the one announcing his homecoming.

It was Jan’s month, but he had it easy. The city had planned things for him: Bonfire Night. He made some mention of perhaps having plans tomorrow, too, but we all knew he’d be too hungover to go through with them. We’d spend the day recovering in our rooms, only crawling out to eat dry toast or use the toilet, and then we’d come together for a greasy dinner or something.

“Renee,” I called from the studio to the office, “What time did you say you were going to meet your grandchildren?”

“Why do you ask? Trying to sneak out early because Henry’s coming home tonight?” I couldn’t get anything past her. Ever.

“Wouldn’t you just lose your mind already? Become a little senile so I can live my life?” I groaned like a child. She came into the studio laughing, pulling her frizzy gray curls into a ponytail.

“Me? Never,” she said. “Besides, who would run this place if I did?”

“I don’t know...” I trailed off, looking around. “If only there was someone capable and willing...”

“Lucy Bernstein, I know you are not trying to get rid of me, are ya?”

“Me? Never.” We smiled at each other, and I felt a familiar pang of warmth in my chest. Admittedly, things around the shop had been a little off since Fall Fest. It had been a massive success, but the one thing that had been missing was Renee’s usual enthusiasm. She had seemed pleased with the work I did, so I knew it wasn’t that, but a successful event didn’t seem to inspire her the way it used to. I chalked it up to general shop-owning stress or whatever else might have been going on behind the scenes, and tried to put it out of my mind, knowing I’d spiral if I didn’t.

“Would you look at that,” she said, untying her apron and gesturing to the clock. “I’m due to meet my grandchildren right now.”

“So youarea senile old lady after all,” I said, smiling like a maniac.

“When I want to be. Now go, before I change my mind. And don’t forget we’re coming in tomorrow for that thing for Hattie’s niece!” she called after me, but I was already almost out the door.

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