Page 99 of Weekends with You

I felt like he had just reached his long fingers into my chest and wrapped them around my pounding heart. If we hadlearned anything about time and distance, it was that we couldn’t go back and do things differently. We could only move forward, and try to change the future instead.

And he had taken the first step into that uncertain future. We couldn’t undo what had been done, but did that mean we had to carry it forever? Was there a way to use it as a stepping stone, the kind of wobbly, slippery one that still managed to get you to the other side of the stream?

I returned the letter to the envelope and flipped through the pictures once more before piling them neatly on my desk. Liv was shouting downstairs, trying to rally everyone in the kitchen so we could get the day started, which meant I didn’t have time to try to work through any of this just yet. The most I could do was count a four-second inhale followed by an eight-second exhale, accompanied by a silent prayer to the universe that I might get through this day unscathed. That I might get some kind of sign telling me where to go from here. What to make of any of this. How to get out of my own way.

By the time I arrived in the kitchen, almost everybody was crowded together, standing over the stove as Cal made breakfast sandwiches. The smell transported me right back to that first morning in Cork, and I had to physically shake my head free of the image of Henry’s naked body under the sheets.

“Well?” Finn prompted Henry as soon as I arrived. “That makes eight. What’s the craic, then?”

Henry cut his eyes to me before he answered Finn, undoubtedly searching my face for some hint that I’d seen the envelope. I watched his eyes travel to my fingers, resting on the hollow of my throat where I’d been fidgeting with my necklace, both of us now frozen in a hopeful sort of standoff. The corners of my lips crept into something that resembled a soft smile beforeI could control them, which he returned with a glisten in his forest eyes.

I couldn’t yet manage more than a breath of acknowledgment, but fortunately, that seemed to be all he was searching for.

“Right, then,” he said, clapping his hands together and clearing his throat. “It’s the Sundance Gardens season opener and Lantern Festival for us today.”

The sound of these words sent rivers of sparks through my body. It had always been a dream of mine to see the Lantern Festival at Sundance Gardens, but getting tickets was nearly impossible, not to mention quite pricey.

“Are you having a laugh?” Jan asked, interrupting my reverie and nearly spitting a mouthful of coffee back into his mug. “A garden? Weren’t you telling me a month ago we were supposed to be at a gig or something?”

“Change of heart,” Henry said to Jan, though he was looking directly at me, his single dimple deepening in his right cheek.

He wasn’t having a laugh at all. We were really going. And not because Henry was interested in flowers or lanterns, but because I was. He’d done this for me.

His intentions swirled around my brain like the creamer in my coffee, sweet, gentle, and decadent.

“How?” I asked before I could stop myself, feeling this was all too good to be true.

“I know a guy,” he answered, clucking his tongue at my expression, which must have been one of unfiltered awe and intense appreciation. “And said guy happens to be married to the director of marketing for the festival, so they were able to pull some strings and get us in.”

Words eluded me, and I was left standing there like a fool, hands clasped at my chest, saying nothing.

“Well, it’s clear what this is all about,” Raja said, nodding in my direction.

“Not quite sure what happened there in Ireland,” Finn said, “but you made a right mess of things, didn’t ya, Hen?”

I unclasped my hands only to bury my face in them, not sure if I was going to laugh or cry.

“Maybe I’m just really into gardens now,” he said.

“Oh sure,” Margot said. “You’re really into something, all right.”

“Okay, enough,” Henry said, waving them off. “Be ready to leave by half three. And leave your gossiping and prying at home, would you?”

“Never,” Raja answered for the group. “You did this to yourself, darling.” Henry’s eyes searched mine for support, and for the first time in a long time, I felt like we were on the same team.

Sundance Gardens swallowed us whole the minute we stepped through the gates, transporting us from the grimy city center into what felt like a painting of the countryside. The overlapping scents of the peonies and hydrangeas was intoxicating, lulling us all into a trance as we wound along narrow paths, reaching out to graze our fingers over the endless blooms.

Gentle fountains bubbled in each clearing, surrounded by stone birdbaths and the occasional statue of a goddess. I fielded a handful of questions from my roommates as we perused the flowers, their interest in my greatest passion warming me through to my core. I took out my phone to snap a few photos to send to Renee when I got home, though I knew Henry’s would be the ones I’d end up framing.

I noticed his camera now, clicking in time with the distant calls of birds and lovers, the whispers of wind through thetrees. I studied his set jaw as he trained the viewfinder on a tunnel of sweet peas, remembering how it had felt that night in Ireland, under my fingertips, digging into my collarbone, nestled against the top of my head.

“Get Jan in there for some juxtaposition,” I whispered to Henry as he set up a shot against a wall of zinnias. He barked a short laugh into the quiet of the gardens, and our six roommates whipped around to look at us.

I put my hand up in apology, as if to saynothing to see here,and Henry nudged me in the ribs. The spark from just the touch of his elbow traveled straight into my chest, thrumming along with my heartbeat.

“So you did learn something after all,” he said, lowering his camera and slowing his long strides. A mental film reel unraveled in the back of my mind, flashing moments of the things he’d taught me that night in the studio, but also of the things he’d taught me on the street in Amsterdam, and again while his phone had wobbled in my shaky hand in Ireland.

“Oh, I’ve learned quite a bit from you, Hen,” I said. “And not all of it has been clever, I might add.” I tried to soften the expression in my eyes when I looked at him so he’d know I was more introspective than angry, especially after this morning, but I wasn’t sure I succeeded.

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