Page 137 of Chasing After You
“Only if you win,” I say, knowing he needs a challenge, and he grins.
“You can count on it,” Henry promises, stepping away to follow the team, but before he disappears from view, he glances back to see if I’m still standing there.
I’m not going anywhere.
~
“Is it true you almost didn’t play today because you refused to take off a jersey with your number and the last name Walker?” Erin Marshall, a rising sideline reporter, asks Henry in the postgame interview playing on the television in the private room.
“Yeah, it is,” Henry confirms as if it’s an everyday occurrence for him.
“Why would you risk it during playoffs?” she asks, and Tom nudges me.
“You could be down there with him. It looks like quite the celebration after the win they just pulled off,” Tom suggests.
“I’m good here,” I say, listening for his answer.
Henry smiles, and it’s the one usually reserved for me. I’m a little jealous about sharing it with everyone, but his next sentence makes up for it. “Because I’m going to marry Mirabelle Walker, and being loved by her is worth risking everything.”
Shut the fucking front door.
“Did he really—”
“I told you not to be worried about the flowers,” Tom says, and I’m wondering if I’m stuck inside a fever dream.
It feels like forever before Henry steps through the door and Tom exits.
A sense of calm washes over me, all my anxiety finally disappearing now that I’m in the same room as Henry. “I know it’s my fault we’re not together right now, because I stupidly told you no when you asked me to forgive you. I thought it was the right thing to do, but I think it caused us both a lot of unnecessary pain,” I say, twisting the bouquet of flowers in my hands.
“Mirabelle—” Henry begins, moving closer to me.
“I’m not finished,” I interrupt, offering him the wildflowers I picked out. He looks at them, confused, and I take that as my cue to continue. “My dad has always bought flowers for my mom. I asked him once why he did it, and he told me the fact hewantedto buy them was how he knew she wasthe one. He said remembering to do the small things for someone shows how important they truly are to you. I know it might be weird for me to be the one giving you flowers, but I want to remember to do the small things for you because I love you.”
Please take the flowers, Henry.
Henry’s fingers brush over mine as he takes them from me, sparking electrical shocks through my body. “I don’t think anyone has ever gotten me flowers before,” he says, making me wonder if this is how Dad feels when buying them for Mom.
“I know roses are standard, but I thought they were a little cliché, so—”
“Je les aime et toi,”54 he states, staring directly into my soul.
“Vraiment?”55 I whisper, and Henry sets the flowers down carefully.
Henry pulls me into his arms, and I instantly wrap mine around his strong torso, pressing my face into his chest.“Vraiment,”56 he confirms, holding me tight. I’m certain there’s no better feeling than having Henry’s arms wrapped around me.
I feel lighter than I have in weeks. Henry rests his chin on the top of my head, and I breathe deeply.
I feel like I’m home.
“Can it be my turn to talk?” Henry asks after a few minutes, and I look up at him.
“Of course.”
I pull away, but Henry intertwines our fingers, pulling me into his lap after he sits in one of the chairs at the table. His brow furrows as he thinks of the right words to say, and I squeeze his hand reassuringly to let him know I’m not going anywhere.
He exhales slowly, shaking his head, turning away.
I use my free hand to turn his face to me. “Henry, what is it?”
