Page 39 of The Weight Of It All
“Henry?”
I turned this time to find Colin and James, Graham’s best friends. They were good friends of mine too, up until three weeks ago.
“Colin, James,” I said in greeting.
They each gave me an awkward hug. “How are you?” Colin asked.
“Good. And you?” I couldn’t keep the chill from my tone.
“We’re good,” Colin replied.
James nodded but couldn’t take his eyes off Reed. “Hi,” James said, looking from Reed to me, expecting an introduction.
“Hi,” Reed answered shortly. He clearly picked up on my discomfort.
“We better get going,” I said quickly. I wasn’t giving them anything. “Or we’ll be late.”
Colin seemed to get it. “Okay. It’s good to see you, Henry. You look great.” He gave me a sad smile. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry about what happened. Graham’s?”
I put my hand up. “Don’t. I don’t want to know.”
“Fair enough,” Colin said. “Sorry.”
I looked up at Reed. “You ready?”
He gave a nod, and we turned to head back up toward Martin Place. We’d only walked a few metres when Reed asked, “You okay?”
I nodded. “They were good friends but chose Graham in the split. Well, they were his friends first.”
“Collateral damage, huh?”
I nodded, and he quickly looked over his shoulder back to where Colin and James were. “They’re still watching,” Reed said and put his arm around my shoulder as we walked. “This okay?”
The weight of his arm, the warmth, the contact, felt really good. “Yeah.”
“You pretended to be my boyfriend in the store to help me,” Reed said. “Just returning the favour.”
“Are they still watching?” I asked.
He looked back again and smiled. “Yep.”
“James is probably calling Graham right now.”
Reed was quiet for a few steps. “Do you want him to?”
“Call Graham?” I repeated. “I don’t care.”
Reed stopped walking, and with his arm still around my shoulders, he turned me so we stood facing each other. His hand now rested gently near my neck. “You do care. And that’s what makes you a better person than him. Because he can’t even return a text message. So let him not care, because he’s an arsehole. But you’re not. It’s okay to care, Henry. I like that you still care.”
“Of course I care,” I admitted. “I always will. But not like that. Not anymore.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know what I feel for him. I’m not hurt and angry anymore. I should be, but I’m not. And I have to wonder what that means.”
Just then, a far off, very familiar voice yelled out. “Henry?”
Oh dear God. You’ve got to be kidding me.
