Page 22 of Lessons in Forgiving
> JACK:
Still on for tonight?
While, yes, my phone was turned toward me, I had no doubt Henry could read the text, even if it was upside down. I didn’t know why I cared.
Henry’s nose twitched, but he sounded more amused than he looked when our gazes crossed again. “Big plans?” he asked, nodding to the phone now in my hand.
I turned the recording off and threw the thing in my bag, where it could no longer wreak havoc. Because the lightalmost-comfortable air we’d been working toward for the past fifty minutes was gone. So fast, it gave me whiplash.
“Something like that.” Actually, nothing like it. I’d probably end up cancelling on Jack because I had to transcribe those fifty minutes of audio he had just brutally interrupted. But I’d be damned if I told Henry that.
If he could flirt with a beautiful brunette, I could very well be texting potentials.
“Did you already get our schedule from Eddie?” I asked to move things on, throwing the rest of my equipment into my tote like I’d gotten an emergency call.
Henry stood as soon as he got that. He’d always been great at reading the room. “No,” he huffed, the sound incredibly closeto his usual grumbling self. “Never thought I’d get one,” he confessed bluntly. “I don’t think I’ve ever even heard you say the word schedule before.”
Granted, he wasn’t wrong. Still. “I told you,” I snickered, scraping my chair back and getting out of it hastily. “I’m taking this very seriously.” He opened the door for me, and I stepped through like it was second nature.
I think in the four years I’d known Henry, I hadn’t opened a single door in his presence. I didn’t even question the gesture, just silently appreciated it. He fell into step beside me.
“I’ll email theschedule—” I stressed the word, and he had to keep his lips from twitching. “To you by tonight.”
It made me realize that I had beautifully method-acted my way into the role of ex-girlfriend who didn’t at all still care and actually kind of despised him. Glares and teasing comments and all.
“Oh no.” He waved off, eyes not even on me. “Tomorrow is fine. Don’t let me spoil your fun with—”
“Henry!” We both twirled around at the call from behind. Really, though, I didn’t need to turn to recognize the voice that regularly ordered me on coffee runs.
“Lacy,” we said simultaneously, which made me turn to him with the obvious question written all over my face.
I had no idea the two knew each other. In fact, they hadn’t a year ago. Despite the first-name basis, looking at him now, the crease between Henry’s brows pleased me more than it should.
Clutching the strap of her messenger bag, Lacy came to halt by his side. “Back again already,” she mused. “To what do we owe the pleasure?” she tugged some of her blonde, freshly blown out hair behind one ear. Her head tilted slightly when she looked up at him, and I wasn’t quite sure whether she ignored me on purpose or genuinely blanked me out.
Henry’s brow lifted as if it was obvious. When he pointed at me, and Lacy’s gaze followed his gesture, I could see her awareness latch onto me in real time. Her eyes widened just a little as she put two and two together. It took another second before all the dots were connected.
“Oh!” She shook herself out of her surprise to see me. “Paula! Hi.”
Her tone was perfectly friendly, but the pointed look didn’t match the attitude. Just as quick, it was gone again, and she looked back to Henry with a smile. “The profile. Of course.” She nodded. “Such a shame I have too much on my plate already. We would’ve made a great team, don’t you think?”
The revelation wasn’t necessarily shocking. Of course the only reason I’d gotten this opportunity was because Lacy Halloway hadtoo much on her plate.
Still, it kind of stung anyway.
Getting her leftovers. Being second, perhaps third—fourthchoice. Even after a year on the metaphorical writing bench, I wasn’t used to it.
“Sure,” Henry said roughly, ripping me out of my thoughts. “You’re saying this was supposed to be your thing? The profile?” His follow-up question seemed to take her off-guard, but she nodded grandly.
“Oh, yeah,” she said, as if it should’ve been obvious. Maybe it was. “Edward basically begged me to do this.”
Just like he had begged me to.
This was quickly turning into one of the worst conversations of my life.
Didn’t matter that I’d just somewhat survived an interview with my ex-boyfriend with little to no preparation. A sixty-second conversation with Lacy had flushed it all down the toilet.
“It really is a shame,” she doubled down. Her eyes swept across his frame once, not very subtly.
