Page 51 of Lessons in Forgiving
Despite both Laila and Riley’s encouraging words, and even though Maeve had insisted on watching my go-to comfortmovie, I did not sleep last night. I dozed off in sporadic bursts of delusion, yes, but I could not call that sleep.
The only positive? My night wasn’t long enough to grieve the sleep I’d missed out on. At five, my alarm rang for a total of two seconds before I turned it off, because I’d already been on my phone when it did.
That didn’t mean I wasn’t tired, though. Or grumpy from the lack of sleep. I think Henry noticed when the first words I’d said to him were in the coffee-shop line, after airport security. It became glaringly obvious when he asked for my order.
“Coffee,” I grunted, regretfully. Then, as an afterthought I added, “Black.”
“You will hate it,” he warned, and my eyes shot to his with a glare.
“I’ll need it, if you don’t want me to drool on your shoulder for an hour straight.”
Henry huffed in amusement. “I’d survive,” he said before turning to order our drinks anyway.
He seemed to have adjusted to the idea of my coming. Even though he had less of a choice in the matter—an angry manager breathing down his neck seemed more intimidating than an angry editor I’d never see again in a few months—I felt better. Less guilty for imposing.
Equipped with a small bag, my carry on‚ and a coffee so dark I could smell the bad taste, we marched to our gate. I scowled at my first sip. Somehow, it tasted worse than what I’d had a few weeks ago.
Henry watched me in amusement. “Long night?” he asked.
I smacked my lips in disgust, grimacing. “More like too short.” I shook myself out of the aftertaste, regretting the cup in my hand. “Do people really drink this for enjoyment?” My eyes drifted to him for confirmation.
Henry wiggled the cup in his hands, lips falling into a lazy smile. “Apparently.” To make his point, he took a big sip. Voluntarily! He didn’t even lookthattired.
Alright, he didn’t look tired at all.
“You’re a black coffee drinker.” The realization hit like lightning. “I’ve known you for almost four years, and I haven’t seen you drink it once.”
“Obviously.” Amusement edged into his snicker. “Because the first time I picked you up from a shift, you wouldn’t stop complaining about it. If I remember correctly, you said—and this is a direct quote—the smell alone makes you want toshrivel up and die.”
Yes, perhaps working at a coffee shop hadn’t been the best career option.
I blinked up at Henry. “So you just stopped drinking it?”
“When you’re around.”
He said it like it was a given. Like anyone would sacrifice part of their mornings for a college relationship that, statistically speaking, only had a fifty percent success rate to begin with.
“And youreallylike it?”
Henry shrugged. “It gets the job done.”
And I honestly shouldn’t have expected any other reason for his affinity to black coffee. With Henry, anything that got the job done was a good thing. I still wasn’t over the fact when I forced another sip of battery acid down my throat and blurted, “I’m sorry.”
His eyes flicked to mine, brows drawing together. “Honestly, coffee is not even all that good for you.”How someone could think anything that tasted like this could be healthy was beyond me.“So, no need to be sorry.”
But that’s not what I meant.
“No, no.” I waved him off. “For coming, I mean. I’m sorry for intruding like that.”
We came to a halt at our gate and for half a second, I was surprised to see a moving line in front of it. Then I remembered I was traveling with Henry, who’d probably planned for a perfectly timed arrival, even down to our coffee run.
The genuine smile on his lips turned into its forced equivalent at my words. “For the profile. Right?” He huffed. “It’s not like you wanted to be here.”
“And it’s not like you wanted me to,” I offered with a shrug, unsure which one of us was wrong—if anyone was at all.
Henry sighed, wanting to say something and doing nothing about it. Silence settled between us again. I smiled at the man checking my boarding pass and passport, then dropped it as soon as I passed him. Henry caught up with me and we walked onto the jet bridge.
“About that,” he finally said, sounding unsure, a little nervous. Usually, Henry was neither of those. “It wasn’t supposed to seem like—” He hesitated, then changed his mind. “You weren’t the problem.” He waved his boarding pass between us to make his point. “I just haven’t been on a plane since my parents’ accident. Like, I usually just drive everywhere or don’t go. This is the first time in seven years that I’m not.” Nervous chuckle. “And I wasn’t expecting to have company. On such short notice.”
