Page 81 of Lessons in Forgiving
Maeve didn’t flick on the light, thank God, but instead closed the door behind herself to join me on the bed. My cursor blinked on the page, my unlocked phone displayed my chat with Henry—the text bubbles all blue. Shamelessly, she read them all.
“Before you say anything,” I deadpanned, unable to care about the pathetic picture she’d walked in on. “They’re all work-related.”
Maeve’s hands shot up in surrender, dropping the phone back onto the bed.
She nudged my shoulder with hers. “I was only going to say he read them five minutes ago.”
New development. The last I checked, he hadn’t even bothered opening them. When my eyes flicked to my best friend, they were probably bloodshot.
Really, I’d excused the unopened texts due to the time. It was past eleven by now, probably closer to midnight, and Henry still kept an early bedtime.So he’s probably asleep,I’d told myself.
Well, he wasn’t.
Maeve gave me a pity-smile I felt I deserved this time. When she got up, she pulled me with her, and I landed on my feet with a loud groan.
“Have you eaten?” she asked unnecessarily. I’d been holed up in here since six, so take a wild guess.
My stomach answered for me. “But—” My gaze drifted back to the laptop despite it, and Maeve had to literally push me out of my room, then shut the door behind us when we got into the hallway. The light was disorienting for a second.
“There’s no point in staring at that draft a second longer, Paula,” she said, maneuvering me down the stairs and delivering me onto the couch. She steered toward the kitchen, emergingwith a pizza box. “We got one for you. I don’t know how good cold vegan cheese is, but here you go.”
Maeve nudged Pip onto my lap to sit where she’d previously slept peacefully. And although reluctant, my cat was about to curl up on it again, already turning on the spot, kneading my legs when she went stock-still instead.
Her tiny head shot in the direction of the door just before it rang. So loudly, she took it as her own personal sign to run up the stairs, paws clacking across the floor.
Maeve and I exchanged a look. I think we were both wondering if we were about to get brutally murdered.
“Did you forget to pay for the pizza?” I asked, unable to stop myself from taking a bite despite the situation.
“That was two hours ago. We obviously paid for the pizza,” she hushed back, narrowing her eyes at me before getting up. On her way to the door, she grabbed the empty vase we’d been meaning to fill with fresh flowers as a potential weapon.
Henry used to make sure that same vase held new bouquets once a week. So when we broke up—and the flowers stopped, obviously—the place had felt empty without them. We really did plan to just get them ourselves.
It never happened, and I’d gotten used to the empty thing again.
Maeve raised the vase above her head, ready to swing. She grabbed the doorknob, twisted it, and forcefully pulled the door open.
“Oh.” The vase lowered. So did the piece of pizza from my mouth. “Henry,” she said, kind of in warning, as if I couldn’t see him in our doorway. Mere feet away, hair disheveled, in oversized T-shirt and… sweatpants.
Domestic, came to mind right away.
Henry’s eyes followed the would-be weapon in Maeve’s hand as it lowered, a frown on his lips. “Is Paula— ?” Which was when his gaze wandered into the house and connected with mine.
I blinked at him, not saying a word. He mirrored the sentiment, and I wondered if he was thinking about our last encounter, too. If he remembered he hadn’t called when he said he would as well.
A scowl tugged on Maeve’s lips when I got up. I felt too aware of every single one of my limbs as I crossed the room, like I was another step away from forgetting how to walk entirely. One look at my best friend and a reluctant nod from her later, she fled up the stairs to give us privacy.
I couldn’t quite find it in me to care when I’d closed the door behind me and stood in front of Henry. Felt his warmth, smelled him, his minty toothpaste.
“Hi,” I said so quietly I might as well have whispered the word.
The way his lips pulled up, the way the worried frown on his face disappeared… everything about the moment reminded me of our last encounter.
His hands on my body, his lips on my skin, his breath heavy and uncontrolled. The way I couldn’t think of anything but him and his groans and the way he would’ve had me right then and there if we hadn’t been interrupted. The way we could’ve picked up where we’d left off if he’d just—
“You didn’t call.” And I tried to sound unbothered—cool and calm. I couldn’t tell whether I’d succeeded.
Something in his expression twitched. Like the fact he was here, that it was almost midnight, and he wasn’t asleep buthere, ten seconds away from an argument with his ex-girlfriend, only really sank in now. He blinked the realization away.
