Page 89 of Lessons in Forgiving
Have you been learning Spanish?
“Un poquito.” The pink spread from his neck and ears into his cheeks now, and he cringed at his own words, the pronunciation of them and whatever else he was clearly overthinking. I wasn’t paying attention to any of that; only the fact that I spoke Spanish, and that he understood me.
“Para mí?”
“You.” He nodded in affirmation. “And your parents.” Henry thought for a moment, drew his wrist out of my grip to interlace our fingers. “And my ego, a little bit.”
I laughed—soft and open. Not because of his joke, but because I was happy. I recognized the fuzzy feeling in my stomach, the tender pull on my heart. The way I couldn’t stop smiling. I was so so happy.
Henry did not share the sentiment, probably because he still had a horrible accent when he spoke, and he was doing something—tryingsomething he hadn’t immediately been perfect at. Still trying, after three-hundred-and-sixty days.
I drew him to me, his lips to mine, and tugged and pulled until my back hit the wall right by the bottom of the staircase.
The smile on my lips was wide enough to coax one onto his, too. Mid-kiss, my head shook, and I pulled away again. Looked at him. The way his green eyes fixed on mine, pupils wide, cheeks still flushed and damp hair darker than usual. The few freckles across his nose were more prominent after a day in the sun.
“Three-hundred days?” I asked again, disbelief and awe playing in my tone.
Henry gasped playfully. “And sixty!” he corrected. “How dare you bury my achievements like that?” He laughed, then kissed me again.
Almost a year. And for ten months of it, we hadn’t even looked at each other, never mind spoken a word.
CHAPTER 35
THEN, June: ten months ago
I could feel Lacy’s eyes on me. From the desk beside mine, her gaze narrowed on my profile, assessing and judging whenever she heard anotherCongratulations!
All brains, no polish: The Burden of Ivy Leagueshad been a big deal for theHall Beck Post. It made other writers hope they might get an assigned article from the board, and editors hope their work might finally be appreciated by their own school.
Perhaps that’s something I’d rolled in motion now.
I had handed the final draft in two weeks ago. After a few more minor corrections, and a long approval process with HBU, it had gone to print in this week’s issue.
Both mine and Lacy’s gaze trailed after the editor, who’d stopped by my desk to pat me on the back with celebratory words. When he was gone, in my peripheral vision I could see her chair spin in my direction.
“Is there anything you cannot do?” she asked, drawing my eyes to her and the unexpected smile on her lips. Fake, I figured.
Lacy and I had always been cordial with each other, but we both knew we weren’t… fans. She had a great style, a great writing-voice, which meant she always managed to get exactly those articles that I’d wanted. I’d been a little surprised not to see this one on her table.
She probably had been, too.
Lacy’s head tilted at my lack of an answer, and she brushed her blonde hair to one side. “Seriously. I mean,The New York Times, now this?” Still, her words seemed like praise, and I failed to spot the usual bitterness in her tone.
“Thank you,” was all I managed to say, hoping to keep the conversation civil, our fake smiles in place and for us to move on. To turn back to our respective screens and ignore each other like we had for most of the past three years.
But—“How was it?” Lacy continued asking. Her smile hadn’t faltered, if anything had turned sly and knowing. Of what, I wasn’t sure. “I can imagine it’s hard, right? Finding someone who’s willing to snitch on something they pay so much money for every year. Would they still be able to justify spending it once they become aware it’s… all brains and no polish?” She pondered the question, eyes drifting off into nowhere like she was really considering.
I had tried not to. And I hated that she knew exactly what I’d been struggling with—what I’d only overcome because I’d had Henry’s help.
I took a deep breath. “Apparently so. They said what we’d hoped they would. It all worked out in the end, didn’t it?”
Lacy’s dark brows lifted in sync with her smile. Like I’d finally taken the bait. And that I still wasn’t sure of what killed me. “Yes,” she agreed, nodding grandly. “They said what we wanted them to.”
Another voice saved me from scrambling for a reply. “Paula?”
My gaze snapped to Eddie in the door right behind my screen. My smile turned genuine, expectingcongratulationsandwell dones. But he didn’t seem happy enough for that sort of conversation, instead forcing a polite half-smile onto his lips and saying, “Let’s talk for a second.”
Gesturing toward the hall, I followed him out. I could feel Lacy’s blue eyes on me until I’d closed the door behind me.
