Page 91 of Lessons in Forgiving
And I had been. Even if I’d scoured the Internet for another three hours that night, I wouldn’t have found the thing that would cost me my good reputation two weeks down the line.
I still hadn’t, almost a year later.
And I’d never stopped blaming myself for closing that laptop.
After our breakup, I’d just blamed him, too. For introducing me to Mark, for distracting me, and for making me jeopardize everything I’d worked for, while he hadn’t risked anything for me at all. I wasn’t sure if it had been fair, but it had made me feel better, and Maeve had said that’s all that mattered.
A year later, my first project after the debacle, and I’d found myself in the same situation. Working, writing and researching in the presence of Henry—who could so easily distract me.
I promised myself a million times over that I wouldn’t let it be the same again. Chanted the words in my head like my own personal mantra whenever I got a whiff of his cologne, or he made a sound from across the room.
Not again. Not again. Not again.
Turned out that’s harder when everything around you screamed Henry Parker Pressley. When I could hear him make a call in the other room, move around the house, tell me from the other end of itI found some vegan places that deliver! What do you want, sushi or burgers?
Sushi, obviously.
But I’d powered through and made it to the end of that second draft by early evening. I’d be lying if I said getting back to Henry hadn’t been one of the motivators making me work faster.
So, being in his arms, in his bed, felt like a reward of some kind.
“You know,” he said, his fingers trailing along my back. “This isn’t veryfriendsof us.”
The way my chest pressed against his abs. The way he held me. The way not even a piece of paper could fit between us.
Yeah, I thought.It wasn’t really friends of us at all.
I sighed, shrugged. A half-amused huff made it past my lips. “In the good way or the bad way?”
Henry shifted underneath me. “I can’t imagine a world in which this would be bad.” I could feel him contemplating. “What makes you say that?”
“Nothing.” Many things, actually. “Just…” I hesitated.
To address the elephant in the room or not?
“Back then.” I began. “What we had wasn’t so bad. Was it?”
Henry sat up now, leaned against the headboard and drew me up with him. His green eyes searched mine for just a trace of humor, but I couldn’t find it in me to pretend for him.
“You’re saying that like I’d think it was,” he figured. I grabbed the first shirt I saw from the foot of the bed, and he followed my movement when I slid into it. It happened to be his. He didn’t comment on it. “Why?”
And I couldn’t believe he was asking me why I’d ever assume he thought our relationship had been bad. With a tone that almost seemed insulted by the insinuation. My eyes twitched, flickered across the confusion on his face.
“Maybe—” I couldn’t help the flat delivery. “Maybebecause you broke up with me.”
My attention drew away from him. To the big windows that reached the floor, showed the entire garden with its pool and statues and roses. To the desk that stood in front of one of them, small lamp, pens, and paper on top of it. To our clothes scattered around the room—his sweatpants by the foot of the bed and my shirt in the doorway. I was looking anywhere but at him.
Henry laughed, the sound dry and devoid of humor. “If I remember correctly, you seemed just fine with that.”
My head shot back in his direction. “You can’t–-” I settled when I began too loudly, too defensively. Tried again. “You can’t seriously believe that.”
“How couldn’t I?” he pressed. “A week later, Maeve brings me a cardboard box of my stuff, then demands one with yours.A month later, you’ve got my number blocked. And I don’t hear from you again.”
Because I had to! Because there was no way I could’ve seen you a week after we’d broken up. Because I’d been so tempted to call and text you, Maeve had to block your number for me.
I wanted to scream the words at him.
When I didn’t, Henry added, “You never even asked. Why I did what I did.” His tone got stronger, fiercer, like we might actually get into a fight. Right here. Right now.
