by Kay Harris
She nods, a serious look on her face.
“So…um…when he gets here…” I begin, fumbling to figure out how to ask their advice.
But I never get the chance because the sound of the lock being turned in the front door, by someone who obviously has a key, jolts me. From where we are sitting on the couch, all three of us have a clear view of the entryway. And as I watch Henry walk in, I stiffen.
He stops in the doorway and looks at me for a long beat before tossing his backpack in the foyer and walking fully into the living room.
“Hey, Mom. Hey, Dad,” he says casually. Then his voice changes, becoming lower. “Hi, Chels.”
“Well, now that you’ve finally managed to catch up with each other,” Sean says, standing, “we’ll leave you two alone.” He pulls Dani up, too.
Dani smiles and walks over to Henry. She kisses him on the cheek, grabs her drink off the coffee table, winks at me, and walks out of the room, Sean right behind her.
“We need to talk,” Henry says.
Chapter 18
“Yeah.” My eyes dart to the sliding glass door at the other end of the room. “Can we go out in the backyard?”
Henry grins. “You want to see my childhood backyard, don’t you?”
I nod.
Henry holds his hand out to me. It is invitation for closeness. And I take it. Then we walk together out into the warm Malibu night. “How was the concert?” he asks me.
I sit down on a porch swing overlooking the pool. “It was fun. Kind of…surreal, but fun.”
Henry sits down beside me and drapes an arm over my shoulders. I cuddle in closer, desperate to feel his warmth surrounding me again. “My dad likes you.”
“You could tell that in ten seconds?”
“Well, yeah. But he also told me.”
I look up at him. “I’ve been with him nonstop since I got here. When, exactly, did this conversation occur?”
He chuckles. “By text. The point is, you’ve won my parents over, Chels.”
“Is that good or bad?”
He seems to ponder this for a moment. Then he says, “I guess it’s good. I can’t think of any reason it would be bad.”
“So, um, I guess we should talk about our shit,” I tell him.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t responsive the other day, Chels. You just kind of took me by surprise.”
“I know. I realized later I didn’t really give you a chance to…deal. I had worked myself up by then, you know.”
“I guess I don’t know. Why were you so worked up? You were upset before we even talked.”
“I was,” I admit. “I had convinced myself I could never have what I wanted with you.”
Henry shifts in his seat so he can see me better. “Why? Why would you think that before even asking me?”
I shrug, and suddenly feeling shy, I look away from Henry, focusing my gaze on the pool. It is bathed in a soft green glow created by the lights buried within the still waters. Henry waits while I work up the nerve to tell him the truth.
“Okay, here it is,” I say. “When it comes to being friends, you and I are a perfect match. But when it comes to romance…we’re not.”
“Why?”
“I’m not in your league.”
Henry grasps my chin between his thumb and forefinger and forces me to turn my head and look at him. “That. Is. Ridiculous.” His voice is quiet and firm.
“Not from my perspective.”
Henry frowns at me.
“But I am pretty much in the process of deciding I am as great as I want to be. And that, whatever hang-ups I have, I shouldn’t underestimate myself.”
“Goddamn right,” he growls, lowering his mouth to mine and taking me into a deep kiss. He pulls away and looks me in the eye. “Chelsea, you are a beautiful, sexy, smart, witty, amazing woman.” He takes a deep breath. “And I want to have a real relationship with you. I want to give you more.”
I attack him. Our mouths clash together. Our hands start to roam. We are both breathing hard, and the porch swing is starting to move. “We need to go somewhere, Henry,” I pant.
He pulls away and swiftly gets to his feet, taking me along with him. “My room,” he says simply.
He is already dragging me toward the house when I start to protest. “Your childhood room, really?”
He doesn’t pause in his march. We slide through the door and across the living room. “Yep.”
“But, I mean, your parents…”
“My room is on the opposite side of the house.” He makes a right and heads down a hallway. “And it’s a big house, Chels.”
I quit arguing and follow more willingly. Near the end of the hall, we hook into a large room. It doesn’t look like much like a childhood room. In fact, it is a lot like the room my parents still keep for me at their house. There are traces of a growing boy having once occupied it. An accent wall is painted navy blue. A corkboard still sits in one corner over a small wooden desk. But the corkboard is empty now, and the desk holds laptop cords and battery chargers. The bed is large, California king probably, and is flanked by two sophisticated bedside tables. A matching dresser sits near the closet.
Henry pulls his shirt off as soon as we enter the room and throws it on the floor. Then he reaches for me. I sidestep him. “You sure you want to do this in your parents’ house?” I tease. I take my glasses off and place them on the dresser. Then I pull my own shirt off and throw it on top of his on the floor.
He reaches for me again, but I manage to snake away, backing toward the bed. Then I pull my bra off. Much to my delight, Henry’s eyes grow wide and desire plays on his face. He manages to get hold of me. He kisses me hard and pushes me back on the bed.
I laugh as Henry pulls my hands over my head and buries his face in my neck. “It kind of feels like we’re naughty teenagers,” I tell him, practically giggling.
Henry chuckles and looks up at me. “I am a way better lover now, Chels.”
“Lucky me.”
****
I am sprawled out on the bed, my head resting on Henry’s chest, when I open my eyes. Henry runs his hands through my hair, and I pull myself up so I can see him. “Morning,” I whisper.
“Good morning.”
“We’re totally naked in your parents’ house,” I say.
“You are overly obsessed with that,” he tells me, smiling. “We’re in our late twenties, Chels.”
“You are in your late twenties, I am still in my mid twenties,” I point out, just to be a pain in the ass.. “It’s just, all of the sexual experimenting I did in my teenage years, behind my parents’ back in my childhood bedroom, kinda affects my thinking, even now.”
“Well, we’re adults. And besides, this isn’t a convent. My dad is a rock star, you know.”
I run my fingers through his long, silky, black hair. “You think you’ll be as hot as your dad when you get older?”
Henry groans. “Please. Do not talk to me about how hot my dad is when I’m in bed naked with you.”
Suddenly, I get serious. “Shit. I’m sorry, Henry. I forgot about your hang-up.”
“Hang-up? Oh, yeah. I did, too.”
“You did?”
“Yeah. I wasn’t worrying about that just now, though. I was just jealous.” He runs one hand lightly over my breast.
“Jealous?”
“Hmmm. I’d rather you only find me hot, at least when you’re in bed with me.” He leans in to pull my earlobe between his teeth.
Then, much to my dismay, a knock sounds on the door. Both Henry and I stiffen.
“Yes?” Henry calls.
“Henry, we’re having breakfast. You and Chelsea should join us,” Dani says from behind the door.
“Okay, Mom. We’ll be there in a few.”
We are both completely still, listening hard as the sound of her footsteps fades away. Then I bury my head in Henry’s chest and giggle in a way I haven’t done in years.
“Come on,” Henry says, pulling out from beneat
h me and standing beside the bed. “We better go have awkward family time.”
We both get dressed and walk out into the hall hand in hand. Henry leads me through a spacious dining room, but to my surprise it is empty. I pause there, but Henry tugs on my hand and leads me into the kitchen.
A six-person oval table sits near a bay window in one corner of the spacious kitchen, and that’s where Dani sits, sipping on coffee. Sean is at the stove, his back to us.
“Good morning. Have a seat, Chelsea,” Dani says, gesturing to the chair beside her.
Instead of sitting down with us, Henry goes to the counter to pour two cups of coffee. After bringing me one, he wanders back over the refrigerator and grabs the cream for me. I like that Henry knows how I take my coffee. And I like that I don’t have to ask for him to accommodate me. I smile to myself. Dani catches me.
“What are you making, Dad?” Henry asks.
Sean turns around. “Guess.”
“Pancakes and bacon.”
Sean smiles and salutes his son with a spatula before turning back. I pour the cream into my mug and try not think about how freaking surreal this all is.
Dani examines us over the lip of her mug. “Sleep all right?”
“Yeah,” Henry mumbles. “Jetlagged after all that going back and forth last night,” he says, winking at me.
“Gloria wants to know if you two are staying in Malibu for a while. She wants to see you.”
Henry looks at me. “I’m not in a hurry to get back to SF. Are you, Chels?”
I shrug. “I don’t have a job anymore, so I guess not.”
Henry frowns. “I bet you could get your job at Trek back. In fact, I could call Steve and explain that it was all my fault—”
I hold my hand up to stop him. “It’s okay. Tom is retiring after this gig, and you’re all done. I would be miserable. I’ll find something else.”
Henry looks at me long and hard. “Are you sure?”
I nod. “Let’s stay here for a few days.” I like the idea of seeing Malibu through Henry’s eyes. I want to make him take me to his old haunts. And, most of all, I want to meet his big, complicated family.
Sean walks over to the table, a giant stack of pancakes piled onto a plate that is balanced in one hand and a jumble of crispy bacon nestled in a dish in the other. He sets them down on the table and takes the other seat next to Dani. Sean doesn’t speak, he just starts filling the plates. Dani and Henry seem to know what the cues are, and they start passing the food around, too.
“This is my contribution,” Dani says, pulling a dish toward her from the center of the table and uncovering it. “Fruit salad.” She eyes her husband. “Someone has make sure there’s a bit of nutrition in our meals.”
“Bacon is good for you,” Sean mumbles before digging into his breakfast.
We eat in companionable silence for a while. The only sounds are utensils hitting ceramic and nearly burnt bacon crunching. It is a good meal, and I am feeling happy and relaxed. Then Dani ruins it.
“So, where do you go from here?” she asks, pointing between Henry and me with her fork.
“Really, Mom?” Henry asks. After giving her an incredulous glance, he turns his gaze toward his father. And I can see by the look in his eyes he is seeking help.
Sean puts his fork down and leans back in his chair. And for a split second, I think he is going to help. But instead, he says, “Good question.”
Henry lets out a deep, exasperated sigh and turns to me. “Sorry. I didn’t know how weird they’d be. I rarely bring girls home.”
“Try never,” Dani says.
“Didn’t I bring Rochelle home once?”
“I guess. But that was a long-ass time ago, and you’re trying to deflect,” Dani says.
Henry abandons his breakfast and folds his arms over his chest, looking like a virtual clone of the man sitting across from him. “Well, we’re going to stay here for a few days and hang out unless you drive us away with your crazy questions.”
Dani rolls her eyes, but she doesn’t push the issue any further. Instead, she says, “Chelsea, let’s have a girls’ night out tomorrow.”
Henry and Sean both groan.
Chapter 19
Four months later—San Francisco
Henry
“I love you, Henry,” she says, stroking my cheek and looking into my eyes.
We’ve just finished making love, and she’s warm and soft against me. I pull her closer, squeezing hard, hoping I can convey how I feel this way because for some bizarre reason, I just can’t seem to say the words back to her.
Chelsea, her head now buried in my neck, sighs heavily, but she doesn’t complain. This is the third time she’s been overcome with emotion, all after we’ve had sex, and told me she loves me. And each time I’ve responded the same way, with silence.
We don’t talk about it afterward. We never do. We just cuddle and kiss and fall asleep. But this time it’s morning, and I’m worried. I have to go soon. If I get right up, without smoothing things over in some way, I could leave her hurting.
I pull back and look at her, tracing her lips with my fingers. She is amazing. So I tell her that. “You are so beautiful, Chels. Sometimes I feel like I’m living in a dream, waking up to you every morning.”
“About that,” she says, propping herself up on her elbow. “I either need a roommate, or I need you to just officially move in and start helping me with rent.”
She’s turned all business on me quickly, and I don’t like it.
“I will help pay the rent,” I tell her.
I can afford it now that my articles, written about the various places we visited while shooting the show, are selling. My money from the show is also still sitting in the bank. And I don’t pay my uncle anything to hang onto my stuff and keep a room empty for me while I spend every night at Chelsea’s.
But this isn’t about money, not really. In fact, Chelsea doesn’t even need to pay rent because she lives in a building owned by her family’s company. She just insists on paying rent on principle.
This conversation is the result of two important and stressful issues for Chelsea. And I know all about it. First, she’s worried the movie she’s currently working on won’t get aired. I know it will, but my reassurances won’t help. She’ll relax once it actually all works out.
But she is also stressed out because she isn’t sure where we really stand. If I officially move in with her, it will mean something to her. And Chelsea needs to know where we are.
The problem is, I don’t know where we are. I am happy every single day with Chelsea. And I don’t want to mess with that. Labels and decisions—these are things that could really screw it all up. So, I’ve been avoiding them. Chelsea has been putting up with it. And I love her for that.
Hell, I just plain love her. I know it. I’ve known it since the morning we sat at my parents’ kitchen table and ate breakfast. I look at Chelsea the way my dad looks at my mom. I’d realized it right then.
And the next night, when my mom, sister, and aunt took Chelsea out, my dad told me he’d seen it, too. I’d simply nodded. I was well aware of what had happened to me. I just didn’t want to say it out loud.
Chelsea looks at the clock beside the bed. “Damn. You have to get going. Don’t you have a meeting with an editor this morning?”
“Yeah,” I say, reluctantly letting her go so I can pull myself out of bed. “What about you? You think you’ll finish polishing up that short you made for PBS?”
“I think I’ll get it done today. But,” she shrugs, “I have until the end of the week. And I have a lunch date today.”
After this declaration, she hops out of bed and goes to the dresser. She pulls underwear and a bra out of the top drawer and head for the bathroom. I follow her. “Lunch date? With Jack?”
She puts her underwear on the back of the toilet and turns on the water in the shower. “No.”
“Candace?”
“No.”
“Your parent
s?”
She shakes her head.
I am getting frustrated. “Hayden?”
“Nope,” she practically chirps. Then she hits the button to make the water come pouring out of the shitty showerhead she’s been putting up with for years now and steps in.
I follow her. “Then who?”
“You haven’t met him.” She reaches for the shampoo, hands it to me, and proceeds to get her hair wet.
“And…who is he?”
“Gary,” she says, swiveling to turn her back to me.
I am in the middle of lathering the shampoo up in my hands when my whole body goes still. “Wait…Gary, your ex-boyfriend?”
“Mm-hmmm. Well, kind of. We were never actually dating, you know. We were just friends with benefits.”
I feel like I just got punched in the gut.
Since I’ve gone still and am not running the shampoo through her hair, as she expects, she turns around to look at me. “What?”
“Why are you seeing Gary?”
“What do you mean, why? I told you we were still friends. We made a lunch date. It’s not a big deal, Henry.”
I will myself to move, turning her around and massaging the shampoo through her hair. “Yeah. Cool. Have fun.”
****
I am officially a major ass. I’ve actually followed my girlfriend to her lunch date. After our shower, while she was getting dressed, I’d peeked in her day planner and found out when and where she was meeting Gary. Then, after my morning meeting, I went to the small café to stalk them.
I stand in an alcove across the street from the restaurant. I’m leaning casually against the building at my back as if it’s perfectly normal to stand here and stare at all the patrons as they come and go.
I know this is awful. I know it’s dishonest, not to mention horrible and ridiculous. But here I am, anyway. I can’t seem to help myself. I am so insanely jealous right now.
Gary is the one person I fear the most. I know he and Chelsea are still close friends. And I know he recently broke up with his girlfriend. She’d spent a few hours on the phone with him a couple of weeks ago after it all went down.
On top of whatever closeness they already share, whatever attraction she holds for him, and whatever kind of sexual tension may still exist between them, I am not giving Chelsea what she needs.