by June Gray
I held my breath, hoping Seth wasn’t about to tell me he loved me and ruin everything. I’d be content with our relationship if we never had to confess anything at all.
“Elsie,” he began, making my head hurt with the expectant look on his face. “I want us to move in together.”
I let out a small breath.
I must have looked shocked because Seth quickly said, “I know it’s huge, but I wanted to let you know that I’m ready to take that next step with you.”
“Seth,” I said, not sure how to respond. My chest ached at the sincerity of his gesture and the hopeful look on his face. “I . . .”
The hope slipped off Seth’s face. “You don’t want to.”
I gently shook my head. “No, it’s not that. It’s just . . . I’m surprised.”
Seth scooted his chair closer to mine and took my hand. “Hey, I know it’s a little soon. I just want you to think about it, then when you’re ready, you let me know.”
A hopeful little glow flickered in my chest but it had been so long since I’ve felt hope that I almost didn’t recognize it until it was too late. “Let me think about it, okay?” I asked, and as I looked at him I wondered for the umpteenth time if Seth was the guy I would grow old with. I didn’t love him like I loved Henry, but Seth was wonderful and reliable. We could live together, maybe even get married, and have a perfectly stable and lovely life. For someone who had experienced so much turmoil in the past several years, stable and lovely sounded like heaven.
* * *
Of course, just when I was finally getting my affairs in order, fate threw a wrench in the form of a phone call.
“Hello?” I wedged the phone between my ear and shoulder while I opened a bag of microwave popcorn, expecting Seth’s voice. He always called after getting home from our dates.
Instead, a gravelly voice from the past said, “Hi Elsie.”
It took me a long time to respond, I was so dumbstruck. “Henry?” I set the popcorn on the counter and grasped the phone before I accidentally dropped it into the sink.
“Hey,” he said, sounding like he had a smile on his face. “How are you?”
“You’re back?”
He chuckled at my shocked tone. “Yes. I got in last night.”
“Don’t tell me you’re back at Tinker,” I said. It didn’t seem likely; hell, I’d even prayed that he be stationed somewhere across the country so that I wouldn’t have to see him again.
“Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that. Can I come over for a bit?”
I was torn, the old Elsie saying yes please and the new saying hell-to-the-no.
“I just want to talk,” he said.
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Okay.”
“Okay I can come over?”
“Sure.”
I jumped at the tapping on my door.
“Knock, knock,” he said into my ear.
I shut off the phone and went to answer the door armed with indignation. “How dare you assume—” The words stuck in my throat when my eyes landed on Henry, seeming larger than I remembered, looking more beautiful than he had any right to be in his jeans and leather jacket. His dark hair was longer, curling around his ears and he looked like he hadn’t shaved in a few days, but he was the same handsome, infuriating guy I’d grown up with.
“Elsie,” he said and scooped me into his arms, momentarily lifting me off my feet as he held me tight. He pressed his face into my neck for a long moment, then, as if remembering what we had become, abruptly let me go. “Sorry about that. Old habits,” he said, stuffing his hands in his pockets.
I fought to catch my breath. I was always caught off-guard when Hurricane Henry blew into town. “That’s okay,” I said, the skin on my neck still tingling. I hated the fact that, after all this time, my body still reacted to him in that way.
“You smell different,” he said, cocking his head a little.
“I’ve taken a few showers since you left.”
“I don’t believe that for a second.” He grinned at me, his blue eyes filled with something that looked like joy. “You’re using a different fragrance. You used to like that citrusy spray from the body and bath store. Now you smell a little pepperminty.”
“Uh, okay,” I said, a little taken aback by his observations. “Are you coming in or are we going to discuss my choice in deodorant as well?”
He walked into the living room and headed straight for my large IKEA bookcase filled with books, movies, and little decorative pieces. He paused at a shelf that held several framed photographs. He picked up one in particular and turned to me with a frown. “You cut me out,” he said, looking at the photograph of Jason and me holding our skis at the foot of a mountain, with my left shoulder—and everything beyond it—trimmed off.
“Do you blame me?” I asked, walking over and taking the frame from his hands and placing it back onto the shelf. “And stop touching my stuff.”
Henry backed away and sat down on the couch. “I come in peace. Honest,” he said, holding his palms up.
I took a deep breath and fought to contain my roiling emotions. It was as if I’d spent the last year rebuilding my life on a stable surface and suddenly Henry was back, flipping everything over.
I stood as far away as possible, folding my arms across my chest. “So what did you want to tell me?”
He ignored my question and looked me over with the sexy sliding look that had always given me a case of the tingles. “Did you go somewhere? You look nice.”
I gritted my teeth. “I was on a date,” I said, hating that he seemed so comfortable while my insides were in upheaval.
He raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”
“Yeah, he took me to Chili’s.”
A muscle in Henry’s jaw twitched but his face gave nothing else away. “Oh?”
“Yeah, he really likes the ribs,” I said, enjoying the fact that I was finally disturbing his calm surface.
His lips formed into a thin line and I almost laughed in triumph. “Have you dated him long?” he asked.
“Three months, give or take,” I said. “Tonight he asked me to move in with him.”
Henry’s blue eyes bore into mine as he waited for me to answer his silent question, but I said nothing. I simply enjoyed his discomfort a little while longer. “Well?” he finally said.
I shrugged. “I’m seriously thinking about it.”
He rose to his feet but didn’t come closer. “I’m out, Els. I’ve separated from the Air Force,” he said hurriedly.
All of the mirth whooshed out of me in one breath. “When?”
“When my tour at Osan ended.” He took one step closer. “I’m a free man. I no longer have to deploy. I can live wherever I want.”
“Where are you going to go?” I asked, finding it hard to breathe all of a sudden.
His eyes were mesmerizing, holding me in place as he took a step closer. “I don’t know yet.”
“What about a job?”
“I have some money saved up, so I can spend some time looking. But I think I want to be in law enforcement.”
I wasn’t surprised to hear his next career choice. “See? You’re an honorable guy through and through.”
His lips bent into a rueful grin. “I’m glad you still think so.” Suddenly, he was in front of me, so close all I had to do was lean forward and I would be touching his chest. “Don’t move in with him, Elsie,” he said.
My anger came roaring back to life. “You can’t tell me what to do,” I said, straightening my spine and pulling away from his gravitational pull.
He rested a hand against my neck. “I’m not telling you,” he said gently. “I’m asking you.”
It took me a moment to find my voice. “It’s no longer your place to ask.” I took a step away and tried to clear my head. “Do you want a beer?” I asked, tur
ning away and escaping to the kitchen.
He sighed. “Sure.”
We sat down at my tiny dining table and I asked questions about what he’d done in Korea to avoid talking about what he was currently doing in Oklahoma. Henry, for his part, didn’t bring up my moving in with Seth again. Instead he leaned his elbows on the table and talked animatedly about his adventures in Asia as easily as if he were talking to an old friend.
I hoped, as I sat across the table, that the round slab of wood was enough distance to keep me from falling again but the erratic thudding in my chest indicated otherwise. The tree had been old judging from the growth rings on the table’s lacquered surface, but its age was nothing compared to my long history with the man sitting across it, a history that was far too ingrained in my identity to ignore.
The conversation came to a natural end around three in the morning. I yawned and stood up, collecting the empty bottles of beer on the table.
“Shit, it’s late,” Henry said, stretching his arms above his head. “I’d better get going.”
“Where are you staying?”
“At a buddy’s place in Norman. His couch smells like ass but it beats the floor.”
A small part of me wanted to offer him the pullout couch, but I knew that doing so would make me a fool. “Well, it was nice to catch up with you,” I said instead and walked him to the door.
He gave me a tentative little hug at the threshold. “You too.”
I closed my eyes and relished the feel of his strong arms around me, catching glimpses of my yesterlife on the back of my eyelids.
“You shouldn’t be with him,” Henry said as he pulled away.
I blinked up at him, momentarily addled. “Who?”
“Your boyfriend.”
“Why not?”
“Because you don’t love him.”
I folded my arms across my chest. Just like that, Henry was back to being a dickhead. “How the hell do you know that?”
One side of his mouth quirked up. “Many things have changed about you, Elsie, but one thing is still the same and that is you still wear your emotions on your face. If you loved him, you wouldn’t blush whenever I touch you.” He pressed a cool finger to my warm cheek, proving his point. God, I hated it when he was right.
“Well who I love is not really your business,” I said, swatting his hand away and stepping back into the safety of my apartment. “Good night.” I moved to close the door when his hand slapped its surface.
“Go on a date with me,” he said.
Despite my racing heart, I tried to play it cool. “I have a boyfriend, remember? We were just talking about him.”
He scratched the back of his head. “I know,” he said, searching for words. “I just . . . I miss you.”
Before, my heart would have soared at his confession; now it just cautiously leapt around a little, afraid to take flight. “I appreciate your honesty but—”
“One date,” he said, holding up his finger. “If, after that date, you decide that you don’t want me back, then I’ll go away. I’ll move to another state.”
I shook my head. “I don’t think a date is a good idea.”
“Give me one chance. It doesn’t have to be a date. It can just be hanging out with an old friend,” he said, grasping my hand. “I know I can make you happier than that guy.”
True, but he could also devastate me to a greater degree.
“Please.”
It was that one word coming from the bossiest man I knew that finally caused me to reconsider. “Okay,” I said. “We can hang out once.”
A wide smile lit up his face, reminding me of the boy I knew so long ago. “Tomorrow?” he asked and pressed a quick kiss to my cheek when I nodded. Then with a wink he walked off into the night. A few seconds later, I heard a loud rumble that sounded suspiciously like a motorcycle, the sound rolling off into the distance.
4
PEACE TALKS
Henry showed up at my door the next afternoon wearing a pair of black sweat pants and a long-sleeved Under Armour shirt, a backpack slung over one shoulder.
I looked down at my own outfit of skinny jeans, a loose cashmere sweater, and heels and wondered where we’d gotten our wires crossed. “I thought we were going to the art museum?” I asked as I stepped aside and let him inside the apartment.
He grinned and kissed my cheek, smelling like fresh sweat. “Sorry, the showers were down at the gym. Can I use yours?”
I tried not to stare at the muscles encased in the tight shirt as I nodded. “The door to the left.”
“I’ll just be a few minutes,” he said, flashing me a grin before rushing off.
I tried to occupy myself with a food show on television but my mind kept wandering off to the naked guy in my shower, the water dripping down his olive skin in rivulets as he rubbed his body down with soap. . . .
I chastised myself. I had a boyfriend and his name was Seth and he was wonderful and funny. Henry was just taking a shower, like billions of people had done before him. The fact that he was naked in my bathroom at this very moment meant nothing.
Nothing, absolutely nothing.
But then Henry came out, dripping wet and completely naked except for the balled-up shirt that he was holding against his crotch. I was pretty sure a little nuclear bomb went off in my nether regions at the sight of him. “Where are your towels?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.
Careful to shield my thoughts, I stood up from the couch and walked past him to the linen closet. “Didn’t you bring one?” I asked, shoving a towel in his chest. I averted my eyes as I walked past him again, though I caught a whiff of his fresh, cool scent.
“Thanks. I never bring one because they usually have them at the gym,” he said. He turned and walked back into the bathroom, deliberately giving me an unobstructed view of his firm ass and muscular thighs.
“Henry, put some clothes on!” I cried as I turned away, his chuckles echoing in the bathroom as he shut the door.
* * *
Ten minutes later we were finally on our way. He was wearing dark jeans, black shoes, and a purple button-down shirt peeking from a gray sweater, and he had shaved. I was little sad to see the stubble go, but clean-shaven Henry was painfully gorgeous in his own right.
It didn’t really matter, I told myself, because I had a boyfriend. What Henry looked like was not the point. He was just a friend and we were just hanging out.
Still, he looked really handsome as he drove the pre-owned Volvo S80 he had recently purchased to the Oklahoma City Museum of Art downtown. I couldn’t help but sneak glances at him, as guilty as it made me feel.
We paid for our tickets separately because I insisted that it would be too much like a date if he paid for mine. He put up a fight, but I was determined to keep it platonic and got my way in the end. It was a quirk of the universe, sure, but it was also because when I really wanted something, I never gave up.
We were walking around the Dale Chihuly glass exhibit when I finally asked, “Why here?” We approached a wall of swirly glass sculptures of different shapes and colors that looked like a collection of frozen underwater creatures.
“This is the most platonic place I could think of,” he said, glancing at me before turning his attention back to the art. “I figured we both hadn’t been here before, so there would be no memories attached to the place to make you uncomfortable.”
We walked through a narrow hallway with a low ceiling filled with the glass sculptures that cast a colorful glow all around. “Memories don’t make you uncomfortable?”
We walked to the middle of the deserted hallway and stopped. He looked up at the hundreds of glass sculptures. “No,” he said, taking my hand. “Our memories give me peace. They give me a sense of identity.”
I looked at the kaleidoscope of colors on his face. “Have you found yourself, Henry?” I aske
d softly, afraid of the answer.
His eyes found mine and he nodded.
I felt relief, sure, but also an overwhelming sense of doubt. “How do you know?”
“Because I feel it,” he said, bringing my palm up to his chest. “I’ve discovered many things about myself, things I never would have known if we were still together.”
“Like what?”
“Like the fact that I love Firefly.”
I cracked up. “You already did before.”
“I know,” he said with a grin. “But I was never sure if it was because you and Jason loved it or if that was my real, honest-to-God opinion.”
I squeezed his hand. “Henry, I never meant to take over your life,” I said. “All I wanted was to be in it.”
He shook his head, his eyebrows drawn together. “It wasn’t your fault, Elsie. I’m the messed-up idiot who thinks too much, who made a mess of everything.” He turned to face me, making my stomach flutter. “I know this guy. All his life he loved this girl who was perfect in every way but just when he finally convinced her to be his and they’re deliriously happy, he went and messed everything up.”
I swallowed down the sob that was ready to erupt. I blinked away the tears that were already starting to form. I chased away the hope that was threatening to explode all over my heart.
“But the thing that this guy finally realized is that, after he made peace with himself, he was still lost without his girl. Like living without one of his femurs, he was incomplete without her,” he said, repeating my words back in Monterey.
I pulled away and walked out of that damn romantic hallway, afraid of his words and of what they did to the coating around my heart.
“Elsie?”
“I don’t know how to believe you,” I said. My legs moved at a fast clip, too afraid to stop moving in case they started to buckle.
“Elsie, stop,” he said, grabbing hold of my wrist, but I twisted away and kept on walking toward the exit. This nondate, as far as I was concerned, was over.