“It looks like you hit your head,” Leticia sighs, moving her free hand to touch the back of my head. “Get her some ice,” she tells Andrew before addressing me. “You need to lie down.”
“No, the presentation,” I protest, but she gives me her sternest look.
“The Kendishes saw the fall,” she says, patting my hair in a motherly way. “Please, go and rest. I’ll do this, and then we can go over whatever they say. Go lie down.”
“Leticia, I’m fine,” I say, but she won’t listen. She’s making sure that the newest potential clients know that I’m a klutz and that I’m just fine. “Fine,” I whisper, trying not to look too dejected.
“I’ll take her,” Henry says while I try to pull away, but the dizziness gets worse.
“You’ve done enough,” I hiss. Henry ignores me and lifts me up in his arms in a swift movement.
“I think she needs to go to the hospital,” he says, ignoring the scoff that just escaped my lips.
“Maybe that’s for the best,” Leticia agrees, pointing to my head. “You have a bruise.”
“I’m fine.” The dizzy spell continues making everything around me look like the reflection in a mirror inside a fun house.
“I’ll take her to A&E,” Henry says, walking to the elevator with me in his arms.
“I’m fine, put me down.”
“Are you going to fall on your head again?” he asks with a concerned look.
“Of course, not.” I glare because the movement’s making me nauseous and dizzy again.
“I’m taking you to the hospital,” Henry says with finality, refusing to settle me on my own two feet.
***
The doctor stares at me with a frown. He’s letting his fingers feel the bump at the back of my head when the nurse walks in with more ice.
“Dizzy and nauseous?” he asks, and I reply with a simple yes.
“Any blurriness?”
“No.”
“Okay, you should not work for the next twenty-four hours, and just try and rest. If there’s something, anything that you’re concerned about, you should return to A&E and let one of the consultants check you again. For now, all I can say is that your husband should make sure you’re fine and rested,” he explains, turning toward Henry, who nods. “I’ll go get the aftercare information sheet so we can discharge you.”
“He’s most definitely not my husband.” I glare, but the doctor’s ignoring me.
“I think she’s slightly amnesic,” Henry says. “I promise I’ll keep her under observation for the next day,” he says confidently, and the doctor then jots something down on a script paper.
“Give her these for the pain,” he says, handing the note to Henry, who diligently takes it, still not telling the doctor he’s not my husband.
Once the doctor and the nurse leave, I let hostility take over. “You’re not my husband,” I say, dangling my feet over the side of the bed.
“No, but they don’t care about that,” he says, moving closer to help me.
“Let go of me; I’m fine.”
“You’re still dizzy; I can see it in your eyes,” he says, glaring back at me. Undeterred, he helps me up. “I’m taking care of you for the next twenty-four hours, no arguing.”
“I don’t want you to,” I reply, aggravated.
“It’s not open for debate.”
“I’ll scream.”
“Please do, then the doctor will think the injury is worse and keep you in here,” he says while his finger flicks my nose. “By all means, do it.”
“You idiot,” I reply.
“I know you’re angry at me…”
“No shit, Sherlock,” I huff, looking away from him.
“I’m trying to make it up to you,” he says softly. “Will you please let me?” And just like that, my resolve crumbles when my eyes meet the concern in his.
***
The rain that started out like a thin sheet of nothingness has turned into a full-blown annoying storm. Every lightning bolt that decides to make its grand entrance into our world illuminates the bedroom, making the room look creepy as hell. I pull at the duvet covers and then lean against the pillows again, finding it hard to fall asleep.
My phone’s been ringing on and off, with Henry taking messages that he won’t even show me. I can hear him in the distance, grunting now and then, afterwards mumbling to himself. When the phone rings once more, his voice is slightly muffled; it seems that he’s in the ground floor, but the swearing is quite clear.
“Yes, hello,” he answers before an exasperated sigh carries to the bedroom that I’m in. “Yes, this is Gracie’s phone. She’s unfortunately unable to come to it. She had a slight concussion at work today,” he explains before he goes deathly quiet. “One second,” he finally answers and I can hear his stomping footsteps moving up the stairs. It sounds like a stampede coming my way.
Henry stands in the hallway, clearing his throat and then walks toward me. His hand places the phone on the tray next to the bed before moving his head in a slight nod to the phone. Without a word, he then turns on his heels and walks out of the room before slamming the door shut behind him.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
I look at the phone, confused, before lifting it up and noticing Tom’s name on the screen. ‘Hello?”
“Are you okay? Leticia told me what happened,” he says in one breath.
“I’m fine. Just need to be in bed for twenty-four hours. I guess the doctor thought that would cure my clumsiness.” I laugh awkwardly, though that action makes my headache worse.
“Good thing Henry was there,” Tom says and I detect a slight trace of something that could be jealousy or regret.
“Yes, well, he sort of got in my way,” I say, looking out the window as another lightning bolt falls near us. “It’s just karma that he has to take care of me.”
When Tom says nothing, I clear my throat. “Was there something you needed? Did you want to talk about the new script?”
“I just-I wanted to talk about last night.” It seems he’s uncomfortable bringing this up and I wonder if he also has regrets. “However, there are too many people around for that,” he adds in a more serious tone. “And I would like to see you face-to-face before spilling my guts out.”
“Day after tomorrow?” I say without thinking.
“Sure.”
“Oh, no, wait. I have to pick my friends up from the airport. What about Friday?” I ask, hoping that that’s not too long a wait.
“Friday, it is.” There’s disappointment in his voice, but also elation. “And, Gracie…”
“Yes?”
“I can’t wait to see you then.”
“Friday,” I repeat automatically before hitting my forehead with my phone.
“What’s happening Friday? You’re ditching the Trinity for a guy?” Henry asks, bringing in a tray of food.
“You don’t have to cook for me; I can get something myself,” I say without answering his question.
“The doctor said you need to rest and you’re still dizzy — your eyes look weird,” he says, sitting on the edge of the bed after placing the tray on the table. “So, who’s the bloke?”
“He’s a friend,” I say, and Henry arches an eyebrow. “I would prefer to be home.”
“Yes, well, I would prefer you stop being a stubborn princess and eat. I guess we can’t have everything we want right now.”
“We can, you just need to stop being an asshole about it,” I say without being able to stop myself. Henry looks at me with quiet fury in his eyes. “It’s about high time you stop being a dick to me.”
“I’m being a dick? I apologized to you,” he says, fists closed while he looks away.
“Franky is so right.” I let my spoon push the soup around.
“Franky? You went to talk to Franky about us?”
“There is no us, Henry,” I say, seeing then how much the statement has cut through him.
“Of course, not,” he says, quickly recovering
. “If you’re feeling better, I’ll call you a cab.” He leaves the bedroom before I swear under my breath.
***
My fingers examine the bump that has noticeably reduced in size since the fall yesterday, but it’s still there. At least, the dizziness disappeared after the first twenty-four hours, and though I had to lie in bed in the dark alone in my flat, it was a lot better than being at Henry’s.
Unfortunately, even though he’s still acting like an asshole, Henry wouldn’t let me come to Heathrow on my own to pick my friends up from the airport. Around us, the crowd talks in hushed whispers as they zip in and out through the maze of people waiting on the New York flight passengers.
“Here,” Henry says, giving me a large frappuccino and then he stands beside me.
“You didn’t have to come,” I say before thanking him, neither of us making eye contact.
“Well, let’s say that I thought it would be better if you didn’t have to take the tube with them. If they’re anything like you, they probably packed for a year.” There’s a smile in his voice, but I don’t turn to look at him.
“Watch it,” I warn him. “If they heard you, you would be uninvited to the party.”
He laughs, clearly not bothered. “So, are you seeing Tom tonight?” he asks. I shrug, not wanting to talk about Tom right now.
“I thought you said you didn’t care one way or the other,” I answer.
“I’m bored,” he says, looking at me. “Come on, indulge me.”
“Friday,” I reply, noticing that the arrivals from New York are finally trickling out through the double doors. “Come on.”
“So, who is this Tom?” he asks again, but I don’t answer.
“You know, Bernie and Diana will probably need two of the trolleys for their luggage.” I look around for them.
“You’re dodging the question like it was a loaded gun,” he says once we stop near the luggage carts.
“He’s someone that I shouldn’t be seeing,” I state, noticing the frown on his face.
“Shouldn’t?”
“I really don’t want to talk about this.”
“Wait? Is it?” I can see the wheels turning in his brain before his mouth hangs open. “No, Graciela,” he says, looking right in my eyes before I manage to escape from them. “You wouldn’t be that stupid,” he says, and I kick his shin. Rubbing it, he lets out a bark laugh. “You’re insane. If Leticia finds out you’re shagging a client…”
“It’s not shagging. It happened once.” The irritation makes my voice shake when I notice how taken aback Henry looks by my words. “Please, don’t tell her.”
“I won’t. Not even if I think you’re completely daft,” he says, glaring before turning his back to me.
“I guess a thank you is in order, then,” the sarcasm drips from my voice.
***
Although they moan constantly about growing older, Diana and Bernie haven’t aged that much since the last time we saw each other when we went skiing in Chamonix four years ago. Diana’s long black hair is curled to perfection; a red dress hugs her curves in the right places, even though she will probably confess to wearing spanx under it. Bernie and I still don’t believe that she needs it. She looks like a movie star ready for her close-up even after a transatlantic flight. Bernie’s not far behind, her golden hair styled in a pixie haircut. She’s lithe and still has the body of a ballerina, moving with elegance as if she was on the stage.
“Darling!” Diana says loudly before wrapping her arms tightly around me, then stepping back to assess my appearance.
“Hi, D.” I smile the moment she lets go of me and then stares at me, assessing my appearance.
“You’re so pale.” She frowns and I can’t help but laugh.
“That has nothing to do with the bump on my head, and everything to do with the lack of sun,” I explain while Bernie gives me a bear hug.
“You look fab.” Bernie nods to the man who’s helping them with the luggage. “I hope this all fits in the black cab’s trunk.”
“Well, I asked Henry to come pick you up with me. He’s got a rather big SUV…”
“Is that a euphemism for something else?” Bernie asks, giggling, and I wish the ground would open and swallow me whole.
Chapter Forty
My cheeks warm in embarrassment as I can’t help but join in the laughter. However, it quickly vanishes when I hear Henry’s voice.
“Yes, Henry has a rather big SUV, which coincidentally he only ever drives in the countryside,” Henry chimes in with a smirk as both Bernie and Diana turn to look at him, and it’s like both of them have forgotten how to blink and talk.
“Henry, these are my friends, D — Diana — and Bernie,” I say.
“Hi, Henry. Wow, we-we’re,” Diana says, looking at me before staring at Bernie, who seems to be trying to grasp the concept that this is my best friend.
“So glad that you can make it to the party,” Bernie says, turning to look at Diana with no subtlety at all and mouths: wow.
Henry doesn’t need to tell us twice before we’re sitting inside the comfortable SUV, and he’s dealing with the luggage. Diana and Bernie don’t travel light, but at least, they didn’t bring loads of suitcases.
As we sit down, Diana arches an eyebrow expectantly as I clear my throat. “What?”
“You never said he was the Henry Huntingdon,” she whispers, and I stare at her, befuddled.
“So are you…” Bernie whispers before moving her hips back and forth in the seat. A nervous laugh escapes me as my cheeks flush.
“He was totally checking out your ass,” Diana offers. Henry closes the back of the SUV and then walks around it to climb inside.
“No, he wasn’t.” I say, my face flushing.
“Strap on, ladies.” Henry smirks, glancing at them. “It’s the law,” he adds with a wink before turning around and gluing his eyes to mine for a moment before he looks to the road.
The traffic outside Heathrow is bad, almost bumper to bumper, but thankfully, not for long. Diana and Bernie haven’t shut up asking questions about where we’re going, how long is it till we get to the house, and most importantly, whether or not he’ll be willing to help them get a band for my party.
All of a sudden, I’m painted on the wall, wondering if the interrogation will ever cease.
Henry looks happy to be back in his home, where he’s actually putting Diana and Bernie up in the small flat in the garden until their husbands and kids come over. After transporting all of their suitcases there, he makes sure to show them all the amenities before he walks back to the main house while I watch him.
“You’re so crushing on him,” Diana says once she and Bernie sit down and I close the front door to look at them.
“I’m not,” I deny, forcing myself not to glance back to see him walking away. “I’ve been shagging him since Jared and I broke up.” My confession makes Bernie, who is drinking water, choke on it and splutter it everywhere.
“What?” Diana asks, patting Bernie’s back to try and stop her from coughing. “How come you didn’t tell us? Is it serious?”
“No.” I bite my bottom lip and then shrug. “Franky introduced us at my twenty-first… that much you already know. It just happened. He didn’t want anything serious; I was getting over Jared.” Bernie shakes her head.
“It’s not sex, that’s a relationship. Nine years and you didn’t think of telling us? Oh, my God, and here I was going on and on about setting you up with someone.” She sighs as Diana pats her back.
“I don’t even know what to say. I mean, seriously, I’m annoyed that you wouldn’t trust us enough to tell us, but he’s so hot.” Diana clasps her hands together. “Are you sure that you’re not in a relationship, because why else would he be single? And you, you’re still single, sleeping with that awesome specimen of a man.”
“I can assure you, it’s not like that.” I bite my tongue. “Besides, he’s seeing someone now and I’m also seeing ...” I let my voice trai
l off, but it’s too late, I can see the curiosity in their eyes. “It’s just too early to tell if this could turn into a relationship,” I reply, glancing to the house just to make sure Henry’s not coming back.
“You’re seeing someone? Who?” Bernie asks and I turn to look at them.
“An actor,” I say. “He’s a nice guy…”
“An actor? Really, after Jared?”
“He’s nothing like Jared,” I say because, after all, I’m his agent and I should defend him. “Also, he doesn’t need to go find himself in Thailand,” I say, referring to my last boyfriend, the Spanish guitar player, Pedro.
“Oh, that’s biting.” Bernie stares at me. “First time ever,” she adds, but I still refuse to comment on the aftermath of that particular breakup.
“So, what are you going to do with Henry and the actor?” Diana crosses her long legs and then smirks, leaning against the sofa.
“What do you mean? There’s nothing going on with Henry.”
“That’s not how it looks like to us,” Bernie intervenes.
“I don’t mind how it looks to you,” I say, turning around to walk to the door.
“Well, I would,” Diana says. “I mean, if this actor comes to your birthday party, the moment he sees Henry and you… let’s say Fight Club.” She smirks.
“You really need to go out more often.” I open the door.
“Later,” their voices carry until I reach the main house, and I’m thankful at least from here, Henry can’t hear them plotting to get us together.
Henry’s playing piano in the middle of the lounge, unaware that I’m back. I move slowly behind him until I’m closer to him, and the moment I’m about to poke him with my finger, he grabs my wrist.
“Do you really think you can sneak up on me?” he asks, holding on tight to my wrist the moment I try to pull away.
“I thought you were concentrating,” I reply, trying to yank my hand away from his grip, but I can’t. “Henry…”
“What?” he asks with the most innocent of smiles.
“Let go,” I say. Instead, he pulls me closer until I’m sitting on his lap.
“You’re not fighting that much,” Henry says in a sly tone, and I press my back against his chest when his arms surround and pull me closer.
Henry and Gracie Page 16