22. “Never Forget You” - Zara Larsson MNEK #2
Henry grabs a pink-and-white sphere and tosses it into the air, catching it again with ease. “I trust you,” he says, and winks.
“Henry!”
He assumes a look of innocence before setting the ball back into the box. “What? She’ll never know if a few go missing. There must be hundreds here.”
His good mood is rubbing off on me despite my best efforts. “In that case, we’d better get started. Do we have lights?”
We’ve got lights on the tree, the first box of ornaments emptied, and some preliminary ideas in place for refilling the royal household’s coffers. Our only disagreement has been over the seabed mineral rights.
“Okay, we’ll scrap that idea for now,” Henry says.
I glance over at him. Even perched on a stool he has to strain to reach the top branches of the tree. His right arm inches upward, and I see the small tattoo on his upper arm, a calligraphic black C with hydrangeas twining around it. I inhale sharply, and he turns his gaze to me.
“You okay?” he says.
I nod, momentarily scrambling for words. “Um, actually, what if we did a trial run on the mineral rights? Maybe find a sustainable and responsible company to do some testing, see what’s there.”
“Great idea.” He points to the box of ornaments. “Mind handing me a few more of those?”
I gather a small armload and carry them to the ladder. The lower branches are mostly covered by now, meaning the rest will need to go up high. I hand him a sea-green finial. His fingers brush over mine as he takes it, sending an electric shock up my arm.
“I’m sorry about earlier.” His eyes hold mine. “I was an ass.”
I flush as I recall his pregnancy question. “It’s fine. You were just worried.”
He turns back to the tree to hang the finial. “Was there . . . someone else?”
I’m pretty sure my face outshines the glass balls around us right now. “You know there wasn’t.” I hand him another ornament.
He lets out a deep breath, as if he’s been holding it for a while. “I’m not going to pretend that isn’t a huge relief.” There’s a note of discomfort in his tone when he laughs.
We’re quiet for a few minutes as he hangs the rest of the decorations. I do my best to hand them to him with minimal touching. The brush of his fingers does things to my pelvic region better left unexplored. It wouldn’t take much for my common sense to flee the premises.
Henry climbs down from the ladder, but instead of moving toward the outlet to plug the lights in, he edges toward me until our toes are touching. My blood is rushing through my body like a bullet train. I can’t stop the trembling in my hands.
He tilts my chin up with a finger, and I meet his gaze, his eyes dark and gentle, his face beckoning me to relax. This is Henry, my one-time best friend, my short-time lover, my all-time nemesis. He holds more of my secrets than anyone else on the planet.
“We are literally living my nightmare,” he says.
I swallow loudly, my mouth suddenly dry. “What, a Christmas tree in the living room?”
He tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear. Goosebumps flood my face and neck. “For years I’ve tried to protect you. And now it’s like the whole fucking world is conspiring to tear you away from me.”
I think about everything he’s done in the past few weeks.
The gestures, the protection, the worry, the thoughtfulness.
He said he loves me. Maybe he actually does.
Maybe there’s a part of him that can actually override the twisted side, at least for a while.
After all, no one is that good of an actor, right? Eventually, we all slip up.
Maybe there are more things than the mineral rights that can be considered on a trial basis.
I move closer, until my nipples brush against him. The sensation is incredible, but I can’t focus on that right now. “What if I was willing to try?” I say, biting my lip. I’m pretty sure I know how he’s going to respond, but that doesn’t stop my pulse from racing.
His eyes narrow as he focuses on me and what I’m offering. “What changed?”
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. This is one question I haven’t prepared for. “Maybe I had a change of heart,” I say with a shrug.
Henry crosses his arms over his chest, which draws my eyes. Curse those damn biceps. “So you no longer think I’m trying to hurt you? Or sleep with your sister?”
“Bea told me what you said.”
He looks off to the side in disgust. “So you believe her, not me.”
“What do you expect? You’ve lied to me so many times, I don’t even know what the truth sounds like coming from your mouth.”
A vein in his temple throbs. “I have proven myself to you over and over. I shouldn’t have to keep doing it.”
“I said I believe you. Or . . . I’m choosing to be optimistic.”
“‘Choosing to be optimistic’? God, are you listening to yourself right now?” He starts pacing the room, hands on his hips. “You can’t build a relationship without trust, Celia.”
“I’m ready to try.”
“It doesn’t work like that. One wrong move and you’ll be out.”
“You’re the one with commitment issues, not me.”
“I do not have commitment issues,” Henry growls. “I’ve been in love with you for the past fifteen years. If that’s not commitment, I don’t know what is.”
I roll my eyes. “Not exactly what a woman dreams of.”
His fingers plow rows through his hair. “What do you want from me, C?”
“I want you to give us a shot.”
He looks down at the floor and shakes his head. “Not if you don’t trust me.”
“I do.” Or at least I can fake it.
“Prove it.” He stalks over to me, thrusts his hands across my jawline and into my hair, and buries them there like a stake in the ground. His lips meet mine, hard and vicious. I clamber for breath, but he won’t give it to me.
He pulls me closer, his lips not leaving mine for even a second. Our teeth clash together, and it’s all I can do to stay out of his way. His tongue forces its way into my mouth, exploring every inch like a conqueror surveying his lands.
His hands are still cradling my head, but that doesn’t keep him from pressing my body against his as tightly as possible.
Then, so suddenly I barely have time to gasp, he wraps an arm around my waist and turns me until I’m up against the dining table.
The wooden edge cuts into my back as he pushes against me further.
Grabbing my thighs, he lifts me onto the table, then fills the space between my legs with himself.
He leans me back with one hand behind me, and I can feel tissue paper being crushed by our bodies.
In all this time, he hasn’t once let me come up for air, claiming my mouth like it’s a prize won through blood and tears.
I can already feel my lips grow swollen and the chafing from his stubble.
He’s leaning over me, his weight nearly pressing out what little air I have left in my lungs, when he suddenly pulls back. Then he leaves me lying across the table like some kind of tramp while he walks away and wipes his mouth.
I catch my breath and slowly sit up. The paper rustles around me. “Care to explain what the hell that was?”
Henry turns back to me, hands on hips. “That was a test. Which you failed.”
“Excuse me?”
“I told you to prove you trust me. You resisted the entire time.”
“Because you practically mauled me! What was I supposed to do?”
He walks closer but remains a foot away.
“Remember the last time we had sex? You completely surrendered to me. I had just saved your life, and you trusted me with everything.” As he steps closer, I can smell the spearmint on his breath, can still taste it on my tongue.
“I know the difference between surrender and resistance. And the last thing you are is surrendered.”
My jaw tightens. “Maybe I was performing a test of my own.”
“Yeah, I gathered that. But it doesn’t work that way. I’m not some bloody business proposition. You can’t take me for a test drive, see how well you like the steering. You’re either all in, or you’re out.”
“Dating is, by definition, a test drive.”
He props his hands on either side of me on the table and leans down until we’re at eye level with each other.
“I am not interested in dating you. I already know you’re the only person I want to spend the rest of my life with.
I would take a bullet for you. I nearly did—and I’d do it again.
I haven’t looked at another woman in months.
I have proven myself to you in as many ways as I know how, and if that’s not good enough for you, you need to walk away right now, not string me along for six months before deciding I’m not what you want.
” He stands up straight. The air is charged with electricity and devoid of oxygen.
I’m still panting, trying to grab hold of my racing heart.
Henry stares at me for a few more seconds, then walks toward the hallway. Near the kitchen, he stops and turns. “Your heart isn’t the only one capable of being broken, you know.”