Chapter Eight - Mirabelle
CHAPTER EIGHT
Mirabelle
SEE, WHEN STACEY said she was releasing an article this afternoon about our “relationship,” I didn’t think she actually meant by three o’clock. Instead of today being all about interviewing Henry, it ended up turning into let’s make sure Mirabelle and Henry know what the fuck their backstory is .
How fun.
The best lies have threads of the truth woven into them, but in this case, the only lie is that my feelings for Henry are real. Of course, he has no idea they actually exist because the one area of my life where I can’t be brutally honest is when it comes to my feelings for Henry.
Stacey asked when I knew I had feelings for him. I instantly thought back to the day I got the small scar on my knee—the one identical to Henry’s. I thought about how I lived for the days when Chris and Penelope were coming over because I knew I’d get to see Henry.
Instead of saying all that, I go along with Henry’s suggestion that it started when he comforted me after my boyfriend broke up with me after the holidays.
When she asked when we started dating, Henry answered that he kissed me at a Super Bowl after-party, and we’ve been secretly dating since.
If only that were true.
We take a break while Henry runs through drills on the field with Quinn and Tyler, as my uncle and the offensive coordinator work on routes. I’m sitting in the stands next to Stacey, going through some of the emails she got today. I’m putting the ones regarding me and Henry into one folder, the ones about Henry into another, and finally, the ones involving the team into a different one.
It’s mindless and boring, but it’s helping me work through my nerves about everything transpiring today with Henry and the awfulness of last night.
Part of the reason I was so upset with him this morning for telling me to stay home—well, stay at his house—instead of coming into work is that I knew if I did, I’d sit around all day doing absolutely nothing but think about someone trying to hurt me and my family. Just like Mom said last night, a house is just a house, but family is irreplaceable.
I need things to be normal.
Too bad nothing about today is normal.
Who knew I was the answer to Henry Price’s problems? Well, I always knew we were supposed to be together, no matter how many times JJ and Emily told me I needed to move on. Maybe it’s irrational to keep hoping after all this time, but I’d say I’m one step closer than I was before. Now, I just need him to see how great it would be to fake date me, and maybe Henry will actually want to date me for real.
Stacey called my PR team, to get them on board before she released a quick statement less than an hour ago, confirming the relationship along with a few minor details about when we got together. JJ, Kaitlyn, and Hunter have been blowing up my phone since, in addition to my best friend, Emily, who has been trying to reach me since this morning. I’ve been screening calls all day because I don’t know what to say to anyone.
The only person in my family who currently knows Henry and I aren’t together is my Uncle Owen. He warned us our parents won’t take it well, but I’m not sure I agree with him. My parents love Henry, and his parents love me, so why wouldn’t they like us together?
I don’t think I can hide this from JJ, but I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it.
This new development has made me even more of a social pariah with the interns. None of them have bothered even looking in my direction. I’m surprisingly okay with it. I don’t want to beg people to be my friends if they don’t want to be.
I’m fucking awesome, even if I don’t feel like it at the moment.
Stacey straightens next to me, causing me to look up from the screen to see what’s attracted her attention.
Oh shit.
Shit, motherfucker, goddammit.
Fuck.
Dad is walking across the field right in Henry’s direction like he owns the goddamn place—I guess he did for years—and Mom is right behind him. “Stacey, are you okay if—”
“You might want to go handle that,” she agrees. I move quickly down the stairs to get onto the field, kicking off my heels after nearly breaking my ankle on the first stair.
Uncle Owen looks up from where he’s talking with the offensive coordinator at the sound of my mom’s voice calling after my dad. “Sebastian, you know your legs are longer than mine, just wait a second,” she shouts, and he stops as Henry turns around. I move faster, cutting in front of them to block their path to Henry.
“What are you guys doing here?” I ask, slightly out of breath and I can feel Henry’s looming presence right behind me.
“Bash? I didn’t know you were coming today . . .” Uncle Owen trails off, and the look of anger on Dad’s face is downright terrifying.
“Are you fucking kidding me? My daughter?” he asks, his voice shaking in anger as he looks directly over my shoulder at Henry.
When I told Henry earlier that we shouldn’t tell our parents this is fake, I was sorely mistaken in predicting how my dad would take it. Uncle Owen was definitely right, they’re not taking this well. “Wait, Dad—”
“Not now, Mirabelle.”
My jaw hits the fucking floor. My dad has never, ever used that tone with me. Mom’s eyes widen in surprise, clearly not expecting that either. “Je sais que tu es en colère, mais tu ferais mieux de te souvenir à qui tu t’adresses.” 11
“Sebastian—” Henry tries to speak, but Dad talks right over him.
“After everything I’ve done for you, this is how you repay me? Sneaking around behind my back with my daughter who is five fucking years younger than you,” he thunders, and I can honestly say, I don’t think I’ve ever seen my father this angry before.
“Look, I know you’re upset, but you need to walk it off. This is not the kind of scene you want to be making, and not the place to be making it,” Uncle Owen warns.
“Owen, he’s—”
“It wasn’t supposed to happen,” Henry says calmly, and I’m not sure if I think he’s an idiot, or if I should be impressed he hasn’t blurted out it’s fake.
“Please, will you just listen to us? We were going to tell you tonight,” I say, and his face turns downright murderous at the use of Henry and me as an us. We’re an us now.
“Is he taking advantage of you?” Dad asks, staring directly at me, and I don’t miss the sharp intake of Henry’s breath at the question. “Mirabelle?”
“Oh my god, no . Dad, it’s Henry. He’d never do anything to hurt anyone, especially me.”
“Tu peux nous le dire, tu sais?” 12 Mom asks, watching me closely.
“You really think that of me?” Henry asks, his voice thick, and I look over my shoulder at him. He looks hurt, and I don’t blame him. If I ever thought my parents would react like this, I never would have suggested keeping it a secret. “I would never hurt Mirabelle. I’d sooner hurt myself than hurt her.”
“You were supposed to be looking out for her! What part of that included screwing her behind our backs? We’ve treated you like you were our own, and this is how you repay us?” Dad lunges forward, bumping into Uncle Owen who quickly steps in front of him, blocking his path. “Owen, get the hell out of my way.”
“So you can what? Beat the shit out of him in front of Mirabelle? Great parenting move—beating up your daughter’s boyfriend, who also is your best friends’ kid. I don’t think so. Walk away, Bash.”
“He’s right. I’m not happy about this either, but this isn’t the time or place.” Mom shakes her head, trying to get Dad’s attention to calm him.
“Sebastian, Thalia, I’m sorry. We were going to tell you. You weren’t supposed to find out this way.” Henry makes a dangerous move and entwines our hands together. His calluses are rough against my own, and his hand dwarfs mine. I think he has a death wish.
My mom has unshed tears shining in her eyes. “Mira, why didn’t you tell us?”
Dad steps back, running his hand through his graying hair. “How long, Henry? How long have you been interested in her? Mira’s twenty, and if you got together at the Super Bowl, she would have been nineteen. You’re twenty-five, about to be twenty-six. Were you just counting the days until she wasn’t a minor anymore so you wouldn’t go to jail for statutory rape?”
“Sebastian,” Mom scolds sharply as my jaw falls open.
Did he actually say that?
“It wasn’t like that. It’s only been a couple months. I swear, I never even saw her like that until recently, and certainly not when she was a minor.”
“She is a kid still. My kid, and you’re taking advantage—”
Oh my god. I can’t listen to this anymore. “That’s enough, Dad! Henry isn’t taking advantage of me, and if you’d stop your rampage long enough to hear what we have to say, you would know that,” I shout, cutting him off. This is a nuclear disaster.
“I’m sorry. Is that what you want to hear? We didn’t mean to hurt you, but Mirabelle isn’t a kid anymore, and realistically, she hasn’t been for a while. I know you’re upset and if you need to hit me to feel better about us being together, then please do. But I like Mirabelle. She’s an incredible, strong, beautiful person that I enjoy spending time with. I wouldn’t risk everything good in my life, including your trust, if I didn’t see something with her. I don’t love that I’m nearly six years older than her, but I am not taking advantage,” Henry says strongly, his voice never wavering. His hand is tightly gripping mine like an anchor I don’t dare pull away from.
I stare at Henry in awe. I have to hand it to him, he’s pretty damn convincing at selling this fake relationship. That’s all I think I’ve ever wanted to hear him say about me. Granted, when I imagined it, I didn’t think it would be because we’re in a fake relationship, but he just stood up to my parents, who were accusing him of grooming me, and offered to let my dad hit him if it would make things better.
Honestly, I don’t think I’ve ever been more in love with Henry Price than I am in this moment, even if the pretty words he’s saying aren’t real.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, a few tears slipping down my cheeks as I look at my dad. He looks at Henry, then at me, closing his eyes as he walks away without another word. The silence packs more of a punch for me than anything he’s said.
Mom steps forward to hug me tightly. I’m slow to return it, not expecting her to hug me. She pulls away, tucking a stray hair behind my ear. “Nous t’aimons quoi qu’il arrive. Donne-nous un peu de temps.” 13
She steps away to follow Dad but pauses to look over her shoulder at Henry. Her mouth opens as if she wants to say something, and I hold my breath. If my father’s words were vicious, I don’t know if either of us can stomach what will come out of her mouth. Instead, she simply shuts her mouth, shaking her head as the look on her face hardens before walking away.
Owen turns to face us, running a hand over his jaw as he grimaces. “I don’t want to say I told you so , but I fucking told you so. Price, your balls must be bigger than your will to live, because I don’t know if I would have kept the secret after that. You must have a death wish. Are you two okay?” he asks, concern filling his features so similar to Mom’s.
I muster a smile, but I don’t know how to say I’m okay, because none of that was okay. I nod, pulling my hand out of Henry’s. I don’t hear his response because I’m walking through the plush grass toward where Stacey is pretending like she wasn’t listening to everything that happened.
~
There’s a knock at the door of my temporary bedroom that I barely register as I devour the romance book I’ve been carrying around in my purse all week. “Come in,” I call out, not bothering to look up from the page I’m on.
I hear the door open, and I glance up to see Henry hovering in the doorway. I guess for Henry I can put the book down. Reaching for my bookmark, I gently set it in the folds of the pages and let the book close as I sit up.
“You settling in okay?” he asks, fidgeting with his hands before shoving them in the pockets of his sweatpants.
“I unpacked hours ago, can’t you tell?” I ask as he glances around the space. “There wasn’t much. I did some online shopping earlier to make up for it, though,” I try to joke, but after the day we’ve had, it falls flat. It’s tempting to smother myself with one of the pillows.
Henry’s mouth tilts upward into a faint smile, at least he’s trying to make me feel like it was funny. We haven’t spoken much since everything with my parents this afternoon. I haven’t known what to say. I feel awful because it was my idea to let my parents think we’re actually together.
“I hate it when people interrupt me when I’m reading so I’m sorry to interrupt you, but someone is here to see you,” he says, his eyes lingering on me. “Where did you find that sweatshirt?” Henry asks, and I look down at the faded Duke sweatshirt that I’m swimming in.
“It was in the closet underneath a sheet?”
He chuckles to himself. “I knew Kaitlyn hid it. She told me she had no idea where it was, and it was here the whole goddamn time. That’s my lucky sweatshirt from when I was at Duke. I wore it every time I had a test.”
I pull the sleeves of the sweatshirt over my hands, unsure of what he wants me to do. “Is it okay I’m borrowing it? I got a little cold an—”
“It’s fine, Mira. I just wasn’t expecting to see you wearing it. I haven’t seen it in months, thanks to my sister.”
“Are you sure?” I ask, hating how weird it is between us now. I’ve always been weird and awkward, but Henry has never tiptoed around me.
He nods, his bright eyes meeting mine as they sparkle with amusement. “It looks better on you than it ever did on me. Hopefully it still has a little luck left in it, I think we could both use some.”
I sigh in relief, sliding off the bed, but I falter in front of Henry. “Hey, Henry?”
Henry looks down at me as I swallow the lump in my throat. “Thank you for earlier. I know how much you look up to my dad, and I’m sorry for everything he said to you. You didn’t deserve any of it, and I hope you don’t believe any of it was true,” I clarify awkwardly. I cross my arms over my chest as if that could protect my heart from how he’s about to splinter it into a million tiny pieces when he says it was all pretend.
“I meant every word, Mira. You’re not a kid anymore—you’re an incredible, strong, and beautiful person. You’re also selfless. I don’t think anyone else would help me the way you are. You had my back today, so of course I had yours.” Henry drags a hand through his hair, the sleeve of twisting ink catching my eye as his arm flexes during the movement. I wonder what it would be like to trace them with my fingertips. “Thank you,” he says, pulling my attention from his tattoos. He leans down to brush his lips over my cheek, sending a spark through my body. I flinch in surprise, causing Henry’s chest to rumble with quiet laughter. “Relax, Mira. No one’s going to believe us if I can’t even kiss you on the cheek without you flinching.”
My cheeks flush because he’s right. “I wasn’t expecting it since we’re at home.” Do it again , I’m tempted to say. I’ll be ready this time.
“Have you changed your mind yet?” he asks, concern marring his handsome face. “That was a lot with your parents earlier.”
Forcing my mouth into a smile at the reminder of that shit show, I shake my head, willing myself to not look as miserable as I feel. “I haven’t changed my mind. We’re doing this. It’ll get easier. You heard my mom—they need some time.” I also heard Dad say a lot of horrible things to Henry that I’m hoping he apologizes for at some point.
I pat his arm reassuringly, internally groaning as Henry raises his eyebrows at me, before slipping past him to see who’s waiting for me. I know it’s not my parents, considering Henry didn’t have a black eye when he opened the door.
My uncle is chatting with Wilson about something related to the team when he notices me. “Hey, Mira, got a couple of minutes to chat?”
“Are you going to tell me I told you so again?” I ask, crossing my arms over my chest.
“I don’t think that’s what you need to hear right now, so it wasn’t my plan,” Uncle Owen says, cracking a smile that helps me relax. I’m not sure I can take another lecture today, it’s been the longest day ever.
“Perfect, then it looks like my schedule has cleared up.” I smile back at him as I hear Henry walk down the stairs behind me.
Uncle Owen steps forward to ruffle my hair like I’m five years old again. “Atta girl, let’s get some ice cream.”
Ice cream sounds like the perfect Band-Aid to soothe the injuries inflicted during the last twenty-four hours. “I think that’s the best idea you’ve ever had,” I say, slipping into my flip-flops next to the garage door.
“Have fun,” Henry calls after us, and I look at him over my shoulder, waving slightly.
“Thanks, Henry. I’ll be back in a little bit,” I say, hesitating to follow Uncle Owen. I let my impulsiveness get the better of me, closing the distance between us to lean in and press a short kiss to Henry’s cheek before I lose my nerve.
He doesn’t flinch like I did, but I don’t miss the sharp intake of breath as my lips kiss the stubble on his cheek.
Would Henry be opposed to me asking if we should practice anything prior to making our first appearance together? The last thing we need after the disaster with my parents is for someone to guess that this relationship is fabricated to make Henry more likable.
Actually, practicing is not a bad idea.
My uncle clears his throat from where he holds the door open for me, and my bravado immediately disappears. Holy shit, I kissed Henry Price’s cheek, and I did it in front of my uncle.
I back away, taking care not to trip over my own feet as I follow Uncle Owen out the door, praying my face isn’t as cherry red as it feels. Thankfully, he cuts me some slack and doesn’t say anything about it.
“What kind are we feeling? Soft-serve or scooped?”
“Either works, but we don’t actually have to get ice cream. I’m okay, so there’s no need to take me out for a treat after a bad day,” I offer, smoothing my hair back down from when he mussed it.
“Honestly, I’d rather take you for a drink, but as your dad so graciously pointed out earlier, you aren’t twenty-one. Ice cream is probably better for you anyway, and I want ice cream. So if it makes you feel better, it’s mainly for me,” he says as I do my best not to backslide into a puddle of guilt and sadness at the mention of earlier.
“If you insist,” I agree, sliding into the passenger side of his BMW.
He pulls out of the driveway, staying unusually quiet. I don’t like it. It’s abnormal for Uncle Owen to be quiet, and I know he has something to say about all this. He can’t fool me. “Just say it,” I say, and he rolls his eyes.
“I hope you know how much you take after your mom. She’s done the same damn thing since we were kids.” Uncle Owen chuckles, tapping his hand on the steering wheel, but I’m waiting for him to get to the real reason we’re going for ice cream. “Okay, fine. I know you care about Henry, but you don’t have to go through with this fake relationship if you don’t want to.”
“I know I don’t have to, but I want to help Henry. If this is what he needs, then I guess the fake relationship needs to happen. I never thought my parents would hate the idea so much.”
“Your parents love you. God, Mira, you have no idea how much they love you,” Uncle Owen says. “They’re not perfect. Sometimes they are so far from perfect, the only thing they resemble is a walking disaster.”
I look down at my hands, cringing at the sight of the chipped pink polish on my fingernails from picking anxiously at them today. “I know they love me, and I don’t expect them to be perfect. I expected them to at least hear us out.”
“Not their strong suit I’m afraid.”
I turn to him, wondering what exactly he means by that. I’m not sure if I asked him, though, whether he would tell me. “Why were they so mad at Henry? I thought they loved him.”
“They do, but they love you more,” he says, glancing over at me after stopping at the red light. “I can’t pretend I understand all their decisions. What makes the most sense to me and Blake, is it caught them off guard. Henry has always played the role of a big brother in your life, and they trusted him with you. Five years doesn’t seem like that big of a deal to you, but I guarantee you that Bash is replaying every time they’ve left you alone with Henry. At some point, you were thirteen and he was eighteen, or fifteen and twenty.”
“But it’s never been that way between us,” I defend Henry, and Uncle Owen’s hands go up in defense.
“You asked why they were mad, and that picture Stacey painted today was pretty damn believable, even if it’s not the truth. Just because you know Henry didn’t groom you, it doesn’t mean your parents are wrong for considering it could have happened. Sometimes the people closest to you are the ones that can do the most damage,” Uncle Owen says wisely, and I’m dumbfounded by how much that makes sense. “They’re worried. The fire last night has them both on edge, and I’m not speaking for your dad because I’ve always thought he was an idiot, but they’re good people, Mirabelle. They’ll come around.”
I never thought about it from their perspective.
“Oh.”
“It’s a bit more complicated than you realize, but it’s their job to look out for you. Yeah, they reacted poorly, but if you look on the bright side, no one was hit,” he jokes, trying to lighten the mood in the car.
It’s so incredibly not funny, the only thing to do is laugh. “Yeah, only because you body blocked my dad.”
“Take the win where you can get it, missy.”