Chapter Thirty-Two - Mirabelle
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Mirabelle
I SHOULD BE celebrating I was able to have an orgasm during oral sex, but instead, I’m contemplating the best way to kill Henry fucking Price. I could strangle him, or maybe slowly poison him. Wait—I know. I’ll drown him in the fucking pool.
I cannot believe he didn’t tell me my parents were coming. I checked my phone, and I didn’t have any texts from Henry about my parents. After Henry checked his, he realized he typed the message, but never sent it. I run a brush through my freshly blow-dried hair as I fix the collar of my turtleneck. There’s a knock on the door, and Henry steps in with an anxious expression on his face. “Can you please come downstairs? It’s really awkward with your parents.”
I give him an unamused look, not feeling bad in the slightest. “At least they didn’t see you having an orgasm. You should have thought about that before you didn’t tell me they were coming. I’ll be down in a few minutes.”
“Can I hide up here with you until then? Please? ” he asks, sitting on my bed.
“You’re twenty-six, Henry. Sometimes we have to face the consequences of our actions, and this is yours. You can’t just leave them down there with Wilson.”
I honestly don’t have much left to do other than swipe some mascara on my eyelashes, but I’m enjoying seeing him squirm. I’m also dreading going downstairs with my parents.
However, this is his fault.
“ Mon c?ur ,” Henry says, trying to sweeten me with his pet name.
“Nope, you better go down there before they think we’re continuing what you started in the pool.”
“I’m pretty sure you started that.”
My jaw drops. He’s not wrong, but it wasn’t my idea for me to sit on the edge of the pool. “No, I was going for a swim. Nobody said you had to join me. Out , Henry.”
Henry looks like he wants to put up just a little bit more of a fight, but I think he knows he has no ground to stand on here. His shoulders drop, and he moves slowly toward the door like it’s his death march.
Actually, it could very well be.
I look in the mirror, noting my lip is still swollen from when Henry bit me earlier. I touch it gently, grateful it isn’t bleeding.
I stall as long as I can, but truthfully, I’m excited to see my parents. I’m just not thrilled they saw more than they should have.
I slip into my boots to head downstairs, wondering if this is how Henry felt.
I make eye contact with Henry first, noting his relief that I’m finally down here. Mom smiles at me, standing to hug me. “Hi, Mira.”
I have a hard time making eye contact with my dad. I’m a little worried he’s going to say something. Instead, he steps forward to hug me tightly, without saying anything at all. I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding, relieved he didn’t start yelling.
Honestly, I don’t think I would blame them if either of my parents did start yelling. They’re being supportive of what they believe is a relationship, but that doesn’t mean they need to catch us in the act.
Dad pulls back, ruffling my hair with a smile. “Are you ready to go?”
“Yep. One car or two?” I ask, trying to act like my parents didn’t just see me naked a half hour ago. Shit, no wonder Henry was trying to hide in my room. They’re being nice, but I feel awkward as fuck.
Two cars would give Henry a short reprieve since he’s been entertaining them or whatever he’s been doing while I was getting ready.
“How about one car? It’ll give us a chance to catch up,” Mom suggests, looping her arm with Dad’s.
Henry’s eyes widen in my direction, and I stifle a laugh. He could be a little less obvious about how nervous he is.
“Perfect.”
My parents sit in the front seat of their car, while Henry and I sit in the back. Henry taps his fingers rapidly on his knee, the only sign that he’s nervous about any of this. I reach over, threading our hands together. He offers me a faint smile as my parents chat about the family trip to France we’re taking for Christmas, where we’ll also celebrate JJ’s birthday.
I’m doing Thanksgiving in New York with Henry’s family, as well as my aunt and uncle, since we’ll be there for the Panthers game against the Stars.
Henry doesn’t let go of my hand until we’re seated at a table in the back of my favorite restaurant, and Mom orders a bottle of wine.
“So are you two attending the charity gala together?” Mom asks, her smile meeting her bright green eyes.
“Yes,” Henry answers, resting his hand on my knee underneath the table.
Emily designed my dress herself. It’s a sleeveless ivory A-line evening gown with fringe sequins and crystal embellishments, but my favorite part is the dramatic slit in the skirt that will show off my Louboutin heels. I’m excited to dress up, but I’m even more excited to see Henry in a tuxedo.
That is of course if he lives long enough to wear his tuxedo again.
“I think we’re all sitting at the same table together if I’m remembering the seating chart correctly,” I say, taking a sip of my glass of wine.
“Owen and Blake will be there too,” Dad says, eyeing the glass in my hand, and I smile at him as he takes a sip of his own.
“I would assume he’d be there as the head coach of the team,” I say, and Mom chuckles.
Dad sets his glass down as Henry takes a drink of his water. “I’m sure as your uncle, he’d also be willing to help me hide a body if I told him what we walked in on earlier.”
My jaw drops as Henry chokes.
Mom gives him a look of annoyance. “Like you’ve never gotten yourself into trouble in a pool before. Leave them alone.”
“Love, that was so long ago. Why do you have to bring it up?” he complains, and if I didn’t want to plug my ears so I didn’t have to hear another word of this conversation, I’d probably ask what Mom’s talking about.
“I’m only saying at least they’re together,” she says amused while Henry continues coughing into his elbow to dislodge the water he’s still choking on. I don’t think my face will ever turn a different color than bright red again.
“This is not about that ,” Dad says. Actually, maybe I do want to ask a question. “I’m just—”
“Bash, this conversation can wait until we at least eat our appetizers,” Mom interrupts, and I’m not sure Henry is even breathing. This is going to be the longest dinner of my life if Henry isn’t going to say more than one word at a time.
I take a longer than appropriate drink of my wine, wishing the effects were immediate as Mom raises her eyebrows. I clear my throat, looking both my parents in the eyes. “Well, we might as well get whatever conversation Dad wants to have over with so we can move on from it. Dad, you guys saw me and Henry, and I’m sincerely sorry you saw that. Someone— and by someone, I mean Henry —forgot to tell me you guys were coming. I wish I could promise it’s not going to happen again, but I think the only way I can guarantee that is if you give both of us a heads-up if you’re coming to visit. Is that it?”
Henry gapes next to me, stunned by my bluntness.
“For fuck’s sake, you are your mother’s daughter,” Dad says, dragging his hands over his face.
“And what exactly is that supposed to mean, Sebastian?” she asks, and I have to hand it to him, Dad’s fast at thinking on his feet. I guess that’s what two decades of marriage can teach you. He smiles at her, tucking a piece of her hair behind her ear.
“That she approaches awkward situations the exact same way you do, love: straight forward. ”
My heart swells as I see my mother melt into my father’s touch. “Nice save,” she murmurs, and it’s moments like this that are to blame for my brothers and me being hopeless romantics. Dad clears his throat, as if remembering we’re in public.
“What I wanted to say was that I hope you are being . . . careful.” He looks like he’d rather die than talk about this, and honestly, me too.
Mom rolls her eyes, shaking her head at him. “What Bash is trying to say, is please make sure you’re using birth control. I don’t think either of you are in a position where you’re ready for a child, and there are means to prevent that, so use them. I’m too young to be a grandmother.”
I manage a nod as Henry finally speaks, probably scarred from this entire evening. I’ll be lucky if he ever dates me for real after tonight. “Yes, ma’am.”
Mom smiles at both of us, and maybe there’s a chance for us to have a normal evening. “Well now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, I want to hear everything.”
“Maybe not everything,” Dad mutters under his breath.
~
My parents left an hour ago, and I tried to lie down because I’m exhausted, but I kept tossing and turning, unable to get my mind to shut off.
I think I’m in way over my head with Henry, and I keep replaying everything that has happened between us.
He looks at me differently than he did a few months ago. He hired a fucking bodyguard for me after telling me how it would wreck him if something happened to me. It’s that he literally calls me his heart instead of a generic pet name like babe or baby. Henry could have picked anything other than a French endearment, but that’s what he went with.
The math isn’t mathing anymore, but maybe I’m confusing the difference between lust and love.
I drag my hands over my face, throwing the covers off me. I snag a sweatshirt to pull over my shirt before quietly escaping my room. I don’t feel like opening a new bottle of wine, so I snag one of Wilson’s beers, popping the top off before going out to sit by the scene of tonight’s crime.
Taking a swig of my beer, I sit down in one of the lounge chairs by the pool, curling my legs underneath me.
Maybe I’m just imagining everything, trying to see what I want to see because I’m in love with Henry and want him to love me back more than anything.
I don’t know what the hell I’m doing.
Maybe JJ’s right. I need to grow a pair and just tell him. For all I know, he could feel the same and be afraid to tell me, but at the very least, I would finally have an answer.
I take a long drink of the beer, and it’s gross, but better than nothing.
“There you are. What are you doing out here?” Henry’s voice asks from behind me, causing my head to turn.
“Couldn’t sleep, so I came out here to think. Were you looking for me?” I ask, feeling a little nauseous at the way my heart skips a beat.
“Yeah, I just . . .” Henry pauses, his cheeks flushing. “I don’t know. What are you thinking about?” he asks, clearly deflecting.
“Something I probably need to talk to you about.”
Am I finally doing this? Shit, maybe being blissfully ignorant is better than knowing.
His face shifts to one of concern as he takes a seat on the edge of the chaise. “What’s up?”
I stall, taking another drink, the bitter taste getting better with every sip before setting it down on the ground. “Actually, never mind. It isn’t important, Henry,” I say, forcing a laugh to play it off, but he isn’t buying it. Shit, why did I open my mouth?
“If it’s something you think you need to talk to me about, then it is important. I’m listening,” he says, offering me a smile that only further jumbles the words in my brain. The woodsy scent of his soap isn’t helping me think rationally, either.
I stand up, needing to move and give myself a little space because I can’t think straight around him. I shake my head, turning away because this is hard— harder than I thought it would be . I am so frustrated because, somehow, I can boldly speak my mind to everyone, except when it comes to Henry. I hate this because I’m not a coward, but what is it about admitting to Henry that I have feelings for him that fucking terrifies me? Well, maybe it’s because there might never be someone else I’ll love the same way as Henry if he rejects me, and loving Henry is as natural for me as breathing oxygen. I’m not ready to find out what it feels like to cut off my oxygen supply. I want to stay in the bubble.
“Thanks, but it’s stupid, I promise. Please, just forget I said anything,” I mumble, my mind racing as I try to think of a way out of this. It’s better to exist in my fantasy world where I have a chance with Henry than to take away my dream of living happily ever after with him.
“Mirabelle.”
But what if he returns my feelings? I can do it. I can be honest with him.
I turn around to face him, my heartbeat echoing in my ears. “Fine. I like you, okay?”
Henry’s eyes widen in surprise, and he just fucking stares at me. Please say something. Please say you like me too. Please say anything. My heart drops as I stare back at him while he stays silent.
Oh my god. I’ve ruined everything.
“It’s fine, Henry. It’s just a stupid crush,” I say, feeling the age difference between us for the first time. At least I didn’t tell him that I love him.
“Mira . . .” he trails off, scratching the back of his neck. This isn’t how I pictured this at all. “I don’t . . .” Henry blinks, staring at me.
I can feel tears threatening to fall, and I blink rapidly, fighting them back. “I get it. You don’t feel the same. Please forget I said anything.”
Henry stands up, taking steps to close the distance between us. “Wait—” Henry reaches his hand out toward me, and I push it away as my feet twist under me, falling straight into the pool. It takes me a second to register that I’ve fallen in the pool, but once I do, I surface, sputtering to get rid of the water that went up my nose.
A hand rests on my shoulder, and I wipe the water out of my eyes, seeing Henry jumped in after me. I shrug away from his touch because, for the first time ever, I don’t want it.
“Are you okay?”
Am I okay? No, I’m not fucking okay. “I’m fine, Henry. I don’t want to be like everyone else in your life that wants something from you. Just go away, please .”
“Hey, don’t do that. I know it’s not like that with you, and I’ve never felt that way. We’re friends, I know you.”
I’ve. Never. Felt. That. Way.
My clothes are sopping wet as I pull myself out of the pool, and the words cut into my soul in a way I don’t think I’ll ever heal from. Henry says we’re friends, but are we? My temper explodes, scattering the broken pieces of my heart. “Then what has it felt like to you? Because it didn’t feel like we were friends when you went all caveman on your best friend while I was dancing with him the other night, or when you told me that my lips were yours to touch, to kiss, and to fuck? What about when you stood in my doorway, calling me incandescent while asking me to let you help me feel more confident during sex? What about the time you got up from your seat on the plane in front of your entire team so Quinn couldn’t sit with me? Or when you look at me like I am everything to you? So tell me, Henry. What the fuck has it felt like to you?”
Henry shakes his head, staring up at me. “I don’t know. I’m sorry.”
That’s all he’s going to say right now? I don’t know? I’m sorry? I bite the inside of my cheek hard, trying to reign in the hurricane of emotions swirling inside me. “I don’t need you to apologize for not feeling the same.”
I really thought . . .
A tear escapes, slipping down my cheek, but it blends in with the rest of my drowned rat look I’m rocking after my little trip to the pool.
Henry moves to climb out of the pool, combing his wet hair out of his face. “Mirabelle, that’s not . . .”
“That’s not what?” I ask, unable to keep the sharp edge out of my voice. He falls silent, water dripping from his clothes that cling to his body as he stops a few feet away from me. “Actually, please just forget I said anything at all. Like I said, it’s not important.”
“It is important, I just . . . I don’t know,” he repeats, and I think I hate those three words more than I hate the word obviously.
“I get it. You don’t know. Why don’t you let me know when you do know something.”
I turn on my heel, stomping inside to retreat to my room, where I should have stayed in tonight, wondering how everything could have gone so wrong.