Chapter 18 Henri
Henri
Water spreads across the table in front of Juniper. Shards of her cup shimmer all around her, some managing to land on the serving plates, making the remainder of the meal inedible.
“Stay there,” Ally directs.
“I’ll get the broom!” Liam leaps out of his chair. I have to shake myself from my state of shock before I follow after him.
What the hell does his dad mean Liam’s taking over the resort? Liam has a job that he loves and an entire life back in New York. And he’s expected to do . . . what? Just drop it and come back here?
I catch up to Liam in the kitchen as he’s pulling open a cabinet with cleaning supplies.
“Do you think I should grab a bag, or would that be hazardous?” He reaches in and picks up an empty dryer sheet box. “Maybe put it in this first?”
“I think you should tell me what the hell is going on,” I say. I hate feeling stupid and in the dark and right now I feel both of those things.
His shoulders sag as he turns to me. “I was planning to tell you. I tried in the car, but Pen ran up out of nowhere.”
“This is something you should have told me about weeks ago. I need to know these things or I’ll look like I don’t know you.
A girlfriend wouldn’t go on defending a job you aren’t going to have soon.
When are you quitting?” What I’m feeling right now isn’t the standard fleeting irritation that comes when my clients fail to disclose important information.
No, it’s an ache that plunges deep into my chest.
“I was already supposed to be done, the original article we did was just to fill a spot that opened up because the person assigned to it went into labor. But then Fallon requested this follow-up article and I couldn’t say no.”
“I thought you trusted me?”
“I do; it’s complicated. Let me help clean up and then we can talk and I can—” His mouth slams shut and he looks over my shoulder as shoes clack onto the tile behind me.
“The box is smart.” Ally comes up beside me and grabs the dryer sheet box.
“Sorry the little celebration got cut short.
I know it was supposed to be a big secret, but I heard June talking to your father the other day about the resort.
She's been so helpful, making sure everything was ready for you, so I know she must feel awful for ending dinner that way.”
“Is there anything I can do to help?” I ask.
“No, we’ll take care of it. But it’s sweet of you to offer.”
“Of course. I’m going to head upstairs and unpack and turn in early.”
I can tell Liam wants to keep talking, but I need to calm down before I see him again. What’s wrong with me? I’m usually great at letting this shit roll off my back, but this feels like a small betrayal.
Up in the guest room, it takes me all of five minutes to unpack the already-folded clothes into the top drawer of the dresser. I change into a matching flannel pajama set before washing my face and brushing my teeth in the small en-suite bathroom.
Back in my bedroom, my phone lights up with new texts from Iris.
Iris
So, how’s it going?
Iris
You haven’t fallen off a mountain, right? Because I really don’t want to cover rent by myself.
Me
I’m here. We’re fine(ish). And it’s really pretty. Like a Hallmark billionaire. Nice.
Without having a closer look at the resort, I know this is the case.
There was a time I’d travel to places like this with Kurt and Laura.
That last Christmas, just before everything went to shit, we were supposed to go on a ski trip.
Nothing special, something we did at least twice a year.
We would spend thousands of dollars without batting an eye.
I was packing when Mom called. I had been prepared to tell her to call back later, but then she told me I was needed back home, her voice choked with tears.
But that feels so distant now. Almost like that wasn’t my life at all, just a story someone told me once.
Iris
Work your sugar daddy for all it’s worth (obviously I mean Spitfire)
I snort a laugh before navigating to my work email to distract myself.
I find a few inquiries and three more cancellations that I draft responses for.
It’s a good thing I didn’t blow up this thing with Liam.
At this rate, nothing’s predictable. I schedule the emails to be sent tomorrow morning, before moving to my personal one, that I’ve neglected to check for at least a week.
There are three emails from the university’s registrar, all with urgent bold subject lines that scream ACTION NEEDED. Only three? They must have slowed down for the holidays. How considerate.
Before fully turning in, I wrap a robe around me and pad downstairs for water. I’ve had enough experience rummaging around in other people’s cabinets under similar circumstances that it doesn’t take me long to find the cups. I grab one with Snoopy wearing a Santa hat printed on it.
A light is on out back, and at first I think it’s a motion-sensing one, but then I see the steam rising out of the fenced-in area. Stepping closer to the window, I see him.
Eyes shut, broad shoulders stretched with his arms spread wide along the lip of the hot tub.
A crease cuts between his brows and tension ripples through his exposed chest—freckled like the rest of him.
God. That chest. He might not be a pro-athlete anymore, but it doesn’t seem like his body got the memo.
Rivulets of water cling to his skin, a few rolling lazily down his body, from the cut of his jaw down his neck and—
Shit.
Brown eyes lock on me and I nearly jump back. Okay. Great. Now he’s seen me lurking in the shadows, staring at him.
Sorry, Liam, I was just looking at you the way people admire Roman statues, could you just stay there looking all hot and moody while I grab a sketchbook?
He waves at me—a swift, casual flick of his fingers.
I wave back, take a breath, and head toward him. The sliding door sticks as I shove it open, and the stone path is brutally cold against the bare soles of my feet.
“Come on in, the water’s fine,” Liam says. He gazes at me through half-lidded eyes.
“I’m good.”
“I can literally hear your teeth chattering.” He stands, revealing a teal pair of swim trunks that suction to his thighs. Steam drifts off his skin. “I’ll pick you up and put you in here if I need to.”
Tempting as that offer is, I climb the small ladder myself. “Fine. Since when did you get bossy?”
“Since you walked out here in zero-degree weather.”
I fight back a smile as I settle on the edge, feet burning at the initial shock of heat. The water hits up to my mid-thigh, and I pull the top of my robe tighter around me while the rest trails behind me. “There you go again, worrying about my well being.”
“Obviously, someone has to.”
“What about you? I should have asked how you were doing after what happened.” Instead, I got mad at him. Not because of my work, but because I truly thought we were close enough that he’d disclose the information about him taking over the lodge.
“I’m fine.”
“Historically, that’s what people say when they’re not fine,” I say and make sure to soften my voice as I continue. “It’s okay if you aren’t. I’m here for the not okay bits too. That’s why I’m here.”
I’ve found that people are rarely “fine” for their own sake.
More often than not, it’s because they don’t want to make other people uncomfortable, or feel obligated to share their emotions.
And Liam is the prime example of someone who’d fold himself up as small as possible if it meant making others more comfortable.
He slaps his hand through the water, sending a spray to hit the exposed skin of my thighs, my shorts now barely covering my ass.
“I wish he had held off long enough for us to at least get settled in. I really did mean to tell you, I just kept putting it off.” A laugh puffs from his lips.
“Jasmine was always on me to get out more so I could enjoy it all before heading back here. When I finally did get out there with you, I had the time of my life. It’s not like I belonged there.
You saw; I couldn’t hail a cab for shit. ”
“Thank God for the subway. It’s far cheaper too and where else can you get free mariachi performances at six in the morning?”
“You know what I mean.”
I do, still I ask. “Can’t you just tell him no?”
“We made the deal a long time ago. If I had been competing, we’d wait until I was ready to retire, which could have been anytime leading up to my mid-thirties.
But obviously, I tapped out early. So he paid for my college, let me get out of here to experience the real world and build a work ethic, however I chose to do so, as long as I came back after I turned twenty-eight. ”
“So, then what? You just stop writing?”
“Because gift guides are world changing. They're just silly little articles.”
I shrug off the robe and sink into the water.
My shirt balloons around me, the hem of my shorts hovering at my sides.
I step closer until I’m standing between his spread legs.
I grip his face with my hands and tilt his jaw so he has no choice but to look at me.
All thoughts about boundaries vanish as a need to tell how completely stupid he sounds consumes me.
“Those silly little articles helped me survive when I had no direction. They were humorous and full of heart and gave me a chance to feel like a person again when my life was in shambles. You don’t have to be Tolstoy to be important—to touch lives.
You touched mine before I met you. You asked me once what I did at the end of the day when I came home from being someone else?
I felt like a goddamn wreck—a shell. So I’d throw on some sweats and see if you’d written something new.
I read what you wrote and I was able to forget my worries and have a few moments of pure joy; you can’t put a price on that. ”