4. Chapter Four
The bell above the door chimes as I step inside the only place to go in Sugar Plum when your body screams for caffeine.
Sugar and Cream’s freshly brewed coffee mingles with the mouth-watering scent of their homemade cinnamon rolls, weaving a comforting blanket around my jittery heart. I clutch my purse tighter, the leather groaning in protest, as yesterday’s memories dance through my mind. Standing in the middle of my family’s orchard with a lopsided grin, Henry Carter asked me to dinner.
“Keep it together, Rose,” I mutter, scanning the cozy interior for a familiar face. The woven chairs are mostly empty, except for one occupied by a man whose attention is lost behind the pages of a newspaper. I didn’t even know people still read those things.
As he turns the page, I catch a glimpse of his face, and—it’s him—Henry, sitting there in the corner like he’s part of the furniture. I might even drool when I notice how his plaid shirt strains across his muscular shoulders. But then again, I am hungry.
For breakfast, that is. Definitely not for Henry Carter. Because that would be so wrong.
My pulse thrums unevenly as I hover near the entrance, caught between a desire to bolt like a scared little kitten and the urge to stride over like a prowling lioness. He hasn’t seen me yet. Technically, I could order a coffee to go and pray he doesn’t look up before I have a chance to make my escape.
But who am I kidding?
“Go on, girl,” I coach myself silently, feeling a magnetic pull toward my former flame. It’s not every day you get to talk to your childhood crush, who has gotten so much better looking since high school if that were even possible.
I’m almost ready to make my move when insecurity rears its ugly head.
What if he’s changed?
What if the ease between us was just the sun playing tricks on my trampled heart?
My palms are slick now, and I can’t decide if it’s the Texas heat or the nerves dancing under my skin.
“You’ve faced scarier things than saying ‘hi’ to an old friend,” I remind myself, thinking of all the solo mornings spent coaching clients on making lasting first impressions. “If you can handle Dallas’ most elite bad boys, you can handle Henry Carter.”
Taking a deep breath, I inch forward, my heart doing acrobatics in my chest. This could be the start of something new or just a swift tumble back into the comfortable groove of friendship. Either way, I can’t ignore the flutter in my stomach that whispers, “This is Henry, and he’s right in front of you.”
“Hey there, Henry,” I say, my voice shakier than intended.
He looks up from his paper, those familiar green eyes crinkling at the corners, and a smile peeks out from behind his thick, silver mustache.
“Well, look who the cat drug in. How long has it been since our last accidental rendezvous?” He lifts his arm and glances at the watch on his wrist. “I think this could be a new record.”
“Too long,” I say, giving an awkward laugh. I remind my heart that under no circumstance is it acceptable to beat out of my chest, and my nervous energy settles as it finds a place among the old, familiar memories of a man I used to call my best friend.
“Join me for a coffee? We still got some catching up to do.” He gestures to the empty chair across from him, and it’s as if we’ve been doing this every day for years. He waves an arm at a young barista cleaning an espresso machine. “I’ll take another fresh cup for my friend here, Skyler. In fact, go ahead and make it a Red Eye. Sugar and cream on the side, if you would.”
“You got it, Henry,” she chimes from behind the counter.
“I can’t argue with that.” I slide into the seat, suddenly grateful for the solid wood beneath me. “But only if you promise not to mention the time I accidentally turned our science project pink.” Truth be told, after seeing him again after all these years, all I want to do is talk about us.
“Ah, the infamous Pink Potion of Sugar Plum Middle School.” Henry chuckles, shaking his head. “How could I forget? We were legends for the entire semester.”
“Legendary disasters, you mean.” My laughter mixes with his, and it’s like I stepped into a time machine. Only this time, I’ve ditched the braces and quit trying to perm my hair.
“I’m surprised you remember that. I guess disasters make for the best stories. Remember our hideout by the creek? You thought you saw a snake and nearly pushed me into the water, trying to run away.”
“Hey, self-preservation is a natural instinct,” I say, wondering if he’s ever had an awkward conversation with a woman a day in his life. He’s always been so… confident.
“Of course,” he nods solemnly. “And here I thought chivalry dictated that I should’ve been the one to ward off any assailants.”
“Chivalry would’ve been drowned that day,” I say, savoring the easy banter.
We share another laugh, and for a moment, it’s like we’re those carefree teenagers again, without the weight of loss or the complexity of grown-up life between us.
“Speaking of high school… do you remember our senior prom?”
My stomach flutters at the mention. How could I forget? “I do. Camille got chicken pox, and you needed a last-minute date.”
“Best worst luck ever,” he quips. “You saved me from going stag.”
There’s a slight ache in my heart when I think back to the day. Pretending to be happy for Camille while I helped her pick out the perfect dress for the event was a cruel reminder from the universe that a guy like Henry Carter would never go for a girl like me. He might have been my best friend, but he never looked at me like he looked at her.
And when she told me she couldn’t go to prom, she asked if I would go with Henry in her place. Like I was doing them both some monumental favor. Like I hadn’t secretly been in love with him since the fifth grade.
“Someone had to make sure the prom king had his dance,” I reply, shoving any old feelings back down where they belonged.
“You always did say my Cabbage Patch was the best in school,” he jokes. But then, his gaze softens, and he studies my eyes.
I look away, hoping he hasn’t developed some Spidey sense that clues him in on how happy I was that it was me who went with him that night. Not Camille.
“You made that night so special for me, Rose. More than anyone else could have.”
“Oh, stop,” I say, brushing away the guilt long enough to savor the nicest compliment anyone’s paid me in who knows how long. “We had fun because we were horrible dancers with nothing to lose.”
“Hey, speak for yourself. I had the best moves in school.”
“Sure, Henry. Your ‘sprinkler’ was legendary.“ My smile feels wider than it has in ages, and it’s all because of the man sitting across from me—the one who always knows how to light up a room and my heart.
“Always teasing. And here I thought you’d never come out of your shell,” he says, but something in his smile shows me how capable he is of being serious when the situation calls for it. Something about our exchange makes me feel like I’m standing on the edge of something new, or maybe something that’s been there all along, just waiting to be rediscovered.
“All jokes aside,” I start, then hesitate, my heart tap-dancing against my ribs. “There’s something I never told you about that night.”
His eyebrows lift, and he leans forward, a lock of silver bangs sweeping over his eyes. “Is it that you secretly wished the crowd would’ve voted us Prom King and Queen? Because that would’ve been awesome.”
“No, not that,” I laugh nervously, twirling a strand of hair around my finger. “It’s just that... I wasn’t even planning on going until Camille asked me to go with you.” The words tumble out in a rush before I can lose my nerve.
Henry blinks once, then twice, and I watch as a look of confusion paints his rugged features. “Wait, what do you mean you weren’t planning on going?” A gentle seriousness replaces his usual humor. “I thought you were going to go with me and Camille?”
“I don’t know. I guess I didn’t want to be the third wheel. And it’s not like guys were lined up around the block to ask me out back then. Not like they were with Camille...” Her name catches in my throat, and I swallow hard. “So, I didn’t see any harm in sitting one out.”
He’s quiet when he reaches across the table to cover my hand with his. His touch is warm and solid. “Rose, I—I’m sorry. I had no idea you felt that way.”
My breath hitches at the earnestness in his voice. This isn’t the class clown speaking anymore. This is Henry. The man who would do anything to make another feel included. It’s not his fault I couldn’t compartmentalize my feelings. “It’s okay. It was a long time ago. And hey, I got to go after all, didn’t I?”
“Yes. Yes, you did.” He gives my hand an encouraging squeeze. “But Rose, I hope you know how honored I was to be your date that night. Before Camille, it was always you and me against the world. I’ve never forgotten that.”
Caught between a line of fear and longing, he gently brushes his hand over mine. The world around us fades, and my heart doesn’t just skip a beat—it leaps. But like he said, that was before Camille.
I remember the summer she moved to Sugar Plum. Her vibrant personality illuminated the halls of our high school ever since our first day of Freshman year. She was magnetic, and it was no surprise Henry fell for her charm. But there’s always been a part of me that wonders…
What if I told him how I felt before she came into his life?
Would he still have seen me as just a friend?
Sitting across from him all these years later, my questions linger like wisps of steam while thoughts of Jace claw at my conscience.
“Rose?” Henry’s voice pulls me back from the precipice of my thoughts.
I shake my head, trying to dispel the fog of confusion. “It’s just that... I wish things could go back to how they used to be,” I admit, letting the heat from my coffee cup seep deep into my palms.
Henry reaches over, his touch stilling my nerves. “Whatever it is, Rose, you know you don’t have to go through it alone. I’m here if you ever want to talk.”
His words are comforting yet terrifying in their implication. To lean on Henry could mean toppling into feelings that might never be reciprocated. And the risk of revealing the secret of Jace’s infidelity feels as daunting as walking a tightrope between two skyscrapers without a safety net.
But then, there’s the reward—the glimpse of something more right here in Sugar Plum and the thrill of what could be if I only dared to reach out and grasp it.
“Life has a way of surprising us,” Henry says, his gaze holding mine with an intensity that makes my pulse race. “Maybe it’s time to embrace a little uncertainty.”