Chapter 31
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Henry
“When you’re deep into club culture like I am, it’s important to know your roots. Love Saves the Day by Tim Lawrence is the history book I needed.”
—Mabel’s Staff Pick
Since I’ve been staying in Leo’s apartment for the past few months, cleaning it out and trying to discern whether a receipt with his handwriting was worth keeping or tossing, I thought I knew cluttered.
Leo’s apartment was nothing compared to Ella’s.
Once we quickly tidied everything up at the store, we rushed over to her apartment. It felt too weird to be with each other in Leo’s place. The whole way there, she kept warning me about it.
“It’s small,” she had said as we sat on a near-empty train car together.
We were sitting thigh to thigh, her hand clasped in mine.
I’d been wanting exactly this for weeks.
Months. I was overwhelmed, to say the least. My emotions were bleeding into to each other: stressed about the fair, in awe of Ella, and relieved that she exceeded every hope I had.
“I don’t care,” I said.
“Like one room.”
“It’s a studio,” I said flatly. “Of course it’s only one room.”
“Like kitchen, bedroom, living room—right there.”
“Bathroom’s separate?”
She nudged my shoulder and muttered, “Smartass.”
“I don’t care, Ella, at all.”
“I have a lot of books, too.”
“There’s nothing you could say that’s going to scare me away,” I said softly. “Feel free to waste your breath trying, but this is how I feel, Ella. Deal with it.”
She looked down at her lap, trying to suppress her grin.
Regardless of her warnings, I was shocked stepping foot into her apartment.
Her bed was in the corner of the room, slightly elevated by a bedframe.
Peeking out from the bed skirt were paperbacks, strewn across the floor.
On the nightstand, and really everywhere in the apartment, there were stacks of books.
She had a small couch set against the wall near her bed, and a TV on the opposite wall.
Her kitchen was in the corner of the room, just a stovetop, oven, sink, and a fridge.
On the countertop, there was a stack of cookbooks.
“Do you like to read or something?” I asked.
She pushed me again. “Shut up.” Ella kicked off her shoes and I followed suit. “This is it.”
I stepped further into her apartment, trying to take it all in. Memorize as many titles as I could. Take in all the posters of movies and singers on the wall and file it away.
Hanging on the exposed brick were pictures of her with her family, friends, booksellers, and Leo. There was one of him I zeroed in on. He was standing in front of The Last Page, but he wasn’t alone. He was with my father and I was sitting there, just a toddler, on my dad’s shoulders.
“How long have you had these pictures up?”
She was crouched in front of her fridge, perusing her selection. “I don’t know, since I got this place. So maybe five years?”
I smiled at the thought. I couldn’t be blamed for being a little bit of a romantic. My mom believed in the invisible string theory. I always thought The Last Page was our string, but it was really a thick rope. And the frays of it were still connecting us.
“Are you hungry? I need to go grocery shopping, this is about all I’ve got.
” She began to pull items out of her fridge, setting them on her kitchen counter.
“We did have a workout. Well. You had a workout. I kinda just stood there. Does that annoy guys? When we’re just like lying there or standing there—”
“The emotion I was feeling was not even near annoyance, Ella. So long as you’re enjoying it, then I am, too.” A faint blush appeared on her cheek and I studied her. “Don’t tell me you’re shy.”
“If it were anybody else, I wouldn’t be, to be clear,” she said. “But you’re … you.”
It was strange how in a matter of a month, the years of heartbreak and hurt faded around Ella. After I met her, it was like my life started over.
“How does a grilled ham and cheese sound?” I asked, stepping closer to her. I nudged her away with my hip. “Sit there and do nothing again. I like it when you turn your brain off and let me take over.”
“As if I’ve ever done that,” Ella muttered.
She hopped up on the countertop as I pulled bread from the bag and heated up a pan on the stove.
“Ever since you’ve told me you’re a good cook, I’ve wanted to try your food.”
“I wouldn’t say grilled cheese will show off my skills,” I replied.
“Better than me,” she replied. “You said you got into it because of football?”
I hummed, noncommittally. Even though it was Ella, I thought it’d be easier to let my walls down. But there was a voice in the back of my head saying the more she knew, the easier it would be for her to walk away. Once she saw all my scars, she wouldn’t want to deal with it all.
But if I never changed my mindset, I’d never change my ways.
Hesitantly, I turned around as the sandwich cooked in the pan.
“I have to tell you something.” I blew out a deep breath. “And I hope it doesn’t change the way you feel about me …”
“It won’t,” Ella said, concern written across her face. She straightened and reached for my hand, pulling me between her legs. “You can tell me anything.”
Unable to meet her eye, I looked down at our intertwined hands. “I … struggle with depression. I have since I was a kid. And it’s why I make myself so lonely sometimes. I get so caught up in my own thoughts that I can’t hold myself up anymore and I just want to be alone.
“I know it’s embarrassing, but I’m trying to fix it. I’m in therapy—well, I have been for years—and I want to be happy, but I don’t really know if it’s possible for me.”
We were silent for a moment, the grilled cheese sizzling in the background. Ella gently grabbed my chin with her thumb and forefinger, lifting it so that I’d meet her gaze.
“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. And there’s nothing about you I would fix because there’s nothing wrong with you,” she whispered. “Thank you for telling me. I hope you know that I’m here for you. And that I really really care about you.”
“I care about you, too,” I said. “Really? This doesn’t change how you feel? It’s okay if it does—”
She cut me off by pressing her mouth against mine. My hand tangled in her hair as I thought, I’ll never get used to this. “No, Henry. If taking over The Last Page didn’t do it, I don’t think there’s much else.”
I bit back my smile, hoping that the pure and utter relief didn’t show on my face. With a quick kiss to her cheek, I turned back to the pan, sliding the sandwich to a plate and handing it to her. I could feel the weight of her gaze on me the whole time.
“Thank you,” she said, taking the plate from me. “You should know you kept me moving. I know we had a rocky start, but even then … I felt something again. For the first time in the weeks since he died, I wasn’t numb. It was anger, then worry, and then … this.”
“You’ve got no idea, honey,” I whispered, a smile spreading across my face. “Now eat up before your food gets cold.”
Once we sat together on her couch with our dinners, I said, “Which of these books are you reading?”
She craned her neck and pointed at her nightstand, “Two off there.” Then she nodded at the stack in the kitchen table in the corner, “One off there. And then one on my phone.”
“How do you read so many at once? I can’t keep track of all of that in my head,” I said, a little astonished.
“I’ve always been that way. I could never get enough of reading and books.”
“Tell me about them.”
She blinked. “What?”
I nudged her knee with mine. “Tell me about the books.”
“Which one?”
“All of them,” I said. “I want to live in that world inside your brain, too, Carmella.”
Hesitantly, she began to describe them, and when she saw I wasn’t bored, she started to really get into it. She set her plate down on the table in front of us and sat up a little straighter. And when I’d ask a question, her eyes would light up.
I’ve been thinking about what it would be like to live in New York. To trade my life for this one here. Slowly, I was learning to love New York—the hidden and not-so-hidden gems.
But sitting with Ella, her heart and apartment full of books, I knew I wouldn’t be lonely.
We laid in bed that night, our foreheads pressed together, whispering like we were in a confessional, and I realized New York City had absolutely nothing on Carmella Sanchez. And I wanted to be wherever she was.