Chapter 29 #2
It’s nice having someone enthusiastic about me.
The ellipsis appears, vanishes, and reappears.
I’m also sorry if I seemed uncomfortable on the roof yesterday. I wasn’t prepared for the two of you meeting or how well you got along. It brought out my protective side.
I groan and shake my head.
Why? Were you concerned that I’d be unsafe or hurtful with him?
The ellipsis does its dance again. I bite into another pickle, awaiting his response. For his apology to matter, I must understand it. When the ellipsis disappears, I nearly set the phone down—this might take time for him to articulate.
But it rings in my hand, announcing Henry on FaceTime.
I jump and accept the call, forgetting the pickle hanging out of my mouth.
“No, Venus, that’s not it at all. I…” he says sternly, forgoing a greeting. But eyeing my protruding pickle makes his eyes narrow before he manages a laugh. “Is that a pickle?”
I nod and bite off what I can chew before setting the rest down on the counter behind me. With puffy cheeks, I mumble, “I didn’t expect you to FaceTime.”
“Sorry, but I don’t want you to think that, and I thought it’d be better to explain face to face. Is this okay?”
“Um, of course.” A breeze tousles his earthy hair, and sunlight glints in his eyes behind his thick frames, reminding me of a Cosmos atrosanguineus, the chocolate cosmos—a beautiful, brown, and maroon-hued flower native to Mexico—especially with the blue sky behind him. “You’re outside.”
“On the balcony.” He twists the phone to show me the river view. He turns it back on himself, flashing his lopsided smile as I wipe my lips with my hand. “Venus, I’d never think you’d be unsafe or hurtful with Olly. It wasn’t you at all—you were great with him. It was me. I, um…”
He pushes his glasses up on his nose and shrugs. “I was worried about him getting too attached. Worried for me, too.”
His chin droops while his eyes squint, and I feel his distress—it’s a worry we share.
“I-I-I didn’t mean to…” I swallow the thickness in my throat. “If you want me to stay away, I will.”
“No, that’s not what I want.” His head shakes, and his smile returns. “I was worried, but… holding Frank the Frog also worried me, and that turned out okay.”
He chuckles, and a smile appears in the little box holding my face, too. “Better than okay, Henry. We disproved a false claim and created a story to tell.”
“An illustrated story, thanks to you,” he adds, motioning to his heart. “Frank the Frog is Olly’s favorite.”
The emotion in my throat thickens again—a feeling that doesn’t make sense scientifically but exists nonetheless.
“Have you told anyone that story?” he asks, looking curious as the breeze shifts his hair again.
“Um, no,” I say, wondering who I would tell it to. Ivy would think it gross, while Dad would surely scold me for touching Frank without gloves. “I’m not—I don’t—tell stories.”
“Yeah, you do. You used to. You told Olly about Mango from Madagascar. You’re just out of practice.” His head tilts slightly, taking me in as I stumble over even more emotions, and a sexy smile graces his handsome face.
I consider how unpracticed I felt, socializing with Dad, Ivy, and their significant others. “Perhaps, that’s true,” I admit. “Practice makes perfect, or at least gets us close, as Dad would say.”
Fearing our conversation might be coming to an end with his hesitation, I say, “But I’m glad that you shared about Frank. I like Olly. He, um, asks insightful questions, indicative of an above-average intelligence.”
Henry nods and turns more serious when he says, “Venus, I’m glad you’re home. I want you here.”
I swallow another surge of emotions and manage a weak smile. “I… thank you.”
“And, I’m not the only one. Olly spent his entire day at camp raving about you and Mango. Leave it to Venus Blake to save me from another boring summer, right?”
Laughter escapes me, and my cheeks heat under his gaze. “We saved each other, Henry.”
Silence takes over again, and I search for something to say among the warm feelings he’s elicited. He’s glad I’m home. He wants me here. This entire conversation seems to bend our rules banning feelings and attachments.
“Olly’s looking forward to his garden tutorial. I can’t get him to do chores, but he’ll consider your instructions his mission,” he says, smirking.
“When would you like me to revisit?”
“Sunday afternoon, okay? I’ll ask Carly to drop him off early.”
“Yes, that’s acceptable.”
Henry’s gentle eyes turn away, and tendrils of his hair dance on his head.
I imagine standing beside him, leaning against his shoulder, and his arm wrapping around me.
In my fantasy, we discuss the setting—he gives me historical facts about the USS North Carolina battleship in our view, and I counter with the impact of such a massive object on the waters it resides in.
He breaks our engagement with a distraction—sweeping my hair out of my eyes, running his thumb over my cheek, kissing me—and my brain empties of all thoughts except one. Henry.
“He slept with Mango under his pillow last night,” Henry says, breaking the spell.
Feelings stir again—ones I can’t afford to entertain. “Um, I’m glad Mango has found a happy home.”