Chapter 30 Henry
Chapter 30
Henry
Renée is probably upset that she dropped the tray, but it’s a welcome distraction while he processes Bluebird coming out of Adam’s mouth. Bluebird. The company that his father worked for. The company he had sold his soul to. He hadn’t expected his release from federal prison to make national news. This is why his father has been calling and texting. This is why he has been resisting answering.
He doesn’t feel much like celebrating. Lucy was right about shame—he feels it in his bones, spreading beneath his skin and now through his blood.
Today is his father’s birthday too. His mother always bragged that Henry was the greatest gift. He draws on a memory. It’s quick, a flash through his mind. The two of them in the backyard, his dad pushing him on a swing. The higher he went, the more afraid he became.
“I’ve got you,” his father had said.
And then the cake slid out of Renée’s hands, and something in him snapped. Jean-Paul rushed to her side, concern lining his face as he reassured the guests. “Everything’s fine. I’ll bring out some fresh fruit.” But Henry’s eyes meet Lucy’s, and he’s had enough of the charade.
Maybe Lucy isn’t wrong about sharing their news, but they were both wrong in agreeing to come here. It was a mistake, and now he swigs his champagne, all sentiment lost. He clears his throat and stands.
“You don’t have to do this, Henry,” his wife says.
“But I do.”
Henry stares at his wife. His wife. Knowing what he’s about to say will change all that. “I can’t do this anymore, Lucy. We need to be honest.” His gaze moves from Lucy to the group gathered at the table. “Lucy and I are getting a divorce.”
Sienna stands up, her long blond hair whipping around. “What?”
Lucy squints in disbelief. “I thought—”
He supposed she expected him to disclose the other secret, the one he’s shamefully hidden from everyone. The one that has kept him awake at night, had him depressed and short-tempered, and left their marriage depleted and broken. They will deal with that one later, but for tonight, their dead-end relationship takes priority. He can’t pretend any longer. He can’t bear the kindness of complete strangers.
Jean-Paul announces the flaming Spanish coffee is ready.
“I think things are already heated enough, Chef.” Adam says this while pouring himself another glass of wine.
Leo stares at Penny.
“You can’t be serious,” Sienna says.
“I wish I wasn’t,” Henry says, tasting the bitterness of defeat. “We’re getting a divorce.”
It sounds less strangled when he says it this time. It slides right off his tongue with the kind of ease that has him believing it’s the right thing to do.
Sienna turns to her friend. “Lucy, how could you ... Why didn’t you say anything?”
Lucy stares down at her cast, fidgeting with something that’s not there. “I guess I thought we’d share the news with you in private.”
Cassidy’s unmoved by the admission. “There’s nothing private here, folks. The walls are paper thin ... no offense, Jean-Paul and Renée. And all this truth serum”—here Cassidy holds up her empty glass—“doesn’t help things.”
“Really, Cassidy?” Penny asks. “What do you think you know? Enlighten us.”
Henry sighs, relieved to have the attention momentarily off him and Lucy.
“’Cause I bet we can all attest to what’s going on over there.” Penny points to Cassidy and Rosalie.
“Okay,” Henry begins, “it wasn’t my intention to upset everyone. We’ve still got our friendship anniversary—”
“Henry,” Lucy interrupts, “it’s okay to talk about it.” Then she adds to no one in particular, “This is one of our problems.”
“You’re a therapist,” Sienna says, singling out Lucy. “You couldn’t use your psychological prowess on your own husband?” Henry frowns. Sienna doesn’t seem to care about their eighteen years of friendship. She stands tall, her back rigid. “No. You’re not doing this. I won’t let you. You love each other. You’re the best two people.”
Henry soaks in the way she fights for them, every word an attempt to hold them close.
“It’s not going to work.” Lucy reaches for her glass of champagne, but it’s empty, and Renée has yet to replenish. Or maybe she’s decided against it. “There’s been too many—”
Adam cuts her off. “Whatever’s going on, you two will work it out.” He looks at Henry with imploring eyes, and Henry wonders what he’s thinking. Does Adam know about his father? Has Lucy told Sienna, and has Sienna told Adam?
“You sound like you know something I don’t,” Henry says, genuinely curious.
Adam shakes his head. Tonight, his eyes look more green than blue, and the shameless way in which he gloats as though he’s in the know—because he always is—makes Henry sick. “Come on, Henry. How long have we been friends?”
Henry catches a glimpse of the old Adam—their once easy friendship. Adam has changed, but so has Henry. His father’s crimes made him a liar, omitting huge chunks of his life. But then an image of the four of them by the campfire last summer knocks into him, Lucy and Adam deep in conversation, and an uneasiness crawls down his spine. It passes quickly, and he spots the sheepish pride on Adam’s face. Arrogance.
He turns to his almost ex-wife. “Does he know? Did you tell him?”
She balks. “Why would I do that?”
Anger coats his next words, and he regrets saying them before he has a chance to stop himself. “I know how you get when you drink.”
Lucy gets up from the table, reaching for her crutches. Sienna stands too, angling around Lucy to make sure she doesn’t fall. Lucy shoos her away, but Sienna’s determined. That’s what a best friend does, he thinks. She fights. Lucy’s pissed, and if his wife’s expression isn’t enough, there’s Adam, sitting there fiddling with his napkin.
Henry says, “I wish someone would tell me what’s going on here.”