Chapter 14 – Rule #7 Remember them and things that are important to them, like their dog’s nametheir hobbies. Take
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
KAITLIN
“Hello, this is Henry’s phone, but this is absolutely one hundred percent not Henry speaking.”
I’ve called Henry, but instead of his sexy voice, it’s an authentic British accent on speakerphone.
“Well, hello, Not Henry. How are you today?”
“I’m quite well, thank you. While Not Henry is a rather charming moniker, you may refer to me as Julian, paralegal, tiny office manager, right-hand man, and general Henry wrangler.” His diction is crisp, and somehow, that makes him funnier, like a fancy butler being silly.
“Well, Julian, nice to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.” It’s true. Henry makes Julian sound like the best thing that’s ever happened to him.
“It better all be glowing compliments and ringing endorsements.”
“All good. Including how you regularly make sure he’s fed, watered, and caffeinated when he’s too tired to function.” Henry does say assorted nice things about Julian, but Henry rarely says anything unkind about anyone aside from his eldest brother, and that’s mostly in jest.
“You must be the mysterious Kait I’ve not been told enough about. Now that I’ve heard your ringtone, I’m even more curious. I’ve been alternating between intrigued and convinced you’re a figment of his imagination. He won’t even show me your photo.”
“I’m not that interesting.” Once in a while, I get a reminder that this is not a relationship. He doesn’t have a photo of me for reasons.
Julian makes a disapproving sound. “Henry’s been walking around with a toothy grin for months. More recently, he’s crossed the line from happy to so oddly chipper I suspect he’s actually criminally insane. I presume you’re to blame?”
“I would love nothing more than to be guilty of inspiring some of his happiness.” It’s true. Blame me, baby, blame me.
“Henry’s been sleeping lately, I understand. Are you also responsible for that?” Guilty. Happily so.
“It’s because our conversations put him to sleep. I’m completely boring,” I say. “Would you care to tell me more about my ringtone?”
“Your ringtone, well, it’s…” Henry perks up in the background, telling Julian to keep his trap shut and hand over the phone. It’s commanding in a way I’ve never heard from him before. He’s downright fierce.
“Sorry, Kait, it seems this information is verboten. I just got the finger-across-the-neck sign. Subtle, Henry. Oh, was I not supposed to speak your gesture aloud? Apologies. By any chance, do you, uh, parlez francais?”
I don’t even get a chance to answer the question; I hear Henry screeching in the background to give the phone back.
No matter, I’ll get it out of Henry. I have my ways, extremely pleasant and manipulative ways.
“If you can’t tell me that, what are Henry’s middle names?
I haven’t managed to worm that out of him, although he has told me that he is one hundred percent not Henry Ann or Henry Giuseppe, nor Marie, Bertha, or Bob. ”
“I do, in fact, know his middle names, as I have a copy of his passport here in my desk drawer…”
A smoking hot, growly Henry interrupts, and Julian stops. Yum!
“It seems I need to give Henry his phone now. Delighted to have finally spoken with you, Kait. Please call again when Henry isn’t here so we can talk about him.
I’ll text you my cell number now. Henry, don’t be so grabby.
It’s your fault—you let Saoirse meet her first, and she’s been rubbing it in ever since. ”
I need to not charge Henry for talking to Julian, but I also need to make sure Henry’s phone is where we continue to talk. Unsure, I say, “Julian, I’ll be calling you,” then hang up.
Within ten seconds, Henry is calling. “Kait, you never call me. Is everything okay?” I only call him when he asks me to, usually when he’s driving.
Otherwise, he always calls me. It’s a line I drew in the sand, trying not to make a pest of myself.
I text him all the time, even after he’s gone to bed.
His phone is set to do not disturb unless I call him twice in less than five minutes. I’ve never done that.
“Everything is great. I just, well, I had something important I need to talk to you about.” That’s Kaitspeak for “I miss you desperately today.”
“Okay.”
If a person can audibly flinch, Henry’s doing it. I shouldn’t have called.
“Errrr. I’m sorry?” I say. I need to figure out how to hang up as quickly as possible.
“It’s okay, lay it on me, Kait.” He sounds rigid, like when he asks me to hold on a moment and does something lawyer-y and authoritative while I wait. “What is it?”
“So, uhm, did you know a baby puffin is called a puffling?” I ask, bracing for his excuse to hang up as quickly as possible. I whisper, “Isn’t that the cutest thing you’ve ever heard?”
He releases a breath. “Awww. Kaity Babes,” he says, sincere and sweet. “That’s adorable. I’m so glad you called to give me that very important information.”
“I am too. I’m having a much better day now that I’ve shared it with you.
” I called because I didn’t talk to him yesterday; he had a flight from New York, then went to dinner with clients.
I’ve reached a place where more than twenty-four hours without a dose of Henry leaves me restless and grumpy, but I know deep down that admitting I miss him, if only in the private space of my own head, makes me pathetic.
“Kait, I’ve told you a few hundred times that you don’t need an excuse to call me.
If I’m busy, I’ll let it go to voicemail.
I really, really mean it. You don’t have to wait for something extremely important like pufflings to call.
You can call me for no reason at all.” He’s a beacon, pulling me gently into him like every single cell in my body is an iron filing and he’s magnetic north.
I hesitate, hating how needy I’ve become. “We didn’t talk yesterday, and that—I didn’t—I mean, it’s…” I stop. I don’t even know what I’m trying to say.
He drops into a whisper. “It’s okay. I’ve missed you too.” That’s reassuring, but I didn’t say that I missed him. I mean, it’s only been a day. I’m fine. Super-duper fine.
“Julian, I’m stepping out for a moment.” A door closes with a solid thunk.
“I’ve gotten rather spoiled. Hearing your voice every day has become an essential,” Henry murmurs. He sighs as he says, “Do you know what’s even better? When you’re in bed, ready to fall asleep too. I can pretend we’re in the same bed.”
Oh my god, this man.
“It would be wonderful for about two minutes, then you would steal all of the covers and hog the pillows,” Henry adds, then chuckles. Oh my heart.
“For you, sweet Henry, I’d share the pillows and maybe a few of the covers.
I do have an important question for you, in addition to the puffling update.
I need an answer, or it will bug me, and I won’t be able to go about my day.
” Gross exaggeration, but what can you do when you want to keep Henry on the line for another minute or two?
I’m not needy; I need Henry to feel needed. That’s all.
Luckily, he plays along, asking, “Okay, what’s the question?
“The world is being overrun by zombies, actual brain-slurping zombies.”
“Okay. There’s an important question coming, I can feel it.”
He’s so tolerant of my antics. If we were texting, he would get multiple smiley face emojis right now. “What song is the best for a zombie invasion?” I barely finish the sentence, and he’s blurting out the answer.
“‘Knights of Shame’ by AWOLNATION.”
“Henry, seriously, you do that so fast, it’s like you don’t even think about it.” It’s kind of a cool superpower. Way better than making random men shoot their load by talking about zombies.
“I don’t think about it, but I also have no control over it. Even if I can’t remember the name of the right song, I hear it in my head. It’s weird, but it’s not like I can change it.”
“I know,” I say. “But it’s still surprising every time you do it.”
“Any other deep, probing questions?”
Lacking a witty retort, I respond, “I have all kinds of thoughts and questions about you being deep and probing.”
Henry laughs at me. “That was a terrible line.”
“Well, yes, but it made you laugh. And yes, as a matter of fact, I do have questions. What are your middle names? What rests between Henry and Sterling? Why are you depriving me of what I need most, in the form of data about your names.” He loves holding out on me, taunting me with information I could probably find on the internet but I’m too stubborn to look up.
He makes a hmmmmm sound before he speaks.
“I can’t remember my middle names. I’ll have to ask Saoirse—she’ll remember, hopefully.
When I get tired, I can’t remember things well, and I’ve been traveling and didn’t have my favorite sleep aid last night.
I bet I’ll have a better memory when you tell me what grad school program you are applying for. ”
Lies. “Hmmmm. You’ve been sleeping like a baby. You said that since we got the private line and we’ve been doing lots of tuck-in calls, your sleep has improved.”
“That was before this moment. Suddenly, right now, today, I’m dying of tired. Or dying of death, isn’t that what you say? You’re dying of death.” He’s a lying liar of lies. He’s positively perky.
“Stop prevaricating.”
“That’s a fancy word, Kait, prevaricating. Lots of syllables.” I’d be thrilled if brainpower makes his dick perky.
I tease him. “Yes, I use big words. I’m a sapiosexual, keep up.”
“You sound smart, Kait.”
Yep. “Yes. I know. Stop. Prevaricating. And. Answer. The. Question, Henry Bradley Pitt-Sterling.”
“What question?” He’s enjoying this. He makes everything fun.
“What are your middle names?” I don’t care all that much about his middle names. It’s more the entertainment of trying to wheedle something out of him and the pleasure it gives him to deny me something I want. We should call it what it is: flirting.
“Neither of them are no, way, or Jose.”
“Answer the question. Stop trying to wiggle out of it and tell me.”
“Your Honor, opposing counsel is badgering the witness. You’re badgering the witness, Kait, and we can’t stand for that.”
“You’re such a lawyer.” I can’t help but smile. I always do when I’m talking to him. “Okay, we’ll do this your way. But remember, I asked nicely, and you were having memory problems. “
“Kaitykins, why do you sound scary all of a sudden? Are you threatening me?”
Why, yes, you should absolutely be concerned.
“Nothing to worry about, Henry Gertrude Maleficent Sterling, nothing at all. When we do it my way, remember that I gave you multiple chances. Call me later?”
“I would love nothing more than to call you this evening.”
“Awesome. Talk to you later, love monkey.” Coming up with a new pet name for him every time we talk sparks real freaking joy.
“Bye, babes.”
I suspect he enjoys it just as much.