Chapter 23
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Henry
“Abby Jimenez knows exactly where to strike. Yours Truly has the EXACT kind of simp, yearning, down bad hero every woman craves and hopes to find off the page.”
—Ameerah’s Staff Pick
We took a bus from Romeo’s to my place. On the way, Ella fell asleep on my shoulder, her head lulling forward. Thank God she didn’t take the train by herself.
“This is our stop. Can you walk?”
“Can I walk?” she asked, her words slurring.
“Guess not,” I said quietly, unable to hide the amusement in my voice. I slid my arm around her waist again, feeling restless and stable all at once.
It was nearly two in the morning. I had a solid buzz going, but it had died down by the time we stopped in front of Leo’s building.
“Carmella,” I said, testing the name on my tongue again, gauging her reaction.
I had said it once to her in the bar and was itching to repeat it.
To say it out loud because maybe then it’d stop playing in a loop in my mind.
I loved the way it felt on my tongue, lifting in a smooth rhythm, then settling against my teeth.
I pulled the keys out of my pocket and said, “If you want me to get you an Uber, I will. But I’ll feel better knowing that no one can take advantage of you and that you’re safe. Your decision.”
Ella tucked her hair behind her ears in the way that drove me crazy. Her lips were parted as she studied me and all I could think was it would be so easy to love her. It wouldn’t drain me. For the first time in so long, I felt alive. Awake.
She nodded, then gestured at the keys in my hands. “Open up.”
Once I unlocked the door, she marched up the stairs like she owned the place. She’d obviously been here many times.
Did she take care of him when he was sick? When his age made it hard for him to get out of bed or up after a fall, did she race over? Or did she go to him for comfort when her parents were forty minutes away?
She rested her head against the wall next to Leo’s apartment.
“The room’s almost done spinning, give me a minute,” she murmured.
I laughed quietly. “It’ll settle down inside, come on.”
I gently grabbed her shoulders and guided her inside. Almost immediately, like it was muscle memory, she slammed down onto the couch.
“I haven’t been here since just after he passed,” she said softly, looking around. “It’s much cleaner.”
“Leo was a hoarder,” I said. Although the alcohol was slowly wearing off, I was extra cautious with my words. My mind was blurry and I was working to clear it. To remember all of this.
“Leo loved keepsakes,” she insisted. “Nothing wrong with liking books.”
“And keeping your place untidy.”
She studied me for a second. “You’re a neat freak, aren’t you? I saw those stacks of papers on Leo’s desk. Not even one was crooked.”
I dug through the kitchen cupboards for two water glasses. “The community doesn’t like the word freak.”
She laughed in delight. “I uncover something new about you every day, Henry. And then I hoard it and add it to my collection of puzzle pieces. I’ll get the full picture soon.”
My pulse spiked, trying not to feel so much hope.
She was drunk, I reminded myself. I couldn’t let myself take any of these words to heart.
Even if I was doing the same. But her puzzle was far more complex.
There wasn’t much to me. I was lonely. I was neat.
I was a numbers nerd. I was someone without a father and now a grandfather. That about summed me up.
Carmella Sanchez was a mosaic. There was much more to her, and I wanted to know it all.
I handed her the glass of water and she sipped eagerly at it.
“Emily’s probably hiding somewhere around here.”
Ella rolled her eyes. “Typical. I used to call her an endangered animal because I rarely ever saw her. Leo hated that.”
“How often did you come here?” I sat on the other side of the couch, but it wasn’t very big. There was very little space between us and I wanted to reach out and just … touch. To put my hand on her in some way, like I was some caveman. Proof that she was here and was with me by her own volition.
She shrugged, slurping down her water. “Plenty of times. Not until I was much older, though. I think Leo recognized our relationship could be perceived as strange, even though we were nothing but granddaughter and grandfather. Friends.
“But it’s not like anyone could be skeptical of Leo. My parents had invited him up to Queens plenty of times for dinner, too. I think they felt bad that he was in this apartment all alone.” Ella shot me a look. “They, horribly, didn’t recognize Emily Lickinson as a companion.
“But the first time I came here was when I was nineteen. My parents and siblings came and he made us all dinner. And he cleaned this place up like you wouldn’t believe.”
I raised my eyebrows. “He has no space to put anything anyplace other than the living room.”
“Hate to say it, Henry, but I think your room was a storage unit for some time.” She hiccupped, her brows furrowed.
I tapped her glass of water and silently she obeyed, sipping more down.
“When I moved out of my parents’, he’d invite me over for dinner because I think they were right. He felt lonely.”
I shook my head, a little shocked. “I never thought he was the type of person to get lonely. Even when he was alone, he had books.”
Ella deadpanned, “Everyone gets lonely. My mom says New York is the city with the most people, but the loneliest, too. I think when you’re older and you can’t do as much … but we can go out. Bars, restaurants, clubs. Leo couldn’t.”
I hated how selfish I’d been these past few years. My grandfather was in this apartment all by himself and, as far as I knew, never made plans to leave the city. He was content just being by himself and after our fight, never begged me to come up. Never asked.
Would I have, though? I was so clouded in my judgment for so many years, then so ashamed of how I reacted that I didn’t want to face him.
“I’m glad he had you,” I said finally. Drunk, Ella couldn’t hide her expressions, because the appreciation was evident on her face. “I’m glad he had someone who loved him like you in his last months.”
“Thank you,” she said quietly. “I-I know I might overstep sometimes with my relationship with Leo. But I don’t want you to think he thought of me as a replacement or anything. He told stories about you. And often.”
I smiled softly. “You don’t have to lie—”
“I’m not!” she insisted. “He’d talk about you getting stuck at the top of the shelves when you were five. He and your dad had to climb up to get you, but you were so content being up there that you wouldn’t come down.”
My heart thumped against my chest. No matter how many times I felt it, the regret struck me so fiercely.
“Should’ve told me how hot you were,” she murmured, lying back on the couch. Her thick black hair splayed around her. “Never mentioned it once. Traitor.”
“Ella, don’t fall asleep here,” I whispered as her feet came up on the couch, resting in my lap.
“Carmella,” she corrected. “No one calls me that. I love it when you do.”
“Carmella,” I said, a weight settling in my chest at the permission of being somebody to her. “You can sleep in my bed and I’ll sleep in Leo’s room, come on.”
I shook her calf, but she gently kicked me away. Her eyes were closed as she shifted onto her side, snuggling deeper into the couch.
I extricated myself from under her. I stood above her on the couch, my hands on my hips. She looked plenty cozy, but I knew her neck would hurt by the end of the night.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I scooped her into my arms in a bridal carry and carefully walked over to my old room. I expected her to stiffen and wake up, but instead she snuggled into my chest, sighing contently.
She was drunk, I reminded myself, none of this meant anything. I couldn’t read into this and let hope build into something real.
I nudged the guest room open and laid her gently on the bed.
There was a blanket at the foot and I laid it on top of her, tucking her in.
She hummed contentedly, snuggling into the pillow.
I tried not to linger on the way her lashes lay against her cheek or her soft breath. But fuck, she was beautiful.
“You should stay,” she said quietly.
“Carmella, honey, you’re drunk,” I said gently.
“In New York,” she clarified. “There’s more to it. Maybe I’m not doing a great job …”
“You’re always doing a good job,” I said, smoothing her hair back.
“You could stay. I could be your Charlie. New York’s got so much to offer.”
“It’s got you,” I agreed. “Go to sleep, Carmella. I’ll be here in the morning.”
She nodded, nuzzling into the pillow as I stepped out.
I hesitated in front of Leo’s door. It was my shameful secret that I’d been sleeping on the couch.
And I didn’t want anyone to know, especially not Ella.
It was too much to sleep in my old room, imagining what could’ve been.
I hadn’t even opened Leo’s room. I had the choice between my old ghosts or his.
So I made my bed up on the couch.
I sat up at the sound of glass shattering.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Ella muttered. Bleary-eyed, I made my way into the kitchen to find Ella in one of my old football T-shirts. The sun had just barely begun to rise, glints of sunlight bursting through the window and right onto her.
“Holy fuck,” I muttered.
Ella gasped sharply, dropping another glass. “You scared the shit out of me.” Just as she was about to step toward me, I held out a hand.
“Stop,” I said, my voice low and stern. She stared at me wide-eyed, uncertain. “There’s glass,” I said, my voice gentler. “I don’t want you to step in it.”
She nodded once and I grabbed a broom from the closet. Her body had been covered by half of the kitchen counter and I nearly tripped over my own two feet when I saw her clad only in my T-shirt.
I quickly swept it all up, tossing the glass into the bin, keeping my eyes intently on the floor.