10. Henry
HENRY
It’s Sunday night, and I’m stretched out on Will’s oversized couch.
His house is like an ad for the perfect family home.
Slipcovered sofas in soft neutrals. Fresh flowers on the kitchen island.
Throws draped just so over the backs of chairs.
Wide plank floors, tons of natural light even at this hour, and that open kitchen with marble countertops and brass fixtures.
It looks effortless but probably cost a fortune and definitely required a designer.
It’s exactly what you’d expect from Will and Abigail. Perfect taste and perfect execution.
The TV drones in the background with some cooking show nobody’s watching. My nephew, Harvey, sits on the rug, turning wooden blocks in his hands while delivering very serious commentary in baby talk.
Will’s across from me, talking about business.
It’s booming, as always. I nod like I’m listening, but my attention drifts to Harvey.
He abandons his blocks and crawls toward me with single-minded determination.
When he reaches the couch, I offer my hand.
He grabs my fingers with surprising strength and immediately tries to chew my sleeve.
“If you want to keep that shirt, you better get it out of his mouth,” Will says, standing and lifting Harvey with practiced ease. Harvey lets out a defiant babble as he’s hoisted into the air, still determined to keep his grip.
“You feeding him?” I ask, inspecting the damp spot on my cuff.
Will shoots me a look. Harvey’s a big baby, practically made of rolls. He’s clearly being fed.
“He’s teething,” Will says. “Everything’s fair game.”
Will places him back on the rug and a wooden block immediately goes into his mouth.
“Is Abigail going to be home soon?” I ask, checking my watch. She’s the only woman I know who isn’t trying to get in my pants, which makes her the only one I can trust to give me objective advice. But Will hovers around her like a bloodhound.
Yesterday, at Harvey’s first birthday party, I tried to ask her for advice, but he wouldn’t let me get a word in edgewise.
Sure, I was a little cold to her at first but I had my reasons.
Will changed overnight when he met her. Became completely devoted.
Proposed way too fast. I figured she was some kind of jezebel. Turns out, she’s actually alright.
Anyway, I called last night. He said to come over, said we’d figure it out. Only Abigail’s out at dinner with a friend.
“You don’t need her advice,” Will says. “Look who you’re talking to.”
I stare at him.
“I won her over, didn’t I?” He leans back, arms crossed, like he’s waiting for applause. “And that wasn’t easy.”
I keep staring. I don’t know all the details, but I know enough. Abigail’s a lawyer. She and Will were on opposite sides of a case when they met, and from what I heard, she couldn’t stand him. Sounds familiar. Now they’re married.
“Alright. How’d you pull it off?” I ask.
“First, I want to know who she is.”
“Not happening.”
“Come on. I can’t give real advice if I don’t know who we’re talking about.”
“You don’t know her.”
“Then why is she off-limits?” He narrows his eyes. “You said she’s someone you have no business wanting.”
“And I meant it.”
“So what’s the problem? Is she married? Dangerous? A nun?”
I exhale through my nose. He’s not going to let it go.
“She’s the marketing director at Vue.”
Will stares at me for a beat. Then bursts out laughing.
“You’ve got to be kidding. Of all the women in the world—”
“Says the guy who fell for opposing counsel.”
His face flattens instantly.
“Point taken.”
“So tell me, how’d you win her over?”
Will’s eyes light up.
“Simple. I—” he glances at Harvey playing on the rug and pauses for a moment. “I satisfied her.”
I stare. “Wow. Inspirational.”
“I’m serious,” he says, grinning. “I focused on her. Made sure she was taken care of. Every time. No pressure, just satisfaction. That kept her coming back. And once I had her attention,” he taps his temple, “I wore her down with my charm.”
“That’s your big advice?” I ask. “I tried that. She didn’t call.”
It’s been nine days since the meeting room.
I figured, like Will, that if I showed her what I could do, she’d be blowing up my phone.
Not Natalie. It’s been radio silence. I’ve called her at work.
Twelve times. Thought about going down there once, even made it to the lobby. But I figured that’d only piss her off.
“Maybe you didn’t satisfy her,” Will says.
“I can assure you, I did.”
I still don’t get it. I know she’s into me.
I see it in the way she looks at me when she thinks I’m not paying attention.
It doesn’t match the things she says. I thought if I made the move she’d let herself admit it.
Let herself want it too. I guessed wrong.
This is why I need Abigail’s opinion. She’s a woman, she might actually understand how they think.
Will and I agree that Abigail’s probably the one who’ll know what to do. So I sink deeper into the couch and wait.
It’s not long before the front door opens and her voice carries in from the hallway. “I’m home!”
“In here,” Will calls back.
She enters a moment later, dark hair pulled back, sharp features softened by a smile.
She’s wearing one of those oversized, cozy sweaters that swallows her frame, over slim jeans and low boots.
Will’s whole face lights up when he sees her.
She smiles back, but when her eyes land on me, it flattens slightly.
“Henry,” she says.
“Can we talk?” I ask, sitting up.
Will picks up Harvey. “I’ll get him in the bath.”
Then it’s just me and Abigail. She lowers herself onto the opposite couch, tucking one leg under the other. That softness fades fast, replaced by the look I imagine she gives witnesses on the stand. Calm, unreadable, waiting for you to trip over your own words.
“You know about women, right?” I say.
She lifts a brow. “Compared to you? Definitely.”
It all spills out. Not in any kind of order. Half sentences, backpedals, the occasional swear I immediately regret. I circle the point three times before I finally land on it.
“…she hasn’t called me.”
“Jesus, Henry. Of course she’s not calling you. Do you know what that would do to her career if anyone found out? Do you know how bad it looks?”
“Who cares about that?” I say.
“She does, obviously.” Abigail’s mouth tightens. “If she let you touch her, there’s something there. You’re not imagining that. If she was repulsed by you, she wouldn’t—”
“No one’s repulsed by me,” I say.
“You’d be surprised,” she snaps. I roll my eyes. “Look, it’s a good sign. But my advice? Leave her alone. She doesn’t need to be swept up in your drama. She sounds sensible. Find someone else to pursue.”
She’s about to stand. The words slip out.
“I don’t want anyone else,” I say softly. “She’s…it’s…I feel…” I shrug. “I think she’s it. For me.”
Abigail pauses, wrestles with something, then leans in. “You’re sure?”
I nod.
“You’re not trying to make me help you ruin this woman’s life?”
“No.”
“Alright.” She breathes sharply. “I had similar reservations about Will. It didn’t look good, given how things started. At times, I felt like I was choosing between him and my career, so I get how she must feel.”
“So what do I do?” I ask.
“There’s no magic solution, Henry. She’s torn between a notorious playboy and her future.
But if you focus on showing her you’re serious and not a fling she’ll regret, then you might win her over.
Will was pushy at first but when I agreed to see him, he slowed down.
He made me feel safe, supported. He showed me it wasn’t just fun for him, that he really cared.
He was sure about us. And he gave me the space to get there too. ”
“Funny, he has a different version of events,” I say. She arches an eyebrow. “He told me he satisfied you and that’s how he won you over.”
“He what?”
Abigail’s face goes through several expressions in rapid succession. Disbelief. Fury. Something that might be mortification.
“WILL!” she shouts toward the stairs.
I’m already on my feet. “That’s my cue.”
I grab my jacket and head for the door, catching Will’s confused face at the top of the stairs just as Abigail launches into what sounds like a very spirited monologue on the topic of what the hell is wrong with him.
I sink into the driver’s seat and shut the door behind me.
Will says the key is sex. Abigail says it’s safety.
Maybe they’re both right. But what stuck with me was Abigail confirming what I already knew: Natalie likes me.
She didn’t disappear because she doesn’t want me, she disappeared because she’s not about to risk her career for something that feels like a game.
I pull out my phone and text Linda, asking for Natalie’s schedule and cell number. I don’t know how she’ll get them, but she will. She always does.