2. Henry #2
The second I step into the house, the familiar scent of roasted chicken and something vaguely overcooked fills my nose.
The kitchen and dining room are buzzing with activity—Logan’s voice droning on about some town council issue, Sarah moving around the kitchen like a general orchestrating a battle, and Grace...
well, Grace is probably waiting to ambush me.
I barely make it two steps in before Sarah—my ever-lovely older sister—shoots me a look from over the dining table.
“Oh, look,” she says, voice dripping with mock surprise. “He lives.”
Logan chuckles from his seat. “Welcome home, Henry.”
I grumble something unintelligible in response and storm toward the liquor cabinet.
Not even two seconds later—
“Henry Walker, don’t you dare bring that to the table.”
I pause, bottle of whiskey in hand, and turn just enough to meet Sarah’s expectant glare.
“I wasn’t gonna—”
She folds her arms.
I sigh.
I was absolutely going to.
With a muttered curse, I place the bottle back on the shelf and turn toward the stairs. If I can just get to my room, I can avoid—
“Ah-ah.” Sarah’s voice stops me dead in my tracks. “You know the rule.”
I groan. “Sarah—”
She gestures toward the table, entirely unmoved. “Family. Always. Eats. Together.”
A muscle in my jaw ticks. I glance at Logan, who just shrugs like, don’t look at me, man. I married her, but I don’t control her.
Then there’s Grace, my fifteen-year-old niece, grinning like she’s watching the best reality TV episode of her life.
“Sit, Uncle Henry,” she sings, clearly enjoying my suffering.
This family is going to be the death of me.
I let out a slow breath, drop my keys on the counter, and drag myself to the table, slumping into the empty chair.
“There,” I say flatly. “I’m sitting. Happy?”
Sarah smirks. “Ecstatic.”
Grace, still grinning, leans forward, chin in her hands. “So, guess what’s for dinner?”
I glance at my plate. It’s... something. A weird-looking pasta dish that’s either a crime against humanity or an attempt at gourmet cooking gone horribly wrong.
I grunt. “That looks disgusting.”
Grace’s face lights up. “I told her!”
“Grace,” Sarah warns.
Logan chuckles. “C’mon, it’s not that bad.”
I poke at whatever this is with my fork. It does not look promising. “Looks like something I saw growing in a swamp once.”
“Uncle Henry, I knew I liked you for a reason.” Grace reaches across the table for a roll, looking way too pleased with my suffering.
Sarah sighs, rubbing her temples. “I swear, between you two, I don’t know who’s the bigger child.”
I smirk. “Definitely Grace.”
Grace gasps, dramatically clutching her chest. “Betrayed!”
We all laugh and the familiar rhythm of family washes over me—the bickering, the teasing, the warmth. It’s the only solace that I let myself sink into sometimes. The moment stretches, almost peaceful—until Logan ruins it.
“So,” he says, leaning back in his chair, “big news, guys.”
Sarah sighs. “If this is about your campaign again—”
“It is,” he says proudly. “And it’s going great, thank you for asking. But I need a little extra push.”
Sarah groans. Grace rolls her eyes. I debate stabbing myself with a fork.
Logan continues, undeterred. “I’ve got funding locked down for the new town projects, but the real kicker? I convinced a top-level emergency doctor to work in Harmony Springs E.R.”
My stomach drops.
Emily.
“She’s going to change everything,” Logan continues. “Better healthcare means happier voters, which means—”
“She’s not in town because of you,” I say, cutting him off.
Logan blinks. “What?”
I set my fork down. “She’s not in town because of you.”
Silence falls over the table.
Sarah narrows her eyes. “How do you know that?”
I should stop. I should shut up, chew my food, and let this moment pass.
Instead, I open my stupid mouth and say, “Because I’m getting married to her.”
The room erupts.
Grace gasps so loudly she nearly falls out of her chair. “WHAT?!”
Sarah’s eyes bug out. “I’m sorry, what?”
Logan drops his fork. “Wait. Hold on. Back up.”
Sarah smacks the table. “Back up further!”
I exhale, rubbing my temples. “It’s—”
“No. No, no, no.” Sarah shakes her head violently, hands flailing. “You don’t just casually drop ‘I’m getting married’ like it’s weather news—especially when you haven’t even been on a date in years!”
Grace claps her hands together, staring at me like I’ve suddenly become the most interesting person at the table.
“Oh my God, Uncle Henry’s in love!”
I groan. “I am not in love.”
Logan, coughing, wipes his mouth with a napkin. “Okay. Wow. So, uh... when exactly were you planning on telling us this?”
Sarah leans forward, eyes sharp. “When? How? Why?!”
I push my chair back, standing. “Look, it’s late. I gotta head in.”
Sarah’s voice follows me. “Henry James Walker, do not walk away from this conversation!”
I grab my keys from the counter. “Goodnight, Grace.”
Sarah glares at her daughter before whipping her head back to me. “Henry, sit back down!”
I ignore her, walking toward the stairs.
“This is the best dinner ever.” Grace calls after me, her voice smug. “If you propose, can I be your flower girl?”
I flip her off over my shoulder.
Her laughter echoes down the hall as I stomp toward my room, cursing myself for every single decision that led to this moment. I have no idea what just possessed me to say that.
Maybe it’s exhaustion. Maybe it’s pure frustration.
Or maybe, deep down, I know the second I agreed to this job—to protecting Emily—I signed up for something I wasn’t prepared for.
A fake marriage, with an infuriating woman who pushes every one of my buttons.
I groan, rubbing a hand down my face.
What the hell have I gotten myself into?