The three of us devise a plan. Jacob and Cassie will take the bus home from now on, which will allow me time to decompress after work before diving into chores.
Something akin to hope dares to enter my thoughts.
We’ll be okay.
A knock at the door stalls our conversation. I laugh at a joke my dad makes as I open the door. The laughter dies on my lips as I stare into Henry’s eyes. Lauren and Luke flank him on either side, both showing their excitement as they bounce on their heels.
“Hey, guys.” I open the door wider, allowing the three of them to walk in. Within seconds, Cassie and Jacob grab the other two and drag them to the basement, leaving me alone with Henry, who’s dressed in his usual hoodie, hat, and jeans. Damn. I don’t know how he does it, but I hope he never stops.
“We’re early,” he says with a shrug.
“Only by two hours,” I reply with a laugh.
Henry looks to his feet. “I tried texting you, but you never replied and it was too late to turn back.”
I shake my head. “Sorry. It’s been a crazy morning. I’m glad you’re here.” The smile on my face grows as he steps further into the house.
Mom rounds the corner, wiping her hands on a towel. “Well, hi there.” She sticks her hand out to shake his hand. “I’m Donna, Jocelyn’s mom.”
“Henry. Pleased to meet you.”
I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen a smile that wide on my mom’s face. Hell, she’s even straightening her hair. Not only can Henry Monroe charm all the women in town, he can also charm the pants off my seventy-four-year-old mother.
“We arranged a play date for the kids yesterday before I knew I would have company.”
Mom doesn’t flinch, but grabs Henry and pulls him into the dining room where my dad is reading the paper.
“Henry, meet Tom, Jocelyn’s father.”
Dad folds the paper neatly and sets it on the table. Now Henry looks nervous. The two men shake hands, doing some sort of stare down. Well, as much as Dad can do with his glasses. Looking at them side-by-side is almost comical. First you have Henry: thick hair, scruffy jaw, trim waist, and a few laugh lines around his eyes. Then there’s Dad: balding, no facial hair (unless you count his nose hair), beer belly, and enough lines on his face that would make a topographical map proud.
“Nice to meet you, sir.”
“No need for the sir business. Call me Tom.” Dad laughs. “So, you’re Jocelyn’s friend?”
Henry nods. “And sometimes boss.”
That gets Dad’s attention. “Oh, really?” He gives me a questioning look.
“At the restaurant I work at.” I need to tamp that down. “Cassie and his daughter, Lauren, are in the same class. And when I bring the kids to the restaurant, they all hang out together. They’ve been begging for a play date.”
Mom joins us at the table. “What do you have in the bags?” She places them on the table while being her usual snooping self. What’s the point of asking if you’re going to look anyway?
I turn to Henry and mouth “sorry,” which makes him smile. “As thanks, I was going to cook dinner tonight. There’s plenty for everyone.”
Seemingly satisfied, Mom starts putting the perishables into the fridge while Dad and Henry start talking about sports. Not surprising, Henry states he doesn’t keep track as well as he should. It was probably the wrong answer because now Dad will make him his project. Never having a son, he always wanted to pass down his sports knowledge to someone. Jacob loves it. Mike never took the time to listen so my dad never bothered to try. From the look on Henry’s face, he doesn’t seem to mind, but he’s also polite enough that he’ll sit through anything with a smile.
I don’t want to get in the middle of whatever male bonding is going on, so I shuffle to the kitchen to see what Mom is up to.
“He’s cute,” she whispers while putting some plates away.
I shush her and try to make a loud clanging noise in the hopes he didn’t hear. “He’s my boss.”
“What does that have to do with it?”
I roll my eyes, which earns me a stern look. “Well, for starters, we work together. And I’m not exactly available.”
“You were served papers, right?”
Thanks for bringing that up, Mom. “So?”
She turns to me with a hand on her hip. “In my world, that means you’re able to look around.”
Somehow I knew that statement would find its way in there. “But I’m not fully free.”
Mom looks to my finger. “You can start by removing that.” Instinctively, I twist it, a nervous gesture. “And you need to get out of your head. I don’t know if you’re holding out hope, but this is a sign.”
We can’t have this conversation right now, not when Henry is close enough to hear whatever advice my mom is willing to dish out, wanted or otherwise.
“We’ll talk about it later,” I hiss, but soften the blow with a kiss to her cheek. I know she’s only protecting me, though I’m not sure I’m ready for this heart-to-heart.
Henry looks over, a lazy smile lighting up his face as we connect. Mom says he’s cute. She’s wrong. Cute is what puppies are, or drawings my kids made when they were five. Not the adjective I’d use to describe the fine specimen of man that he is.
Mom places a hand in the middle of my back, pushing me toward the table. When I’m shoved into the seat, I’m surprised to see her standing behind my dad. She’s quiet and smiling. This isn’t good.
“Your father and I are going to go out to do a little Christmas shopping.” She makes a point to look around the living room. “Maybe even buy a tree and some decorations.”
It’s not that I haven’t had time to put anything up. I don’t own any. Mike hated the holidays. Every time I’d put something out, he’d grumble about it for weeks, stating how stupid it was to hang decorations for a few weeks only to take them down again. After a few years, I didn’t want to listen to it anymore, so I did the bare minimum for the kids. The tree went up the week of and promptly was taken down the next day. Same with stockings and any snow globes I’d place around the room.
Now that he’s gone, I can decorate how I want. We can have decorations up for every holiday, regardless of how big or small it is.
Dad looks up, his brow twisting in confusion. “We are?”
“Yes, Tom, we are.” Mom practically pulls him out of his chair. “We’ll be back in time for dinner.” They scurry out of the room as if we’re chasing them out. I didn’t know my parents could still move like that.
Henry shrugs and laughs. “What’s up with them?”
“Beats the hell out of me.” I keep my hands folded in front of me. It’s nice to just sit down and enjoy the company of another person. “I’m sure the kids will be stuck in the basement all afternoon. What do you want to do?”
The chair slides easily against the hardwood floor as he pushes away from the table, rounding it until he’s standing next to me. Holding his hand out, I take it as he lightly tugs me to my feet.
“When was the last time you just sat around and didn’t do anything?”
I just stare at him. “You’re funny.”
Obviously he agrees because he laughs and drags me to the couch. “I’m serious. How long has it been since you sat on the couch and did nothing but watch TV or read a book?”
“I read.”
“At night?” He quirks an eyebrow to me.
“And in the tub, so I can get a few minutes alone.”
All he does is shake his head and wander over to my movie case, crouched down while running his finger along the spines. I try really hard not to look at his ass while he’s in this position, but that’s like not watching a car accident as you pass by. It’s virtually impossible. He fills out a pair of Levi’s perfectly.
I don’t even notice what he selects as I’m hypnotized by his ass, though the spell is broken once he stands and turns on the TV and DVD player. Henry gives me a look over his shoulder.
Caught red handed. He
at crawls up my neck and cheeks, coating them in what I’m sure is the brightest shade of red possible.
He grabs the remote and sits next to me, pressing play. Not close enough so we’re touching, but not on the other side where he’s out of reach.
A drumroll sounds, perking up my ears. I don’t even have to turn to see what movie he’s picked. I know it by the opening music.
“I thought you didn’t care for this movie.” As soon as the trumpets and brass start in, I turn my head, drawn by the ever-so-famous opening title music. Even if you’ve never watched these movies, if someone played this song, you’d know where it was from.
“Never said that. I only said you were a nerd because you were geeking out over it. I do enjoy them, just not to your extent. Plus, I want to test my theory.”
“Theory?”
He nods. “I want to see if what you say is true. That it’s only at night you fall asleep to this movie and are capable of watching it during the day.”
“You’re on,” I say with a laugh. Pulling my feet underneath me, I get comfy as the opening sequence of Star Wars winds down.
We hit the part where I usually fall asleep and I turn to look at him with an ‘I told you so’ smirk.
“There’s still plenty of movie to go. Don’t get too cocky.”
Halfway through, my eyes get tired, heavy and droopy. I resist the urge to lean my head against the cushion. Only I do. But it’s not a cushion that my head lands on. No, it’s something hard and round with a mouth-watering, sexy smell attached to it.
Henry wraps an arm around my shoulder and guides the rest of my body to lean against his. I melt into him, amazed at how little adjusting I need to do for us to be comfortable. It’s as if we’re made to fit this way.
Sleep never shows, but the relaxation hits me in full force. I hate to admit it, but he’s right. It’s been way too long since I’ve sat around. Day after day I’m constantly running, making sure everyone else is taken care of without giving myself the same luxury.
Maybe this could be my new norm. Carving time out for myself. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do?
The heat radiating off his body warms me to the bones. When I sneak a glance up, I trace the profile of his jaw with my eyes, memorizing each line.
Maybe I should be looking for something different than what I’ve gone for when I was younger. Like the person currently holding me as if I’ll float away.
I snuggle in closer, lost in the movie and in the steady beat of his heart. A smile pulls at my lips. I could get used to this kind of normal.
“I don’t think this is what friends do,” I say, half-yawning.
My head bounces as he chuckles. “Friends do this.”
“Oh really?” I pull back to look at his face. “You sit with your arm around your guy friends when they come over?”
He looks up to the ceiling, mock thinking while desperately trying to hide his smile. “Can’t say I watch many movies with my friends. We’re more of the go-out-to-the-bar-and-drink-all-night crowd.”
“So you admit this isn’t friendly.”
He pulls me in tighter. “This is very friendly.”
I lick my lips, wanting to reach up and remove his hat.
“Why do you always wear this?” I touch the brim, tipping it back slightly for a better view of his eyes.
Pulling the hat off, he tosses it on the table in front of us. “Force of habit, I suppose. Since I’m always in the kitchen, I need my hair secured back somehow. Wearing a hat was the logical choice.”
The movie disappears out of my peripheral as I lock onto the blue ones staring straight at me, almost through me. They dance back and forth, seemingly studying my features as I had moments ago. One of us needs to make a move. A tilt of a head or something so I know he wants it as much as I’m fighting it.
His lips part and he leans forward ever so slightly. Warm, minty breath hits my face, leaving my eyes to flutter with indecision. Open or closed? A low-lying need pulses through my veins, one that was briefly awoken the other night with my drunken escapades.
Before I have the chance to do anything my body is screaming to do, four sets of feet stomp up the stairs, warning of their arrival. We pull back like two teenagers caught by their parents. A laugh bubbles to the surface. I’m thirty-two years old and I’m behaving like I’m fifteen with my first crush.
“Mom, we’re bored.” Jacob plops next to me with a huff. Luke sits next to him, forcing me to scoot closer to Henry. Hmm, I’m okay with this situation.
“Oh, Star Wars.” Cassie plops down right in the middle of the floor. Lauren joins her, stating she’s never seen it, which sends Cassie into the history of the movie. This is a proud mother moment. My little girl is a geek like me.
“Han Solo is my favorite. But you’ll get sad in the second movie because he-”
“Cassie,” I say, halting her progress. “If she hasn’t seen it yet, don’t tell her. We’ll put in Empire Strikes Back after this is finished.”
Her little eyes brighten with her smile. “Yay!”
I look to Henry, who’s suppressing a grin. “Guess you proved me wrong. It is possible for you to stay awake during this movie. Though I think there was a moment when you almost fell asleep.”
“It was touch and go, but the power of the Force pulled me through.”
“Again, not sure that’s how the Force works.” This time he lets his laugh go.
“Just play my silly game, will you?” I can’t help but mirror his smile. It’s hard not to. Laughter is rare in this house. Or at least it used to be. This past month has been an eye-opener for our family. Not in a bad way.
I take a second to look at the situation. Two huddled on the floor, animatedly talking while sparing glances at the TV. The other two are quiet, one leaning against the other like a younger sibling who idolizes the other would.
Then there’s me, sitting next to Henry while trying to keep my rebellious body in check. Stupid heart has been working harder than usual, even though my brain has said to stop on numerous occasions.
Still, this picture is one that pulls at my heartstrings.
“Who wants popcorn?” I ask as the credits roll across the screen.
Four very excited children yell their approval while waving their hands in the air. Henry and I laugh as I try to move from my incredibly comfortable position. I’m given a gentle shove, followed by a lingering hand over my ass. Not sure if it was intentional or not, but I’ll take it.
I stand in front of the cupboards and tap my lips. Microwave or stove? One will be ready faster, but there’s nothing like freshly popped popcorn.
“Need a hand?” Goose bumps prick my skin as his warm breath hits the back of my neck. I grip the doors harder, either to keep me upright or stop from turning around to face him.
“Just making a decision.”
Isn’t that the truth?
His arm brushes against mine as he reaches into the open cabinet, grabbing the popcorn seeds. “This is better.” I can feel the hard press of him against my back; not quite flush but definitely not far away. He’s teasing me, tempting me with something I want but can’t have.
“Is it? What’s so wrong with the quick and easy stuff?” I can’t help it. The glutton in me needs to see him. I turn and come face to face with his amused demeanor.
“Nothing’s wrong with quick and easy. But the wait, the anticipation of the good stuff is worth it.”
“Are we speaking in double meanings?” Curiosity has bitten me. Our conversation last night left me feeling edgy, knowing he feels an inkling of what I’m starting to put a name to.
“Possibly.” He raises a brow to match his smirk.
I gulp. “I-I’m okay with the wait.”
He flashes me a toothy smile. “Good. Things are always better when they take their time. Like how a slow simmer brings out the flavors of what you’re cooking. That’s what I want for us. A slow simmer until it reaches the boiling point.” He runs a finger down my c
heek. “Slowly stoking the fire until it bursts into flames. Because when you take your time, everything is better.”
Oh. Good. God. Pretty sure I just soaked my panties.
I stand stupefied, rooted to the spot as he moves around the kitchen, finding my pots and oil to make the kids their snack. And I let him move about, watching him make use of the space, filling it with more than just his body. It’s like at work. When he’s cooking, he brings an energy that’s almost palpable. Sure, he’s not making anything gourmet, but he does it with precision, messing with the burner and shaking the pot so every kernel is popped.
“Do you have popcorn salt?” I finally snap back to reality. My confused look is enough of an answer.
“I didn’t know such a thing exists.”
Henry laughs and digs through my mediocre spice cabinet. “It’s a finer salt, not quite as grainy.” He pulls down several things and sprinkles them onto the still-warm popcorn. Tossing it a few times to properly coat each one, he flashes the giant bowl my way. “Ta-da.”
I take a small handful and pop it into my mouth. Dill hits me first, then garlic and a little bit of salt. Wow, this is way better than microwave popcorn.
“That’s amazing,” I say, taking another handful.
We walk back to the living room and dish out separate bowls for the kids to avoid the mass exodus and minimize spillage. Jacob already switched out the movie and hits play.
“We waited for you guys to get back.”
I ruffle his hair. “Thanks, buddy.”
The six of us relax back into our positions, including me pressed into Henry’s side again. He feeds me popcorn as he runs his hand up and down my arm.
Halfway through the movie, the door opens and a blast of cold air hits us from behind.
“My that wind came out of nowhere.” Mom shakes off her coat and hangs it in the closet. Dad stomps the excess snow off his shoes, which must have started while we’ve been trapped in our warm, cozy bubble.
“Grandma, we’re watching Empire,” Cassie calls out.
Mom rounds the couch, eyeing the situation. Like a cunning fox, she doesn’t give any indication of what’s going through her head.
Even if I didn’t want to give my mom false hope that something’s going on, it’s too late now. Knowing her, she already has a plan in her head after misreading the scenario. Or did she misread it? Henry could have sat in the chair but opted to sit next to me. Same goes for myself, I guess.
I Don't Regret You Page 14
