“Elizabeth, before you disappear forever, I want you to know I’ve been beastly. It was a lapse in judgment. Her name was Alice. It’s over now. I’m just under so much pressure from my publisher, my agent, and then there’s the Netflix series. I was telling my therapist today how stressful the success has been. I mean,Brad Pittand I have become such good chaps, and I don’t know what to do with all the money in my bank account.”
“Do you know what you sound like?” I snap.
Evidently not, because he leans in close enough to kiss me. God, heisdrunk.
“Whoa! Hey there!” Henry says, stepping forward as I shove August away.
“What are youthinking?” I yell.
Suddenly, the kitchen door bursts open.
“Don’t worry, Mom! Igothim. Die, Joker!” Brandishing the high-powered Nerf gun, Heathcliff promptly shoots A.D. Hemmings in the privates.
“Owwwwwwwwww!!!!!” August doubles over in pain.
“Heathcliff, what have I told you about shooting that in the house...?” And then Ms. Fernsby freezes in the doorway, one hand clapped over her mouth.
“But he’s the Joker, and he was going after Mom, so I shot him in the nuts!”
Henry and I stare at August, tears in his eyes, voice barely audible. “Buggers. I think I’m going to throw up.”
“Mr. Dansworth?” Heathcliff narrows his eyes, confused.
Dansworth gives a pathetic little wave to Heathcliff while still doubled over, face twisted in pain.
Dad appears silently behind Ms. Fernsby, taking in the scene.
“Mr. Dansworth was just leaving,” I say firmly.
“Come along, Heathie,” Ms. Fernsby says, shooing him away. “It’s past your bedtime.”
“Am I in trouble?”
“No. But your mum can take care of herself.”
She leaves, but Dad stands in the doorway with the hint of a smile.
August straightens himself and attempts to regain his composure as he glances back and forth between me and Henry.
“Is it because ofhim?”
“I wouldn’t go on another date with you in a million years. But Henry here, he’s amazing.”
“So, Elizabeth, you’re really going to fly back to America with this William bloody Faulkner gent, have lots of babies and eat—” he grimaces “—gritsevery morning?”
Henry smirks, clearly amused.
“We still have to decide about the grits and babies parts, but...” I look over at Henry. “Yes, I’m flying back with him.”
“Very well, then, I guess that’s my cue. Too bad. Elizabeth, you and I—we could have kept dancing; we could have been the literary golden couple, the new Zelda and Scott.”
“I prefer happiness.”
Henry politely holds the door open.
“Sod the fuck off,” August mutters to him as he leaves.
I cross my arms, sighing as Henry bolts the front door.
