“It wasn’t all bad, Henry,” I say.“I excelled in my art classes.I had the library, science labs, and… you.”
His eyes slip over me with something softer, almost wanton, tracing the lines of my tattoos and pausing at my breasts.“Didn’t you tell me that flowers are little more than lovely sex organs?”
A laugh emerges while my cheeks heat under his gaze.“So, you did listen to me?”
“Always,” he says.“You’ve covered yourself in lovely sex organs.What does that say about you?”
“Freud might have some theories.But they’re not all sex organs.Fronds, foliage, and seeds, too.They all mean something to me, though.”I motion to the daisies he can see peeking over the corset of my dress.“The heads of daisies aren’t just one flower.They’re made up of many tiny flowers.A whole world on each tiny flower head, all its friends and family in one place… no wonder Meg Ryan deemed it the friendliest flower inYou’ve Got Mail.”
“Is that why you got that tattoo?”
“This was my first.I got it for you, to keep you close, even if we couldn’t be.”
His lips form a rigid line as his eyes lock on me, in an expression I can’t gauge, but that makes my heart sputter and race in the fear that my admission hurts him further.
DeeDee arrives with the check, which I snatch before Henry can.I quickly pay with money from my phone case.When she returns for it, I tell her to keep the change and say, “Thanks for making me feel pretty.”
“Oh, honey, you’re gorgeous!Come back anytime you need the reminder,” she gushes.“Hope you two enjoyed catching up.”
I nod, tears circulating in my irises at the realization that it’s over.She saunters off, carrying our dirty dishes, and my eyes return to Henry’s, fixating on him because he’s already staring.
“Thank you for listening to me,” I say.
“Thanks for coming back and explaining.”
I nod, desperately holding back tears over our looming end and not wanting to say goodbye.“I could install the garden, if you want.I mean, I could do it when you’re not there or…”
He slips from the booth and reaches out to me.My hand falls into his as he helps me scoot out.The tips of our fingers linger together as he leads us through the brightly lit, friendly restaurant.We exit to the dark street, lightly peppered with people, and music thumping from a bar on the corner.He takes my hand, almost roughly, and pulls me along the sidewalk, away from the activity and toward the museum.
Under a streetlight on the Riverwalk, he suddenly stops, drops my hand, and pushes up his glasses, looking frustrated.
“Do you feel better?”he asks.
“Yes.Being with you always makes me feel better.It was good to explain.Do you feel better?”
His hand skates through his messy hair while he groans at the question.“No, Venus.I don’t feel better.I feel fucking worse.”
CHAPTER13
Henry
My gruff declarationforces Venus to backstep, her hands fondling her bracelets with familiar agitation.
But she doesn’t run.
She spilled her soul tonight, cut herself open, and laid herself, gutted, before me with honesty and vulnerability, feelings that, frankly, I came to believe her incapable of expressing.After she was gone, anger filled the gaping hole she left behind, crowding out what I once adored about her.
I forgot how loving she could be.
How funny.
How protective.
I forgot how hard she tried to contain her feelings so that they wouldn’t betray her.
I forgother.
Instead, my defenses kicked in, deeming her cold and heartless for leaving me.
