“But youcanstill tell me if you feel sad…” he added.
I rolled onto my back with a huff. “I’m not sad over your brother being in a relationship. I’m pissed I didn’t see it coming, and I’m pissed that I’m pissed about that. But I’m over it. End of story.”
“You didn’t sound very over it yesterday…”
“Well,” I said, pushing upright, “fuck off.”
Henry laughed as I stood. He folded his arms behind his head, giving me that unimpressed, I-know-your-bullshit look. “If I were getting in the middle—which I am not—I’d say he didn’t look very over it either.”
“But you’re not.”
“You’re right, I’m not,” he said breezily. “So what I’m actually saying is that you can tell me if you’re sad over the sky being blue or whatever—so we don’t have to say the thing we both know we’re actually talking about.”
I blinked.
“That Ash is the sky, and blue is that he has a boyfriend?—”
“Henny,” I warned, lifting a finger.
“Yes, babe?”
I dragged my palm down my face and let out a slow breath.
Silence settled between us as I stared at the ceiling. He didn’t push. Didn’t fill the space. Just gave me the opening and trusted me to step through it.
I lasted all of three seconds.
“So he moved on,” I said. “Good for him. Seriously. Good for him.”
Henry didn’t react—just watched me with quiet patience, like he’d known this was exactly where we’d end up.
“That’s what people do, right? They move on. They date emotionally available adults with stable lives and matching shoes and shit.”
The tension crept in, and the words slipped out before I could stop them. “I just don’t fucking get him.”
Henry’s brows lifted slightly, his lips twitching as he fought a smile. “Get who?”
“Luca,” I said. “Did you see him? The fundraiser, the gala, the opera house charity circuit… he looks like he belongs in a perfume ad, not next to your brother.”
He pressed his lips together, clearly enjoying this.
“He’s not even Ash’s type.”
“Oh?” Henry said carefully. “And what is Ash’s type?”
I opened my mouth.
Closed it.
“You know…” I said.
Henry waited.
Heat crawled up my neck as I waved a hand through the air, very much not pointing at myself. “Short.”
Henry stared at me for half a second, eyes going wide before he lost it—full-body laughter, doubled over, wheezing, absolutely no loyalty whatsoever.
“Fuck you,” I snapped again, grabbing a pillow and throwing it at him. “You know I’m right.”
