I sat beside him on the floor, the smell of the pizzas between us making my mouth water. The work had made me hungry, and pizza for dinner was so much better than the fruit I’d taken from the bowls in the hotel corridors.
“I got us vegan pizzas. One margarita and one with mushrooms. If you don’t like them, we can get something else,” Henry said, opening the boxes.
The sight made my stomach rumble. I grabbed a slice and took a bite, and the flavours exploded in my mouth. The crust was crispy, the tomato sauce perfectly seasoned and the vegan cheese melted deliciously on my tongue.
“So tasty,” I mumbled with my mouth full.
“I’m glad. I was thinking about taking you to The Meridian, Logan’s restaurant. But after you forced me to pay for your food at McDonald’s, I wasn’t sure if it’d be your thing,” Henry paused, then added, “Also, the arsehole can’t even get a table for his own brother.”
I laughed. “Pizza is perfect. I’m usually roaming the streets at about this time, looking through bins for something edible that isn’t mouldy.”
Henry had taken a slice too, but now he stopped short and stared at me. Not in surprise, as he had earlier when I’d opened the door to him, but in dismay. A wave of embarrassment washed over me. I thought I’d shaken off my shame about being homeless, since it didn’t get me anywhere, but Henry’s appalled expression brought the feelings rushing back to the surface.
I lowered my eyes. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be a downer.”
Henry’s gaze softened. “You’re not.”
“Oh, really? You should have seen your face just now,” I said, wrestling my shame and the pain I’d felt at his response back into the box it had escaped from.
“I’m sorry. I just didn’t expect you to say something like that.”
“It’s fine. Forget it.”
“No, I’m interested.”
“Why? Is your luxurious life boring you?” I couldn’t hide my bitterness, but Henry didn’t seem to take offence. I didn’t want to be this way, especially not towards him—he wasn’t responsible for my situation.
He snorted. “I wish it were boring.”
“Grace told me a bit about it,” I admitted. I’d always assumed that rich people didn’t have problems, because money would have solved all of mine. But Henry was facing very different challenges.
He looked up from his pizza. “What about?”
“The thing with your dad, and what it means for the hotel. Sounds terrible.”
Henry laughed mirthlessly. “It is terrible.”
“And you’re running the hotel all by yourself?” I asked curiously.
“Yes. I have people who help, of course, and my dad has kept enough shares to make sure I can’t push him out, but since he’s taken a step back from actively running the hotel, I make most of the decisions.”
“Would you do it? Push your dad out?”
“Yes.” The resolve in Henry’s immediate response was unexpected. “If the situation weren’t so delicate, I’d definitely have done it by now. But the way things are at the moment, it would do too much damage.”
“So you believe he raped those women?”
He pressed his lips together. Something dark flashed behind his eyes—anger, frustration, disappointment—but he didn’t let it out. “I’m sorry, but I can’t talk about it. Can we change the topic?”
“Sure,” I said, even though I believed it was unhealthy to bottle it all up. I could practically see Henry grabbing hold of his feelings one by one and locking them away, until all that remained was his exhaustion.
“How was your first day of work?” he asked.
“Tiring, but nice,” I responded honestly. I could tell that he was genuinely interested, and that the question hadn’t just been a distraction ploy. “I was a bit unsure at first, because I don’t have any hotel experience, but Grace explained everything really well. She’s super nice and doesn’t care that you and I know each other. Some of the others think it’s strange.”
“Have they said something to you?” he asked, and shifted slightly to find a comfier position. His leg briefly touched my knee.
“No, but people are talking about us.”
