“Oh, Theo invited me.”
“Who’s Theo?” he asks.
From behind him, I hear, “That would be me.”
Theo walks to stand between us, extending a hand to Henry, which he ignores. Theo drapes an arm carelessly over my shoulders, as if he’s done it a hundred times. I try to stop the irrational heat from rising to my cheeks.
“And how did you two meet?” asks Henry, arms folded. He’s built more solid than Theo, who despite the constant tennis playing is still skinny, but Theo is taller.
“We work together,” I quickly answer. “At the club.”
“You work at the yacht club?” His tone is edgier than I’m used to. “What happened to your real job?”
He sounds on the verge of scoffing, and suddenly, I’m embarrassed—not for myself, but on behalf of him. Before I can answer and explain how I was fired, Theo is speaking.
“Oh, she only joined to help us out a bit while she works on becoming the next great American artist.” He squeezes my shoulders as if in premature congratulations.
His words are slightly slurred—I wonder how many beers he’s already drank. There’s a container of Gripah from Cisco sloshing in the hand over my shoulder. “I’m getting my autograph framed ahead of time. It’ll be worth more than gold someday.”
Theo winks at Henry.
“I know all about Lily’s art,” says Henry, his stance widening. “And when exactly did you two meet?”
Theo and I answer simultaneously.
“About two weeks ago,” I say at the same time Theo says, “It feels like forever!”
Henry laughs again. It’s a cold, harsh sound. “Right. Well, Lily and I go way back. We’ve known each other since we were eighteen.”
I look at Theo. “We used to date,” I explain, an apology in my voice.
“I see,” says Theo. I feel the weight of his arm lift from my shoulders. “Well, there are a few people I want to introduce Lily to, but it was nice meeting you, dude.”
Theo takes me by the hand and leads me away from Henry. I turn to see he’s still watching us, the fire reflected in his eyes. My sandals catch on the sand, and I almost trip into a log a few people are sitting on. One of the boys looks up to give me a disgruntled look. He’s wearing a baseball cap despite the fact that there’s no sun to shield.
“Sorry, sorry,” I say but my voice isn’t loud enough to carry over the music and the roar of the ocean and the crackle of the fast-burning wood.
An hour and two beers later, my insides have loosened. Theo introduces me to a few other employees of the club, and we all talk in a group off to the side downwind from the bonfire. Emily approaches and asks Theo to go on a walk, and as I watch them stroll away I feel a fissure in my chest like the aftershock of a larger earthquake.
In the conversation with Henry, Theo seemed almost like a possessive boyfriend. While I didn’t exactly love the obnoxious display of toxic masculinity, it at least seemed clear what his intention was, but now, he’s off with Emily. I can’t see them in the dim light, but I know they must be only a few yards away.
I check to see if Henry’s fiancée is around. I don’t see her, but Becca is across the way. Normally, I’d go over to talk with her, but she’s sitting with a few tiny girls with tight, slicked-back buns and gold, dangly earrings. I know who they are without needing an introduction: Henry’s home friends. The only true upside of our breakup is that I never have to force conversation with any of them again.
I wave Becca over, but she points to the girls next to her as an excuse not to get up. I hope this doesn’t mean she’s mad at me, too. For not the first time this summer, I wish Jade was here. If Jade was around, we’d laugh together about the awkwardness of the situation. She might have called Henry a jerk or made fun of the way Theo postured, but she would be there for me. I know that.
One of the biggest shocks of my adult life has been how easy it is to lose people, to let them slide away. Keeping someone around takes dedication: It’s the exception, not the rule.
“Hi, Lily-pad,” says Henry, appearing behind me. “Can we go somewhere to talk?”
The fire softens his expression, rounds out the angles of his face. He looks like the Henry I know, the one I still love. But he’s not. He is someone else’s Henry now, and I need to remember that.
“Talk about what?”
He steps closer. “I don’t know, anything. Let’s catch up.” Henry reaches for the sleeve of my sweater. “It’s been too long.”
“You’re engaged,” I remind him.
“So, that means we can’t be friends anymore?”
