At this, my head snaps to look at him. He flashes that stupid dimple at me, and I don’t see the tree root but feel it against the toe of my running shoe.Fuck.
Arms pinwheeling in a way that should come with a slipped-on-a-banana-peel sound effect, every prepubescent year of my youth flashes before my eyes in a kaleidoscope of too-long limbs and sweaty humiliation. I fall fast and I fall hard, barely saving myself from a mouthful of dirt with my outstretched hands. Head pounding and still panting, it’s a moment before the sting hits my palms and ego.
“Shit!” Henry shouts, skidding to a stop next to me. He crouches down in the rising dust, shouting at top volume, “Judy!Judy, speak to me!”
He grabs my shoulders, but by now, I’m pushing myself off the ground, sucking in gulps of air. I wave him off, sitting back on my heels and closing my eyes.Jesus. Why the hell didn’t I see—
And then it comes back to me. Henry wants to ask Gracie out.
“You’re bleeding,” he says, grabbing my wrist to look at the mess I’ve made of my palms.
I snatch my hand back. “I’m fine,” I say, forcing my legs to stand me back up.
“Man, I haven’t seen someone bite the dust that hard since… ever. Are you okay?”
I brush myself off and try not to feel as shaken as I am. “Yeah. I’m okay, thanks.”
He looks at me for a long moment, biting the inside of his cheek.
“You don’t look okay. This isn’t about what I said about Gracie, is it?”
Slowly, I limp back into a jog, unable to look at him. “You only met her the one time, right? How do you know if you’d even like her?”
At this, Henry hesitates. “Actually, I came to see her the other day to discuss the transfer of the cottage and sign paperwork.”
“You visited her? Here? Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask, feeling inexplicably affronted.
Henry shrugs. “I was doing my job. You don’t tell me about every meeting you have, do you?”
I have nothing to say to this, because he’s absolutely right. “I’venever heard of the probate process finishing so quickly,” I point out instead. “You must have set a record.”
At this, he looks a little abashed. “I may have prioritized her case.”
No need to ask why. Henry wouldn’t dream of asking a client out because of ethical reasons, but with the cottage officially transferred to Gracie, he’s technically in the clear. Suddenly, I feel completely winded.
“So, you like her,” I manage, even though it’s a foregone conclusion. Who the hell wouldn’t like Gracie? But Henry—who openly talks about his desire to find “the one”—has a habit of testing the waters with most, if not all, of his female acquaintances.
“There’s something about her, man,” he says, shaking his head. “After she stood up to you in the garden, I couldn’t stop thinking that I’d like to get to know her better—no offense. Then when I stopped by, she was just so… I don’t know.Lovely.” He laughs at himself. “You know what I mean, though? She’s fucking lovely.”
Yes, I do know. I know she smells like flowers drowned in honey and is the only reason my grief over losing Nana hasn’t suffocated me. I know I’ve never felt this way about anyone, and unless I’m wildly mistaken, neither will my best friend.
“So what do you think?” he asks, punching my shoulder lightly. “Should I ask her out?”
I bite my tongue as my entire brain vibrates with a resounding, illogicalNO. I’m not okay with Henry asking Gracie out, even though I should be. She already told me she thinks he’s handsome, and I know better than anyone that he’s the whole package. Smart, successful, funny, relentlessly kind. On top of all this, he’s looking for exactly the same thing she is—Happily Ever After. They’d be perfect for each other, and if I were a decent friend and human being, I would have already suggested the match.
But I’m not a decent friend or human being. I’m a greedy, possessive asshole, hung up over someone who doesn’t and will never belong to me. The simple truth is, I’m not capable of giving her a fraction of what she needs or deserves.
It’s this depressing thought that finally makes me say, “Youdon’t need to ask me for permission, Hen. You should go for it if you like her.”
“I know I don’t need your blessing.” He keeps his eyes ahead on the trail as he says, “Just making sure all the I-Hate-You energy between you two isn’t more like I-Hate-You-Let’s-Fuck-It-Out energy.”
I will my feet not to stumble again because suddenly, I’m back in that bar with the warmth of her citrus exhale on my lips. One inch and one bad decision away from sinking my fingers into the flare of her hips in that fucking dress and ruining the tentative truce we’ve established. But I know she was just caught up in the moment. She might be attracted to me, but there are about ten thousand good reasons why she should stay away from me. So I say, “Absolutely not. Don’t let me get in your way.”
“Well, it wouldn’t be the first time, would it?” Henry’s voice is deceptively light, and he’s still not looking at me.
“What are you talking about?”
“Oh, come on. Every time we go out, I may as well be a coatrack next to you.”
