Page 67

“Hen?” I say, once I’m done chewing. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I was a jerk this week.”

“It doesn’t matter. I deserved it.”

“Not all of it,” I say simply. “And everything with the houses—I didn’t think I was going to react like that.”

Henry nods slowly but doesn’t say anything. He just swivels slightly to face me, somehow knowing I have more to say.

“I hated coming home without him there. This is the first time in two years that I’ve been back, and before that, it was probably another year or so too. It’s been nine years, and I keep thinking it’s going to get easier, that it’ll numb in some way. And when I’m in New York, and no one knows I’m the girl whose dad dropped dead at the Jewel-Osco deli counter, the ache gets quieter.

“I should be thrilled that Mom is selling the house. Really. And she says that Dad always hated it, which I don’t fully believe, but I get why it helps her to say that. I should be so happy to be able to move on from this place that feels haunted to me. I couldn’t stand being in the house, but knowing it was there, that the memory of him was present, that my room was still how he would have remembered, I don’t know, it was comforting.”

Henry hooks his foot around the leg of my stool, pulling my seat closer to him. Our knees press together, and he places his hands on my thighs, looking at me softly. “I don’t think losing your dad is something you can get closure from. But that’s okay. You can keep his memory locked away if you need, but I just want you to know, with me, you don’t have to.”

I nod, feeling my eyes getting hot. I try to blink away the tears, but they’re already falling fast. Henry’s hands move to my face, gently brushing them away with his thumbs.

“I loved him too,” he says quietly.

I meet his gaze, noticing that Henry’s eyes are glassy. “I know you did.”

I stand up, pushing my stool back and lowering his head to mine. I gently kiss all the places the salty tears hit his face, his arms anchoring me, holding me up when I feel like I might just dissolve into him. It’s not even sexually charged at this point, just raw emotion, the two of us bound by something so much deeper than I’m ready to admit.

“He would have gotten a real kick out of this,” I say finally.

“Yeah, I bet,” Henry chuckles. “Would’ve loved me ravaging his daughter.”

I roll my eyes at him. “You know what I mean.”

Henry kisses me softly. “I do.”

Chapter 20

I wake up the next morning in Henry’s bed, his body cocooning mine. I feel sore and exhausted from the two other times we had sex throughout the night, but I can’t stop smiling. I shift on the bed, and Henry grunts, pulling me closer, my ass flush against another erection.

“I think we have to go face reality,” I say, rolling onto my other side to face him.

He adjusts, eyes still closed, pressing himself against me, arms coming around to circle my hips, my ass, my face. His hand weaves through my messy hair, pulling my lips to his, his tongue dancing against mine until I feel that low pull again.

“We should shower, but…” I trail off, running my palm along the length of him.

His eyes finally open, and he looks starved for me, even though we have spent most waking moments of the last twelve hours fucking furiously.

Henry rolls onto his back, throwing a forearm over his face. “I only had those three condoms.”

“Okay.” I prop my head up with my hand. “I have a few thoughts on this. One, there are plenty of other things we can do. Two, we can get more today, which actually leads me to three.” I pause. This idea had been racing through my head as I fell asleep. “Three, we can make appointments today at Planned Parenthood and get tested. I’m sure we’re both clear, but just to be safe, you know? We’ll have results when we’re back in New York, and then…if you’re comfortable, we could ditch the condoms. I have an IUD, and I know we haven’t talked about what this all means, or exclusivity, but—”

“Yes,” he says quickly, and I can feel his heart racing in his breathy tone alone. “Norah, I’m all in. What do you think me telling you I’m hopelessly in latke with you means?”

I smile at him.

“Honestly, though, the thought of being inside you without any barrier, really feeling you…Jesus, Norah, touch me once and I’m a goner.”

Feeling wild with power, I inch toward him. “Better make it count, then,” I say with a wink.

* * *

There is no hiding what’s going on between us. We eventually make our way back to my house, me still wearing Henry’s baseball zip-up hoodie. If Hannah hasn’t filled in the obvious to our moms, it will be clear as soon as we walk through the door. I can see them through the bay window, drinking coffee on the couch.

He takes my hand, circling the base of my thumb with his own. “I’ve got you.”