Everything She Never Wanted

Chapter 2

2

Cynthia smoothed out her charcoal skirt as she climbed from her car. She hated going to wakes and funerals, but she knew she owed it to Henry and his mom. Even though the last time she saw Henry ended with a fight and words she’d regretted the moment she spoke them, she still thought of Henry frequently. She missed him daily, but she knew they weren’t right for each other. They’d always wanted different things in life. There was a part of her that wished she’d find another guy like him, but there was definitely only one Henry Wilson.

In high school, Henry was a geek. He didn’t play any sports and wasn’t one of the cool kids, and it showed. He wore glasses over the kindest blue eyes she’d ever seen, which Cynthia always thought made him look smart, not dorky, but Henry hated them. He was an overweight kid, something he threw in her face as an accusation when she said she didn’t love him the way he loved her. She never cared about his weight, but the damage was done.

Seeing Henry again would be nice. She hoped they could be friends but knew it was a long shot. When Henry admitted he loved her, it destroyed their friendship. For him, not her. She still wanted to be friends, but he wanted nothing to do with her.

She just hoped he wasn’t still in love with her. She was not looking to get attached while she was in Bereton. Once she was settled somewhere new, she hoped she’d be able to finally find a guy that was worth her time. Unlike the career focused, ladder climbing, cheating jackasses she met in Philadelphia. She knew there were decent guys there, some of her friends met some, but she never found someone who worked for her.

Eventually Cynthia realized it wasn’t just them, it was her.

But finding a boyfriend was the last thing she was thinking about as she walked into Russell’s Funeral Home.

The place was crowded, as Cynthia had expected. Amavita Estates was one of the biggest and most popular vineyards in the area. On top of that, Victor was well liked in the community.

Cynthia worked her way through the crowd. She thought she recognized a few of Henry’s cousins, but she didn’t say anything to them. It had been fifteen years since she’d been to Henry’s house. Even if they did recognize her, she was sure most of them wouldn’t want to talk to her.

Cynthia signed the guest book and made her way into the viewing room. She paused by the casket and knelt down to say a silent prayer for Mr. Wilson. He looked like the same man she remembered, but older. Cynthia always hated the way the deceased looked different than when they were alive. It helped her separate them though. When she saw a person in a casket and they looked like someone else entirely, she had an easier time saying goodbye.

A line formed beyond the casket and Cynthia stood with the crowd. She noticed Josephine, Henry’s mom, standing a few feet away. She looked stunning, as she always had. She had to be close to 58, like Victor was, but she didn’t look it. Her rich brown hair was streaked with gray, giving her an elegant look. Her blue eyes, the same ones Henry had, were shining with unshed tears. Cynthia just wanted to wrap her in a hug and take all her sorrow away.

Cynthia looked beyond Mrs. Wilson but didn’t see Henry or Ryan. She knew they would be there, but she’d hoped to see Henry without too much of a big deal. Dropping in on him like she was felt sneaky. She didn’t feel like she belonged there, but she decided her mom was right and she wanted to be there for her friend, even if they hadn’t spoken in years.

Mrs. Wilson extended her hand as Cynthia approached and thanked her for coming. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Mrs. Wilson. I doubt you remember me, but I went to school with Henry.”

“Mom.” A man interrupted them before Mrs. Wilson could say anything. Cynthia’s eyes ran down his muscled frame, appraising his broad shoulders and trim waist. His dark sandy hair was cut short and trimmed nicely, probably for the service. He was wearing a charcoal suit with a black shirt with the top few buttons undone. His smooth chest was exposed, and Cynthia wanted to weave her hands in his hair and her tongue across his chest.

Shit, she admonished herself. I can’t be lusting after Henry’s little brother.

He looked over at her and nodded before continuing on. “Go sit for a little while. Aunt Christina has some food in the back.”

Mrs. Wilson nodded and caressed his face with her palm, smiling up at her son. “Thank you, honey.” Mrs. Wilson glanced back at Cynthia and smiled. “This beautiful young woman said she went to school with you. I imagine she’s really here for you. Why don’t you talk for a minute?”

Henry turned and looked at Cynthia and her breath caught in her throat. She should have recognized those blue eyes. She wasn’t checking out Henry’s younger brother, she was checking out Henry.

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I… wait, Cynthia?” A grin teased his lips when he said her name. “Oh, wow, Cynthia Hill. How have you been?”

Cynthia’s shoulders relaxed, and she exhaled a deep breath. She really wasn’t sure how he would feel about her being there. The last time she saw him didn’t go well. But he was just Henry again.

A hot version, but still just Henry.

Henry nodded to his mom, then lightly gripped Cynthia’s elbow and guided her away from the crowd. “Oh, I don’t want to take you from…” she trailed off, unsure how to say the words.

“It’s fine. I’d much rather see you than have to talk to one more person.”

He turned his face from hers, and she could tell he was trying to calm his emotions. Henry’s family always meant everything to him. Losing any of them was bound to be hard on him.

“I’m sorry to drop in on you like this.”

“No, it’s fine. What are you doing in town?”

“I moved back about a month ago. I lost my job and needed a place to stay until I find something else. I’m living with my mom.”

“Wow, back home. It’s great to see you.”

Someone said hi to him and stopped to shake his hand. Henry thanked him and said he’d be back in the room in a few minutes. Cynthia knew she was pushing her luck being there.

“Listen, I hate to ask you this, but it’s kind of crazy here right now. Do you mind waiting for a little while and we can talk? I’d really like to catch up with you. Everyone should clear out in about thirty minutes.”

“Uh, well…” Cynthia wasn’t sure how to answer him. She loved the idea of spending time with Henry but wasn’t sure about interfering with his family time.

“It’s okay if you’re busy. Maybe another time then. It was nice to see you, Cynthia.” Henry turned to walk back to his mom, but Cynthia stopped him.

“No, Henry, it’s not that. I’m available. I just don’t want to intrude with your family.”

He smiled and Cynthia saw the boy she was best friends with in high school. He may have replaced fat with muscle and grown a few inches, but he was still the same Henry underneath.

“You won’t be intruding. I promise. It’ll be nice to have something else to think about for a little while.”

“Okay, then that sounds great.”

Henry walked back into the viewing room, his head spinning even more than it was before. Cynthia Hill was there. At his father’s funeral. He wasn’t sure which he expected less. To bury his father before he turned sixty, or to ever see Cynthia again.

His mother was still at the front of the line, but Ryan was beside her. Henry walked over, hoping he wouldn’t get distracted again.

“Mom. Go rest.”

She shook her head. “It’s almost over.”

“You need to relax a little, Mom.”

She looked up at him with a watery grin and patted his cheek. “You look so much like him.” She swung her eyes to Ryan. “And you have his eyes. He was so proud of both of you.”

Tears stung Henry’s eyes, but he was determined not to let them fall. He had to be strong for his mom and little brother. Ryan was twenty-six, definitely an adult, but Henry was the oldest. Henry was always the one with the level head. The one they looked to when they needed guidance. The age difference between him and his brother was more of a benefit than a hindrance. It gave them a different relationship. Seven years was a big gap, but as they’d both grown, Henry knew he liked the person his brother had become.

And it was all because of their dad.

Henry had no words for his mother. He knew his dad constantly told her how much he loved her. He doted on her, buying her gifts for no reason and making sure he was home every night for dinner, even if it meant going back to work afterward. Henry grew up knowing only a few things. His dad was his hero. His dad adored his mom. His mom would do anything for his dad. And his grandmother was crazy.

“He had a good life,” Nonna said, joining them.

Henry stepped back to allow his grandmother to join their small circle. The people left in the funeral home were talking to each other instead of waiting to see Henry, Ryan, or their mom.

“He did, Ma,” Jo said. “He wasn’t ready to go, but he’s with daddy and his parents.”

“He’s in good hands,” Nonna said. “I was sure the next funeral this family saw was mine. I’m sorry it wasn’t.”

“We’re not ready to lose you either, Nonna,” Ryan said, hugging their grandmother.

“I’m not going anywhere if I have a say. But one thing we all learned this week is we don’t get to choose.”

Henry hugged his mother tighter to his side, letting her draw strength from him. He knew she had to be ready to collapse. She hadn’t stopped since Wednesday morning. He and Ryan stayed in the hotel with her Tuesday night, but Wednesday morning she was on the phone making arrangements for the funeral. She said there was no reason to wait, even though they wouldn’t be able to go through with the burial until the ground thawed. It would be months before Victor was finally at rest, but Jo didn’t want to wait to celebrate his life.

And that’s what she insisted his funeral was. A celebration of his life. Father Richard pushed back slightly when Jo offered her suggestions for the funeral, but she convinced him that it was what Victor would have wanted. Henry was proud of his mom, but he wasn’t sure how he’d survive such a happy event when his heart broke every second.

Ironic that the last time he saw Cynthia he had the same feeling.

He stayed with his mom until the crowd finally thinned to only the immediate family. They’d all rallied together to take care of Jo, but Henry and Ryan were staying with their mom for a few days. When she didn’t argue after they got home from New York, Henry knew she was crushed. He didn’t have Zach’s cooking skills, or any really, but he was doing what he could do take care of his mom.

“Why don’t you two go home tonight?” Jo said when they all moved to one of the couches to sit. “You both should be in your own beds.”

“Mom-”

She shook her head to silence the immediate protest from both Henry and Ryan. “I’m serious, boys. I need a night to myself. A night that I can cry and yell and throw things and not worry about my boys thinking I’ve lost it.”

A knife to the chest couldn’t have hurt more than knowing how broken his mother was. Henry wanted to argue, but he saw the pain in her eyes. He didn’t know what it was like to lose the love of his life, but he knew what it was like to lose his best friend. He wanted to do the same thing, and he didn’t blame his mother one bit for her emotions.

“Okay, Mom. But you call if you need anything. Any time. You know I don’t care.”

“Me too,” Ryan agreed. “Anything. We’ll be there.”

Jo nodded and patted their cheeks. “Thank you boys. Why don’t you head out. I’ll get a ride home with Marie.”

“Why?”

She smiled at them. “Ryan, go see your friends. You and Leo go out. Do something to pull you out of this grief. And Henry? Go see Cynthia. I know she’s waiting for you. She keeps peeking in here.”

“Cynthia Hill?” Ryan asked with a note of anger. “What the hell is she doing here?”

“She just came to pay her respects,” Jo said before Henry could answer.

He knew why his brother was angry. He was there when Henry declared his feelings for Cynthia, but he was young. Over the years, he was sure Ryan heard the story over and over with plenty of embellishments. None of which made Cynthia out to be the good guy.

“Tell her to go to hell,” Ryan spat.

“I love that you’re angry for your brother,” Jo said, “but you don’t know everything that happened between them. She’s here. I think that says something.”

“Yeah, she was bored or something.”

Henry wanted to defend Cynthia, but the truth was he had no idea why she turned up. She said she’d been in town for a month. Why hadn’t she called him? Or gone to see him? Why wait until his father died?

Maybe she didn’t know how to approach him. Or she was just scared and figured he wouldn’t make a scene at the wake. It didn’t matter to him though. He was happy to see her. Fifteen years had dulled a lot of the pain he felt when she told him she didn’t love him. He wouldn’t make the same mistakes again with her, but he wasn’t going to walk away from the best friend he ever had that wasn’t related to him.

“I think I’ll go ask what she’s doing here,” Henry said, shrugging. “I haven’t spoken to her in fifteen years, but maybe it’s time to let the past go.”

Jo pulled him in for a hug and whispered, “Your father always liked Cynthia.”

Henry didn’t know why his mom told him that, but it made it easier to approach the woman who’d trashed his fragile eighteen year old heart in front of his entire family.

“Hey,” Cynthia said softly when he walked back over to her. She was sitting on a bench outside the viewing room, her legs crossed, a black heel dangling from her toes. The charcoal skirt she wore rode up and flashed more thigh than he’d seen from her outside the pool. She’d put on weigh in the last fifteen years, but she looked good. Lush curves that captured her youth and gave her an elegant, feminine look. She could have modeled for Botticelli.

Henry would’ve given his last dime for a copy of that painting.

“Why are you here?” he asked, unable to stop the question from erupting between them.

Her foot stopped bouncing and her throat moved with the effort she made to swallow. She shifted her weight, her shoe sliding back into place, then stood before him. His eyes ran down her body, not under his control, taking in the curves the her dark clothes struggled to hide. She was still stunning, but with the extra curves, she stole his breath. His attraction to her when they were growing up went far deeper than her looks, but he didn’t know the woman standing in front of him. All he knew was that she was gorgeous.

“I know I shouldn’t have come. I’m sorry. I just wanted to say I was sorry. Your dad was an amazing man.”

She turned to leave and Henry knew he had to stop her. He wasn’t ready for her to walk away yet. He hated her and loved her at the same time. No, he wasn’t in love with her. But he still felt protective of her. The girl who’d crawled into his bed more times than he could count. The girl who shared that she always wished she had a dad like his. The girl who wanted every man except the one whose bed she shared on a regular basis.

“He always liked you,” Henry blurted.

She paused, just starting to turn the corner. If she took another two steps, she’d be out of his sight. But she stopped and turned toward him. Her lips turned up and she took a tentative step back. “I always liked him, too.”

“He asked me all the time why we stopped talking.”

“He was there.”

Henry nodded, not strong enough to relive that day with her. “He missed you. He would have been glad you came.”

“I’m sorry I haven’t been here, Henry. That I wasn’t around. That I haven’t seen him, or you.”

Henry nodded again, unsure what to say to her. He knew why she wasn’t there. He understood it. He wanted her to fight for him. For their friendship. But she was gone. She went back to college after that break, and he didn’t know if she’d returned at all until now.

“I hope you’ve had a good life. That you’re happy.”

She shrugged, not answering his question, but telling him she wasn’t happy. A part of him wanted to cheer that she hadn’t married some amazing man and lived a dream life, but that Henry couldn’t bring himself to find happiness in her misery.

“I’m sorry about your job. What are you going to do?”

They talked about Cynthia’s job, Henry feeling odd the whole time. He and Cynthia never struggled to say anything to each other. Their conversations, even when they first met, were easy. But talking about her job, hearing about a life he didn’t know anything about, made him feel even more uncomfortable than his suit that didn’t fit quite right.

“Let’s get out of here,” he blurted.

She stopped talking, mid-sentence, and gaped at him.

“Unless you have something else going on.”

She shook her head. “No. Um, I’m free.”

Henry stood, finally feeling lighter. He grasped her hand like he’d done hundreds of times before and pulled her toward the door. He got outside and realized he hadn’t thought things through because he’d ridden with Ryan and his mom.

Thankfully, Cynthia understood his dilemma. “My car. Over here.”

He followed her and grinned when she tossed him the keys. He caught them and slid behind the wheel of her car. He cranked the engine, warming his hands in front of the vents as cold air blasted around them. He thought for a minute, then finally realized there was only one place he could go with Cynthia.