Everything She Never Wanted

Chapter 4

4

“Why don’t you go talk to him?” Vivian said, nudging Cynthia. “He keeps looking over here.”

Cynthia shook her head. She was content to sit in the corner at The Drunken Grape instead of in the middle of everything. She had noticed Henry looking her way, but he was sitting with his cousins.

“It’s fine, Mom. I think he just invited us to be nice. It’s not like we’re going to be best friends again.”

“Why not?” Vivian asked as though it was that simple. “What ever happened with you guys?”

Cynthia looked at her mother, kind green eyes and long wavy brown hair that was starting to gray. She wore one of her loose skirts, in shades of gray, and a black sweater. Her mother always seemed part bohemian to Cynthia with her loose clothes, long skirts, and flowing hair. She’d have fit in perfectly with the flower children of the 60’s, except for her preference to have her nose in a book instead of inhaling one d**g or another. Then there was that free love thing. Her mom always passed on that, too.

Cynthia was certain her mother hadn’t had s*x since she conceived Cynthia, and even that was up for debate at times. Her mother surrendered her own happiness to ensure Cynthia’s, but they were both sitting in the corner, without another friend in sight.

Never mind a man to keep either of them warm at night.

“I know you didn’t drift apart like you always told me. Something happened that year you came home for Christmas.”

“He told me he loved me.”

“What?” Vivian asked with a chuckle. “You’re kidding.”

Cynthia shook her head, dragging her eyes from Henry to look her mother in the eye. “He gave me a diamond necklace and wrote this note that said he’d loved me forever but never had the courage to tell me. He wanted to show me what I meant to him and promised more gifts like that would be headed my way.”

“What did you say?” Vivian asked, her voice free of humor.

“I told him I couldn’t accept the necklace and that I didn’t feel that way about him.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah, wow. He was upset and his whole family ended up overhearing us arguing about it. He was really embarrassed and I felt like a complete b***h. Which, of course, I am. That’s why I’m surprised he’s even talking to me.”

“It’s been a long time, honey.”

Cynthia nodded, her eyes going back to Henry again. That day was one of the only times Cynthia didn’t tell Henry what was going on with her. When she didn’t spill her guts when she saw him. Maybe if she had, things would have been different, but it was too late for that. Henry was different than the boy she once knew. She took in his square jaw, freshly shaven, and his bright blue eyes and saw the same boy he’d always been. The years had definitely been good to him, but he would always be Henry to her. The same Henry.

He just stirred a few new feelings that she wasn’t used to.

“Do you think you would have accepted the necklace if it had come from Easton?”

Easton Keen. Her first love. The boyfriend she had the longest in high school. For about six months she thought they’d end up married, but she was foolish for even considering him as a long term guy. He cheated on her, more than once, and she was stupid enough to not push him about it. She thought she was in love with him, and that she just had to be a better girlfriend so he didn’t want to cheat.

Yeah, that worked.

“Easton wasn’t good for me. We were a trainwreck the entire time we were together. I never saw Henry as a possible boyfriend, but if he treated me the way Easton did we wouldn’t have been friends either.”

“Except you thought Easton was dreamy, and Henry was not, in your mind. If you put Henry’s personality in Easton’s body…”

Cynthia was mildly offended that her mother thought so little of her, but if she was honest, she was that shallow. At least, she was in high school. She never thought of Henry that way because she wasn’t attracted to him. She loved him, as a friend.

But now?

“I don’t know. Back then, I might have thought differently of Henry if he looked like Easton. I also probably wouldn’t have been so close to him. He was safe. There wasn’t anything besides friendship, but if that had been on the table, I wouldn’t have let him in.”

“What about now?” Vivian asked softly.

Cynthia looked across the room again. Henry tipped his head back and laughed at something one of his cousins said. She watched his shoulders shake with his laughter and sighed at how happy he looked. He didn’t need her in his life. All she did before was add drama. Drama he didn’t need. Then or now.

“It doesn’t matter, Mom. I’m leaving again. Eventually. And Henry has enough going on with his family right now. He’s definitely attractive, but I need to start thinking with something other than my… private parts.”

Vivian grinned. Cynthia knew it wasn’t typical, but her mom was always one of her closest friends. She knew when Cynthia had s*x for the first time. She was there when her heart was first broken. She encouraged her to follow her dreams to a big city to be a journalist. She even welcomed her back home when it didn’t work out. She knew it was different because it was her mom, but she could tell her mom anything. And did.

“Well, I can’t disagree with that entirely, but I’ve seen the way he’s been looking at you all day. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re the only reason he made it through the eulogy today, too. He searched the crowd for you before he started. And don’t pretend you didn’t notice.”

Cynthia shook her head. “I noticed, but I’m not what he needs.”

“Maybe you’re exactly what he needs. A best friend. Someone who isn’t related to him. You two leaned on each other for years. Why should it be different now? I’m not saying sleep with him, although you’re both consenting adults and I wouldn’t be opposed to having someone else trying to convince you to stay here, but I don’t know that he’s ready for something like that right now.”

“Mom!”

“Regardless,” Vivian continued, “I think he could use someone like you in his life. Why can’t you be the person he needs?”

Cynthia sighed. “He deserves more than I can offer him. A few weeks or months before I find another job. Besides, I have no idea what’s going on with him. He might be involved with someone.”

“If he was, she would be here. You know that as well as I do. And I think you’re selling him, and yourself, short. He wouldn’t have invited us and he wouldn’t be so interested in talking to you if he didn’t want to connect with you again.”

“He hasn’t spoken to me since we got here. What makes you think he wants to?”

Vivian grinned and stood. “Because he’s on his way over here. I’m going to speak to Jo.”

“No, Mom!” Cynthia hissed as her mother walked away, leaving her alone with Henry. He claimed Vivian’s seat as though it had been his all along.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

Cynthia forced a grin and nodded. “Of course. How are you?”

She ached to reach for him, but she couldn’t. She meant what she said to her mom. Henry deserved more than she could offer him.

“As good as can be expected, I guess. It all feels like some f****d up dream that I’m going to wake up from any minute now.”

Cynthia didn’t know what to say so she kept quiet.

“Anyway, I just wanted to thank you for coming. Zach is going out tonight so I’m alone. I wondered if you wanted to come over for dinner. We could catch up for real. Talk. You could tell me what you’ve been up to for the last fifteen years.”

His offer was more tempting than it should have been. She couldn’t remember the last time she spent an evening with a guy without wondering how long before he’d try to get her into bed. Men in Philadelphia, the ones she met, were quick to jump between the sheets. Most of the time it didn’t bother her, but once in a while she wanted to just have a conversation with someone. Not feeling like the guy she was out with was hurrying through dinner so he could get her n***d. She made it her own personal rule to avoid s*x until the third date after a few years and found herself with fewer and fewer dates as a result.

It was lonely, to say the least.

And then she met Kevin. But that was a whole different issue.

“That sounds nice,” she found herself saying.

Henry grinned, flashing her the same lopsided smile she remembered. “Great. Uh, do you want to change or do you want to come over after this?”

Cynthia looked down. “I’ll run home and change. Then I can drop off my mom.”

“Good. Do you remember how to get there?”

She shook her head, knowing it would all look different in daylight. Henry gave her directions to the cottage that he, and Zach apparently, lived in then went back to his family. He stopped on the way and spoke to her mom, who walked back with a wide smile.

“I hear you’re having dinner with Henry,” Vivian teased.

“I am. Is that okay with you?”

“Of course. Should we go so you can change and get back here before it’s too late?”

Cynthia nodded.

“You need to bring something, too. Do you want to stop somewhere and grab a dessert or something?”

Cynthia grinned. She knew exactly what she was going to bring.

Henry scooped the leftovers into a glass pan and sighed. Should he put it in the oven or wait until Cynthia got there? If he waited, she’d have to stay longer. If he put it in right away, she’d leave sooner.

He wasn’t sure which way he preferred.

The idea to invite Cynthia over for dinner was definitely a spur of the moment decision. He wanted to talk to her before she could sneak out, but he didn’t plan to see her again.

Then the thought of being home alone for the evening made him panic.

He knew eventually he was going to be alone. He couldn’t spend every night with his mom. Zach worked long hours. Hell, in the summer he did, too. Hiding from the deafening silence was not going to bring his father back. But he could delay the pain for a few more hours.

Henry turned the oven on, figuring he could at least get that heated so they could eat shortly after Cynthia arrived. He looked at the Parmesan chicken and baked ziti in the pan, his father’s favorite dishes, and fought the urge to throw it all against the wall. He clutched the edges and battled with himself, devastation swamping him. He wanted to scream and cry and hit something. He wanted to curse God for taking his father. He wanted to blame someone. And then beat the s**t out of whoever was responsible for him having to spend the rest of his life without his father.

A knock on the door startled him. He looked down at his fingers. White knuckles stood out against his red skin. He released them, one by one, flexing them until the blood filled all his veins and capillaries. The knock sounded again, louder, and Henry took a step away from the counter.

He turned and walked on instinct to the door. He yanked it open, ready to yell at whoever was interrupting him. As much as he didn’t want to be alone, being alone showed him he needed time to process everything.

Cynthia’s chocolate brown eyes looked up at him. They immediately went from smiling to concerned as she took a step toward him. Her hand reached for him, but he stepped back.

Henry spun away from her, not strong enough to let her touch him. He didn’t want anyone to touch him. He needed to get rid of the darkness that took hold of him.

“I’ll be right back,” he blurted, leaving her standing outside as he walked away from the door and to his room.

He closed the bedroom door behind him, shutting her out. He heard the outside door close, but only barely above the blood and pain roaring in his ears. He wanted to throw something. To break something. To watch something shatter. To do damage to something other than himself. What he would give for a punching bag.

He balled his fists and released them. The urge to scream rose up.

He had no idea how to deal with his grief. It had been one thing after another since Tuesday. Between the hospital and making funeral arrangements and writing the eulogy and getting his dad home. Then the wake and the funeral and the reception. It was the first time he’d had to think. And he didn’t like it.

A knock on his bedroom door shocked him. He didn’t say anything, but he knew she could hear him.

“When you’re ready, put on your jacket and boots and meet me outside. Gloves, too.”

“Okay,” he choked out, his voice cracking. Her soft footsteps moved away from him and the front door closed a few seconds later. Henry sucked in deep breaths, struggling to fill his lungs. He had no idea what she was thinking, but he invited her over for dinner. He needed to apologize if nothing else.

After a few more minutes of wallowing, he stuffed his feet into his boots and shrugged into his coat. He pulled gloves out of the pockets as he walked outside. He didn’t see Cynthia right away, but he heard something from the side of the house. She was on her knees, packing snow into small snowballs.

“Should I be worried?” he asked, striving for levity in light of what she’d seen inside.

Her eyes betrayed her grin. She was worried about him. She shook her head and stood, brushing the snow from her jeans. She scooped up half the snowballs and carried them to the picnic table.

“This looked like a pretty sturdy wall,” she said, nodding to the side of the house.

“Uh, I think so. Why?”

She shrugged. “I thought you could use it.”

“For what?”

She looked at him and grinned. She grabbed one snowball and tossed it up gently before catching it. Then she turned and threw it at the side of the house. The snow exploded over the dark stone, leaving a beautiful white imprint.

Oh, hell, yeah.

“Seriously? You didn’t lure me out here for a snowball fight?”

She shook her head, that sad look in her eyes again. “You looked like you needed this.”

Henry pulled in a breath, unsure if he was happy she remembered his need to throw things when he was mad, or sad that they were basically strangers who knew each other well.

She grabbed another snowball and chucked it at the wall, the packed snow bursting a foot from the first one, and Henry couldn’t resist any longer. He walked over to the pile she’d amassed and tested one. He packed it again, out of instinct, then threw it as hard as he could at the wall.

The blast eased something inside him, ever so slightly. He stood for a moment, enjoying the sight of the snow scattered across the side of his house.

Then threw another one.

And another.

And another.

Cynthia packed snowballs and Henry launched them at the wall. He had no idea how long they were out there. Long enough that the tips of his fingers started to get cold, his gloves soaked through, and he regretted wearing only jeans outside. Cynthia’s nose was red, as were her cheeks, but she didn’t complain. She just kept packing snowballs, not saying a word as Henry threw one after another at the side of his house.

He finally stopped and looked at her. Really looked at her. She packed another snowball, oblivious to him staring. She looked beautiful with her red face, jeans hugging her lower half. Her white jacket nearly blended in with the snow around them. She finally looked up at him and grinned.

“Feel better?”

He nodded. “Thanks.”

“Any time.”

“I should probably feed you. s**t,” Henry blurted.

“What?”

He started for the door. “I forgot to turn off the oven.”

“Don’t worry. I turned it off before I came out here.”

He stopped and turned back. “You did?”

She shrugged. “Yeah, of course. I’m the one who told you to come out here. I hope that was okay. Did I ruin something? I saw the pan next to the oven and stuck it in your fridge. I figured we could eat later.”

Henry sighed. “I’m sorry. I probably shouldn’t have invited you over. Obviously I’m not going to be very good company.”

Cynthia grinned. “Then I hope you have some good movies to watch.”

Henry laughed and draped his arm over her shoulder. “I think we can find a good movie or two. Let’s go get dinner started so I can at least accomplish one thing today.”

They walked inside and worked together to get dinner in the oven. Henry opened a bottle of Gewürztraminer when she said it was her favorite. The time he spent checking and double checking the pH and Brix of the pinkish grapes were worth it when she inhaled a breath of the golden wine and smiled. She sipped and closed her eyes, a throaty sigh filling the room, and he swore he’d never look at one of the grapes again without getting hard.

“Is it good?” he asked, his voice cracking and his c**k rising when her tongue darted out to capture a runaway drop of liquid from the edge of her lips.

“Very good. I was never old enough to try Amavita Estates wine when I lived here before.”

“Surely you’ve had some by now?”

Cynthia nodded. “Of course. But not from one of the masters behind the wine.”

Henry shook his head. “I’m no master. My dad? He’s the master.” He paused. “Was. He was the master.”

Cynthia moved closer and pulled him in for a hug. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

He pressed his nose into her hair and closed his eyes. Again, he felt something slip into place. Something that told him she was right where she was meant to be. That his life had been off without her in it.

She didn’t let go. She kept her arms around him, holding him tight, as he borrowed strength from her. Her hands drifted up and down his back, caressing him. Soothing him.

Turning him on.

He tucked his chin against her cheek. She sighed.

He breathed her in. Her heart pounded against his.

He needed her. He needed more from her. He couldn’t just hold her in his arms. He needed more.

He pulled back just enough to look into her eyes. Just enough to make sure she was willing. He saw green in the brown of her eyes. Excitement.

Henry couldn’t wait another minute. He knew it was selfish, but at that moment he didn’t care. He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers and took everything he wanted from her.