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Thirty-nine
Henley
We started over.
It was like the last three weeks never happens. Like the last eight years never passed between us. Like we’ve never been apart.
Almost.
Conner is Conner—a strange blend of who I remember and who he turned into. Gentle and irreverent. Thoughtful and careless. Surly and sweet. We see each other every day. We talk about books over late-night coffee and pancakes at Benny’s. We meet at his parents every Sunday for dinner. We hang out at Gilroy’s after work.
He hasn’t so much as held my hand since that Thursday night outside his parents’ house.
He hasn’t even tried.
That’s the difference. When we were kids, he’d hold my hand. Put his arm around me when we sat together in his father’s chair, so I could rest my head on his shoulder. Touch my ankle and tease me about my freckles.
Now, it’s like I have this invisible force field around me. Like we’re orbiting each other. Never closer than arms’ length. And we’re never alone. Even when it’s just the two of us, he always makes sure we’re in a public place.
He’s my friend. Like his cousin and his brother. It’s exactly what I asked for. What I said I wanted.
And I hate it.
“Hey,” Tess says, her mouth full of food. “Are you in there?”
“Right here and listening.” I nod and smile. We’re sitting in Conner’s booth at the back of the bar while I watch Tess eat enough food to give an elephant a food baby. “You just want to come over tonight, then? Help my pass out candy?” It’s Halloween and in a few hours this place is going to be packed with drunk, scantily-clad college girls and drunk bros, who’s favorite pick-up line will be, what are you dressed as? Tess just got finished telling me she doesn’t want to be here tonight and to be honest, neither do I. Conner is working and the last thing on this planet that I want to do is spend the next several hours watching him field advances of every slutty nun /nurse/witch/princess/angel/serving wench in Boston is not my idea of a good time.
Before she can answer, the devil himself slides into the booth next to her.
Literally.
Conner is wearing a pair of glittery red devil horns. He’d look ridiculous if he wasn’t so fucking hot.
“Hey, Tessie.” He plants a noisy kiss on her cheek and she shoves him away, laughing. “Hi, Henley.” He winks at me and I feel my guts knot up before they drop to my feet. That’s another thing. He doesn’t call me Daisy anymore. He doesn’t even call me Hen or Hennie or some other silly nickname. Henley. Just Henley. Every time he says it, I want to scream.
“Hi.” I force myself to smile at him. “Nice horns.”
He rolls his eyes upward, pointing them at the horns perched on his head with a grin but before he can say anything, Tess scoffs. “Halloween—the one night a year, he shows the world his true face,” she says, patting his cheek. “The poor, helpless women of Boston never stand a chance.”
He laughs at her joke while shooting me a quick look. Something flickers in his eyes, so fast I’m not even sure he felt it.
Guilt.
Shame.
What Tess said bothered him but it’s like he doesn’t even realize it. Like he’s been pretending to be this version of himself for so long that he fully believes the lie. Doesn’t even remember what the truth is anymore.
“You’re so cute when you get jealous,” he teases her, giving her ponytail a playful tug. She snorts and
slaps his hand away. He looks at me. “Got a costume?”
“Oh, I don’t—” My phone buzzes on the table between us and we all look at it. A kissy-face selfie of Jeremy and I flashes on the screen. Looking up, I find Conner looking at me, still smiling. I feel heat rush up my neck, scorching my cheeks. “Excuse me.” I snatch my phone off the table and climb out of the booth to take the call in private.
“Hello?”
“Hello?” Jeremy’s voice comes through, loud and clear. “You’ve been ghosting me for weeks and all you have to say is hello?”
His accusation instantly ties my stomach into knots. “Yes, hello, Jeremy. It’s the standard greeting when someone calls you on the telephone.” I skirt the pool table to stand next to the Jukebox. “And I’m not ghosting you. I’ve answered every single one of your texts.” Technically it’s the truth but I know what he means. I’ve been distant. I’ve resisted giving him details about how things are going with Conner. I’ve changed the subject when he brings up Thanksgiving in London. Announcing our engagement over the Christmas holiday.