Page 30 of The Heartbreak Hotel

Twenty-Three

“He’ll see you right away.” Rita stands behind the reception desk and hurries toward us, beelining for the same examination room where I presented Henry with my pitch back in August. We’re a sight, I’m sure: Shani, hysterical, cradling her shih tzu (named, I now know, Alfalfa); Quinn, asking questions a mile a minute from the perch of my arms; and Nan, still in her robe, trying to keep everyone calm.

As we pass through the lobby, every single person looks up.

The exam room is small: two chairs facing the table.

Shani takes one immediately, setting Alfalfa in her lap and watching his face, which seems to swell in size even as she’s looking at him.

Nan sits next to her, putting one hand on her shoulder and rubbing it in slow circles.

Which leaves Quinn and me to stand. I wonder, briefly, if we should even be in here—but then the door opens, and Henry walks through it, and every thought drops directly out of my head.

“I hear someone’s been eating questionable snacks,” Henry says, motioning for Shani to bring Alfalfa closer.

His voice is light, reassuring, warm. Nothing like the shredded whispers against my mouth in the hallway last night: You scare me.

You must know how long I’ve wanted this.

My hairline prickles with sweat as Shani sets her dog on the exam table.

“I’m Henry Rhodes,” Henry says, then nods at the vet tech who followed him into the room—young, closer to my age than Henry’s, with a golden retriever smile and thickly muscled arms. “And this is Jorge.” Henry’s in his white coat, a button-down shirt, his hair carefully combed.

The circles under his eyes are faint; you wouldn’t know, from looking at him, that he was up all night.

I wonder how often this has happened. How much time Henry’s spent hiding this part of himself.

“He’s going to be helping me with Alfalfa. ”

“It happened so fast,” Shani says, her voice high and wavering. “By the time I realized Alfie was going for a spider, he was already spitting it out and shaking his head, and now this.”

“That spider didn’t want to be eaten, huh?

” Henry talks directly to the dog, kind and calm, hands moving from his swollen mouth to his ears to his spine.

Like nothing’s wrong, like Alfie’s face isn’t approaching the shape of a basketball.

He ducks to look Alfie straight in the eyes, and when his face lights with a smile I feel it in the back of my throat.

“We’re going to get this sorted out.” Henry looks up at Shani, then me.

His eyes soften, just a little, as they hold mine. “I’m glad you called.”

“Me, too,” Shani says tearily.

“Jorge and I are going to take Alfie into the back, if that’s okay with you.

” When Shani nods, Henry scoops the little dog into his arms. I was lonely , he’d said.

It was just me and our animals . This isn’t the place for the feelings rising in me like carbonation, for the overwhelming urge to reach for him across the exam table.

“We’ll get him a Benadryl injection and a steroid to speed it up, plus something for the pain.

” He lifts Alfie to meet his eyes. “Okay, buddy?” Henry smiles at Shani. “We’ll be back soon.”

He and Jorge leave the room as quickly as they came, leaving my heart strangling up my windpipe. Shani drops into her chair and sobs.

“Oh, my dear,” Nan says. “He’s going to be just fine.”

“I just can’t deal with this on top of everything,” she says, hiding her face with both hands. “My ex-girlfriend fought me so hard on keeping Alfie, and it was so stressful, and now I nearly kill him?”

“You didn’t nearly kill him,” I say, putting Quinn down and taking his hand. I walk over to Shani and Nan, leaning against the exam table so I can face them. “It was an accident completely beyond your control. And he’s going to be just fine, okay?”

Shani nods wordlessly, her ribs shuddering with silent sobs. Quinn tugs at my sweatshirt. “Lou-Lou, I need to go to the bathroom.”

“Okay.” I squeeze his hand, looking at Nan. “We’ll be right back.”

She nods, one hand still on Shani’s shoulder.

Quinn and I navigate our way through the lobby to the bathroom, where I boost him up onto the toilet and lift him to wash his hands.

The walls are covered in client photos: dogs and cats and an enormous rabbit and even a lizard.

I imagine Henry listening to a lizard’s heartbeat—his huge hands, its tiny body—and feel it like a stomachache.

“Is Alfie gonna die?” Quinn asks, carefully sudsing up his hands as I hold him up to the pedestal sink.

“No,” I say, meeting my own eyes in the mirror. I lower Quinn to the ground and reach for a paper towel. “He’s going to be just fine.”

Quinn watches me dry his hands. When I toss the towel into the trash, I take them in my own, crouched in front of him. “Are you okay?”

Quinn nods. He has Goldie’s eyes—the palest, softest blue. It’s like staring at my sister. “Just scared,” he says, and I think of Henry in the park. Of Henry last night, how afraid he looked. I pull Quinn into a hug and he wraps his arms around my ribs.

“I know,” I say, kissing the top of his head. “That was scary, but everything’s going to be okay.”

“?’Cause Henry’s gonna save him,” Quinn says, muffled against my shirt.

I draw a deep breath, let it out. “That’s right.”

It takes thirty minutes for them to bring Alfie back to us.

Shani lets out a sob of relief when Jorge carries him into the room, de-puffed and much more normal looking.

There’s a felt daisy tied to his collar, and I think of that very first day I met Henry, back in August: the giant Bernese mountain dog who greeted me here, the pink lily on its collar.

“He’s all right,” Jorge says, smiling, as he hands him off to Shani. They brought us another chair from the waiting room, and Quinn’s hunched up in my lap playing games on my phone. “Feeling much better now.”

“Pretty scary allergic reaction,” Henry says, following Jorge inside and closing the door behind them.

“But that’s all it was.” He pulls over a rolling stool and adjusts his slacks to sit down.

I imagine crawling onto his lap and have to close my eyes to make the picture go away.

“His swelling’s gone down really nicely, airway’s clear.

I’m not concerned about another flare-up, but if he starts to swell again, or you notice any reddening of his skin or difficulty breathing, definitely call us.

” Henry glances at me, then back at Shani. “You’re staying at the Comeback Inn?”

Shani nods, running a hand over Alfie’s head. He looks pretty zonked, eyes half-closed, tongue poking between his lips. The daisy makes for starkly cheerful contrast.

“Okay, I’m going to send you home with some Gabapentin in case you notice any signs of residual pain, like drooling or restlessness.

And if you’re seeing that swelling or redness again, you can always start by giving him a Benadryl at home.

Half a pill in some peanut butter usually goes down fine for these guys.

” Henry folds his hands between his legs, fingers lacing together. “Any questions for me?”

Shani shakes her head, pressing a kiss to Alfie’s head. She looks up at Henry through red-rimmed eyes. “No. Thank you so much.”

“Of course.” He smiles and stands. “Jorge will walk you up to the front and they’ll give you those medications at checkout.” All of us stand, Jorge opening the door and guiding Shani through.

“Louisa,” Henry says from behind us. I turn, Quinn on my hip. “Can I talk to you for a moment?”

I glance down at Quinn, who’s completely absorbed in my phone, and back at Henry. “Um.” Yes , my body says. Yes , from the tug in my belly, the heat in my throat. “Nan?”

She stops in the doorway, looking back at us. “Would you mind taking Quinn for just one minute? I’ll be right out.”

“Of course.” She smiles, and when I put him down I slide my hand over the phone screen so he’ll look up at me.

“Is it okay if you go to the lobby with Nan while I talk to Henry really quick?”

Quinn looks up at Nan, who reaches for his hand. He takes it before looking back at me, his other hand still clenched around my phone. “Okay,” he says, and I smooth my fingers over his hair. Quinn looks up at Henry. “Are you gonna come over again?”

Henry looks at me, then back at Quinn. “Would you like me to?”

“Yeah,” Quinn says. “Me and Lou-Lou are doing tattoos this weekend if you want one.”

I bite my lip, and Henry tracks the movement before saying, “Tattoos?”

“Temporary,” I say. I picked out three packs weeks before Quinn and Goldie arrived: dinosaurs, the solar system, animals. “It’s kind of our tradition, the day he leaves.”

“My mom hates them,” Quinn says, so matter-of-factly that Henry laughs. Even here, in this sterile room, the sound of it does something to me—an ache in my stomach I can’t breathe out.

“Well, in that case.” He smiles at Quinn before looking at me. “If your aunt is okay with it.”

“I’m okay with it,” I say, holding Henry’s gaze.

“Come on, Quinn,” Nan says. She leads him through the doorway, glancing back at me with a conspiratorial look. “Let’s let Lou talk to Henry.”

The door falls shut behind them, and I tip backward to lean against it. For a moment, neither of us moves. Henry’s standing in front of an environmental allergens poster, hands loose at his sides. The air in here feels absolutely still, like it’s waiting for us.

“Hi,” I say.

His voice is soft. “Hi.”

I brush at my neck. “The flowers are a nice touch. On the collars.”

Henry’s eyes flick to the door behind me, like he’s trying to remember anything that happened before it was just the two of us in this room. “Oh,” he says. “Yeah—they, um. They make them for me at the senior center. People like them.”

A self-conscious flush rises to his cheeks. I want to touch him there. Instead I ask, “How are you feeling?”

Henry swallows. I watch his throat move and imagine it under my mouth. “Better.” He takes a step toward me, then draws a breath. “Embarrassed.”

“No,” I say. The truth is I knew I wanted Henry—it’s become an indisputable fact in my body, the way everything inside of me turns toward him like the point on a compass.

But last night—his loosening muscles under my palm, his breath steadying in rhythm with the movement of my fingers—it deepened everything.

It opened him up to me in a way I can’t get out from under my skin. “Please don’t be.”

He takes another step toward me. “Thank you. And I’m sorry.”

“If you apologize to me one more time, I swear .”

His lips twitch. I want to touch his mouth. “You swear what?”

“I’ll tell everyone who works for you that you identify as a delectable chocolate brownie of a man.”

Henry laughs, a soft sound. He’s still embarrassed; I can see it in the set of his shoulders, the creases at the corners of his eyes. “Louisa, last night—”

He steps closer. Stops a foot away, near enough that either one of us could reach out.

“I put a lot on you.” He swallows again, his eyes flickering from me to the wall next to me—like he can’t quite hold himself steady.

“I told you this really heavy thing, and you were just trying to comfort me, and I worry that I made you feel obligated to—” He breaks off, eyes tracking over mine. “To do more.”

Henry looms over me, all dark brows and thick lashes and eyes creased in concern. He’s so, so beautiful. I want to reach forward and touch every single part of him.

“Obligated,” I repeat.

He nods, both hands sliding into the pockets of his white coat.

“Sort of like how you felt obligated to stay when the power came back on, that night.” I lean forward off the wall, inching into his space.

I hear his breath catch, nearly soundless.

“Or how you felt obligated to come hiking with us.” I tip my chin upward, making our eyes as level as I can get them.

“Obligated to lie and say you like ice cream.”

Henry’s lips press together, fighting a smile. “I take your point,” he says quietly.

“Good.” I brush one hand over the buttons of his coat, curling my fingers into his lapel. His lungs expand, rising to meet them. “Thank you for telling me about Molly.”

One of Henry’s hands pulls out of his pocket to hold my waist.

“You didn’t make me feel anything,” I tell him, angling my chin upward. “Except—”

“Except?” he urges softly.

“Except,” I repeat, and then I pull him into me.

His mouth opens under mine, wet heat and soft lips and the bite of his fingertips at my hip to hold me steady.

Henry’s other hand comes to my throat, his thumb tracking the line of my jaw and tipping it upward to deepen the kiss.

He presses me against the door, one leg sliding between my own.

I take his bottom lip between my teeth and he groans.

My head tips back, thunking against the door, and I wince.

“Ow,” Henry breathes. He lifts a hand to cradle my skull, putting his fingers between me and the door. His eyes track back and forth over mine. “Louisa.”

“Henry.” I have my hands under his coat, wrapped around his ribs over the thin fabric of his dress shirt.

“I know it hasn’t been that long.” His thumb is hooked under my sweatshirt, brushing the sensitive skin above my hip bone. “Since Nate.”

I press my eyes shut. Nate is the last thing I want to think about right now—especially after that conversation with Bea and Kim this morning. When I open them again, Henry hasn’t looked away—he’s still watching me, patient and close. “Are you sure this is okay?”

It’s more than okay , I could tell him. I want every part of you that you’re willing to give me .

“Are you?” I say instead. “You mentioned an ex-wife last night.”

Henry’s eyes move over mine. “Years ago,” he says. “It ended right after Molly. She’s long gone.”

I want to know more—I want to know everything—but I don’t press him. “Things with Nate were over for a long time before they ended.” I reach up and draw a thumb between Henry’s eyebrows, smoothing the line that’s formed there. “Please don’t think about him.”

“I don’t think about him,” Henry says, dipping his chin. He pushes his lips to mine, soft and sweet and lasting. “I can hardly think about anything, anymore, that isn’t you.”