Page 38 of When We Were More (Aron Falls #1)

She makes eye contact with me, and a wicked smile forms around her mouth as she runs her hands down her dress, smoothing it out, and then wipes the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand.

I watch as she sashays down the steps and disappears.

Then I force myself to turn and face the top of the stairs again.

When I do, my stomach drops. Henry is standing a few feet away from me, suit jacket gone, his tie loosened, and the top few buttons of his shirt undone. His hair is a mess, his eyes are wide as saucers, and his mouth hangs open.

“Matilda.”

I make a point of looking at his hair and decide the same words he said to me after the pie party make-out incident are fitting.

“You should probably go into the bathroom and fix your hair before you come down. I’ll go first.”

He takes a few steps toward me.

“Stop. Stay there.”

I’m barely holding myself together, and I can’t have him come any closer. My mind is spinning, and I’m not sure what to think. I need a few seconds.

“Tiger, I swear to God this isn’t what it looks like. I wouldn’t?—”

“Just don’t. Okay?” He stills, and I take a few breaths. “I’m fine. Everything’s fine.”

A traitorous tear rolls down my cheek, and I don’t even bother to wipe it away. Pain flashes across his face when he sees it, and I want to dick punch him. He doesn’t get to feel bad. When he extends a hand to me, I don’t take it. I need to walk away soon to get my thoughts together.

“I want to go home, Henry. Let me do that. Alone.” My voice shakes. “Please give me space.”

He doesn’t take his eyes off of me as I back down the stairs. When I’m confident he isn’t going to follow, I turn and take the last half-dozen steps as quickly as I can. After I get to the bottom, I glance up at him, and he’s standing at the railing watching me.

“Can we please talk now? Let me explain.” There’s desperation in his eyes, and I almost give in. “I promise you nothing?—”

“I need time, Henry. Please don’t try to make me do this now.”

He slowly creeps down a few steps while never taking his eyes off of me. His hands are out in front of him, palms facing me. Like I’m some crazy woman he has to approach with caution.

“Tell me what you’re thinking. What you’re feeling.” His voice is soft, coaxing.

I back up a few steps, and he halts his attempted descent.

How the hell am I supposed to tell him any of that when I’m not sure myself?

Do I tell him my heart hurts and I’m afraid I’ve been cheated on?

Which is stupid and impossible because we’re not together, so if something did happen, it wouldn’t be like what Joe did.

Fuck, why is that bastard popping up in my mind right now?

Do I tell him that I’m terrified because, even if nothing happened, these emotions that have surfaced weren’t part of the plan? That I need to think long and hard about whether I should stop all of this. No feelings is one of our ground rules.

My chest tightens, and I’m breathing more rapidly than normal. A faint wheeze now emanates from me. Henry’s eyes bulge, and he grabs a fistful of his messy hair.

“Where’s your inhaler, Matilda?”

“In my car,” I whisper.

“Why the hell isn’t it on your person? Never mind, I’ll go get it.”

He moves down a few more steps.

“Stop. Let me go, and I’ll use it—” I pause and rest a few seconds “—as soon as I’m in the car. Please, Henry.” My voice cracks, and my chest is constricting more. “Talking makes it worse.”

I watch his face, and I can see the emotions as his brain wars with itself. I’m guessing he’s trying to decide between pushing me to let him help me with the hope of talking afterward, versus letting me go so I can get to my inhaler.

“This isn’t a bad one,” I say. “I’ll be fine.”

“Text me as soon as you’ve got the inhaler in your hand and have taken your first puff.” He growls the words.

I nod and walk away.

I beeline for the kitchen and am grateful I don’t know anyone hanging out there. I work hard to keep my pace steady, but not too fast, and I refuse to let another tear fall while I’m here. When I step through the door leading outside, my lungs open up a smidge, and I breathe a bit easier.

After I make it into my car, I grab my inhaler from my console and use it. With shaky hands, I pick up my phone and tap out a text.

Got it. Took first puff. Feeling a bit better already.

Henry: Okay. Text me when you’ve done the second one.

I lean back in my seat, resting my head. When it’s time, I use the second puff. I shoot off another text to Henry. I’m eager to leave.

Took second puff. I’m leaving now.

I feel improved enough to drive, so I put the car in gear and pull away. I force myself to drive at a normal speed, but all I want is to crawl into bed and sleep. Hopefully there I’ll get some relief from my overstimulated thoughts and emotions.

I get that I’m not handling this, but it hurts, and that took me by surprise.

I’m trying not to think about how it felt hearing and seeing that woman, seeing Henry disheveled.

I’m not ready to unpack it all. Part of me wishes I had let him explain because maybe he’d have said something that would take this pain away, that would make it all make sense.

But another part of me is terrified he’d tell me a truth I don’t want to hear.

Then there’s the whole question of why the hell it matters if we’re just friends. Other than not telling me first, even if he did hook up with someone, he technically didn’t do anything wrong. My heart revolts at that thought.

When I’ve been driving for about ten minutes, fatigue overcomes me.

God, I’ve got another twenty-five minutes before I reach home.

I think for a second and then pull over.

First, I read the several worried texts from Henry and type out a response to say I’m fine—the attack is over.

I close the chain with him, then open a different one.

I type out the message, hoping it’s not too late at night to send it.

Do you mind if I stay there tonight? I’m at a party and don’t want to make the longer trip home. It’s okay if not.

After I send the text, I pull back onto the road, cracking the windows to keep me alert. A minute later, my phone dings, and I glance at my dashboard to see what it says. I breathe a sigh of relief when it’s confirmed I only have to drive about ten more minutes.

I can hold myself together for that long. I think.