11. Felix

CHAPTER ELEVEN

felix

I shouldn’t have come to Henry’s apartment. I shouldn’t be about to knock on the door, but here I am. Desperate. Crazy-ass Felix.

Because the date—if you can even call it that—with the redhead was boring as hell. All through dinner, I wondered what Henry and Hazel were doing. Whether she tried a new type of baby food tonight, since he’s been slowly introducing them to her.

Or if maybe they just settled for a bottle before she went to sleep. I wonder if Henry got any alone time tonight, because usually I’ll hold her or play with her while he takes a shower after work.

If he remembered to eat something, because that man, I swear, he only thinks about Hazel. He’s always the last thought, which is noble, but someone needs to take care of Henry.

And I know, I know that can’t ever be me. At least not in the partner sense. But who says a friend can’t be your partner in life?

Shit. I shouldn’t be here.

I knock anyway, and a moment later, Henry opens the door with Hazel in his arms. She’s wide awake, despite it being almost ten o’clock, and I was right about Henry not having his afterwork shower, because he’s still in his work clothes.

“You’re earlier than I expected,” his deep voice drawls, and I smile, holding up a to-go bag of food.

“Yeah. Turns out, I didn’t really want to talk about diet plans and jogging all night.”

He gives me a small smile, moving aside for me to walk in before closing and locking the door.

“Did you eat?” I ask, and by the slow, shy smile forming on his mouth, I have my answer. I drop the food on the counter and reach for Hazel. “Let me have my girl. You go shower, and I’ll heat up some food.”

He doesn’t hesitate, just hands Hazel over to me, thanking me before he grabs his sweats and t-shirt and moves into the bedroom.

“Your dad is silly,” I say to Hazel, and she smiles, spit bubbles coming from her little mouth. “He doesn’t think he needs to take care of himself.” She grabs my nose, and I give her forehead a kiss before lowering her to her spot on the floor with her toys. She plays around for a while, then grabs her bottle, bringing it to her mouth and leaning back against the couch as she slurps.

I heat up the food—mine that I didn’t eat and what I ordered for Henry—getting it all situated, just as Henry comes out of the bathroom, fully dressed but with his hair still wet.

“That smells good.”

He tosses his dirty clothes in a pile near the door to take to the laundry later. I hand him a plate, taking mine to the couch. We both dig into the leftover Italian food, not really saying anything as Hazel lazily plays with her toys, having finished her bottle.

“So, not a good date then?” Henry asks me carefully.

I shrug, chewing a big bite and swallowing. “It was fine. A little like dating myself.”

He snorts at that, also finishing a bite. “I don’t think that would be so bad. You’re a catch, Felix.”

I try to ignore the fluttering in my belly and remind myself he means for someone else. “Yeah well, I like a little variety.”

“What do you mean? What’s your type?” He surprises me by asking, and I’m not sure why I’m continuing this conversation.

I take another bite and chew it while I think about my answer. “I don’t really know. I’ve dated a lot of different types of guys. I thought I was into the jock type but then realized I’m not really. I dated a really quiet, shy artist type a few years ago . . .” I smile at the thought of Alex, but then it quickly turns sour. “But I couldn’t keep up with him.”

Henry looks confused, his brows raised. “What does that mean?”

“He was really smart and kind of in his head a lot. I guess he probably felt like I did tonight on my date. Bored all the damn time. Didn’t want to listen about protein shakes.” I give a self-deprecating laugh, but Henry doesn’t smile.

“You’re more than that.” I start to brush him off, but he places his plate on the coffee table and turns his body to face mine. “Felix, look at me.”

Oh, don’t do it.

I try to warn myself, but I’m an idiot and turn to look into his soulful eyes, so full of determination. “You’re a great guy. You’re an amazing catch, and he’d be lucky to sit with you and talk about protein shakes or whatever else you want to talk about.”

Listening to his words, I believe him, my chest nearly puffing up with pride, but I quickly smash it down. Deflate. Because he’s just being nice. “Right. Well anyway, I don’t think I have any specific type. I can’t really nail it down.”

He’s quiet for a moment before he grabs his plate, and we eat in silence. I smile when I see Hazel is lying down, her little hand still grasping onto a toy, but her eyes are slowly closing as she fights sleep.

“You know, if you want to go out on a date anytime, I can watch her.” I don’t know why I say this. Maybe to remind myself Henry isn’t mine. Maybe because the man didn’t even eat or shower tonight because Hazel is his number one priority, and I think he deserves something for himself.

He’s clearly startled by that as he gets up to put his now-empty plate in the sink. I follow him, doing the same.

“Henry.”

He turns to look at me, his eyes full of something I can’t decipher. “I don’t date.”

“But you could,” I say softly. “If you want. I just want you to know I’m here for you. For whatever you need.”

“I need her.” His eyes move to Hazel and then to me, our bodies so close to each other that I’m struggling to keep my breathing at a slow and steady rate. “And my friend.”

My lips quirk in a small, yet semi-painful smile. “Well, your friend is here for you if you need to . . .” My voice actually breaks because the thought of him going out on a date with someone physically hurts. Despite me trying to go out on a date tonight, my mind was here with him and Hazel. “If you want to go out with someone. You deserve to have a life, Henry.”

“She’s my life,” he says firmly. But that was never in question.

“I’m sorry,” I say quietly and then gasp when his big hand strokes gently over my cheek, the touch nearly scorching me. Talk about sparks.

Of course, it would be with my straight best friend.

He gives me the sweetest smile and then drops his hand. “Thank you.” He walks toward the couch, then looks at me over his shoulder. “And Felix?”

“Yeah?” I finally manage.

“I’m glad you came here tonight. And every night.”

“Me too.”

I say it easily because it’s the truth.

This is where I want to be.

And that’s really not good.