Chapter 21

Twenty-One

HENRY

This day is moving at an expeditiously slow pace. It was grueling enough to spend the last week stressing about Lucy in the States and her seemingly over-interested ex-boyfriend, but now I am once again worried about her flying over the Atlantic Ocean. Of course, air travel is a relatively safe form of transportation, but I’ll feel better when she lands.

And I can see her.

Checking the clock again, I have roughly a half hour before I need to leave for the airport. She doesn’t know I’m picking her up. She insisted Hannah not trouble herself and that she would take a taxi, but I’m too anxious to tell her the good news.

I just hope she is happy to see me. Perhaps she wants time to herself to process whatever it was that took place with the mysterious man from her past who she has such a long history with. I remain in the dark about what occurred between them last year before she decided to move .

What if he realized the enormous mistake he made and wanted to reconnect? If that was the case, I trust Lucy would be honest with me. Although she could be waiting to tell me to my face. No, I can’t let that negative possibility consume my thoughts.

I need to dress in something that covers most of my prominent features. I’ll take Finn’s car rather than a driver, that would attract attention. The final thing I grab is the small sign I made to hold and stand next to the other drivers waiting for their passengers. Smiling at it, I’m confident it will catch her attention.

Choosing to leave my snow cap and jacket on while I wait at the bottom of the escalators, dressed in all black, I almost blend in with the other drivers, but I’m not dressed in a suit like they are. Her flight landed about twenty minutes ago, and she sent a message to the group chat to let everyone know she is safely back on UK soil. I chose not to respond and let her think I was preoccupied at the moment.

Lucy’s bright scarf and matching hat catch my attention before she turns to face forward. My breath catches at the sight before me. Her long dark brown hair sticks out beneath her hat, curling at the end where it rests on her bent arms carrying her bags. She doesn’t look directly at me, but curiosity has gotten the best of her as she scans the names on the signs held up by each of the drivers standing beside me. Then she stops at mine, and her eyes look up to see the man holding the sign that says, “Miss Elizabeth Bennett.”

Our eyes meet, and my chest tightens to the point of pain until it feels as if something inside me bursts. During our time apart and only in the dark hours of the night would I allow myself to admit just how greatly I have missed her, but even in those moments, I didn’t anticipate this rush of emotions I’d feel at the sight of her. Her smile can be witnessed by everyone in this airport, but it is not for them.

It’s mine.

“Mr. Darcy.” She approaches, “I just wanted to give you my best wishes for finding your Miss Bennett.”

I move to take her bags for her and lean in, “Oh, I’ve found her.”

A faint blush comes over her cheeks, and her lips curl up into a tiny smile. “Thank you, but I can carry them.”

I don’t bother to acknowledge her comment about her bags as I take them from her. “Let’s get out of here. I have Finn’s car to take you back to your apartment. Are you hungry?”

“Yes, but I can throw something together later.”

“No need, it’s taken care of,” I tease her.

“It is? How so?”

I’m not giving up on the surprise this soon. “You’ll see,” I say as we exit the large glass doors of the airport and make our way to the parking lot. Sounds echo through the floors of cars, forcing us to remain silent until we reach the car.

“All right. How was your week?” she asks.

“Nothing of note.” While opening the SUV’s back hatch, I keep my attention from her. I don’t want to give anything away.

“What’s with the grocery bags?” she asks. “Did you get your weekly shopping done before coming to get me?”

I just laugh and walk her to the passenger side to open her door for her.

“Thanks,” she says, her eyes focusing on me.

I walk slowly in front of the car, watching her through the windshield, never taking my eyes off her, even as I slip in behind the wheel and smile at her. Something about the two of us, contained in this low-lit small space, makes me hyper-aware of her body. How close she is, how easy it would be to place my hand in hers, to wrap my fingers around her thigh, to slip my arm around her and pull her into a kiss. No one would hear; the garage is filled with parked cars, and the windows would surely contain the sound.

But what if they started to fog?

Careful not to linger too long, afraid I will act on one of the impulses running through my mind, I pull the car into reverse and head in the direction of her apartment.

As we drive through the city, the interior of the car remains dark, which does little to stifle my awareness of her next to me. She hasn’t stopped fidgeting in her seat, rubbing her hands up and down her thighs.

“Are you cold?” I ask as I turn the dial to increase the heat.

“No, I’m fine,” she answers quickly.

Does she know her unintentional fidgeting is pulling my attention to her legs?

Can she feel this electricity between us ?

I place my hand on the middle console, but no closer. I’ve always found her attractive, even if I denied it when I thought Finn and Oliver were trying to set us up, but after a week without her, I can no longer suppress her lure.

Fortunately, there is an open place to park directly in front of her apartment. I get out with her, but she hasn’t caught on yet. “If you don’t mind carrying the groceries up, I can grab your luggage.”

Her face scrunches up as I lift the strap over my head. “The groceries are coming up? Are they for me?”

“They are for us.” As that last word leaves my mouth, it comes out with more breath than I intended.

Us. I’m positive I’ve used it before in reference to me and her, but this time, it means something different…something more…to me, at least.

She doesn’t say anything but moves quickly, opens her lobby door, and then holds it for me. Not one to miss an opportunity, I’m sure to brush her with my body as I move past her, inhaling her familiar perfume. A light and sweet smell of lilies and mandarin and, I believe, a hint of cucumber.

I follow her up the stairs, failing miserably at any attempts to clear my head. As she unlocks the door, I’m swept into a daydream of this moment becoming a regular occurrence for us. Trips to the grocery store together, planning a romantic evening for the two of us. After dinner, we could share a bottle of wine, turn the lights low…

The thunk of the grocery bags hitting her counter pulls me back to the present. Waiting for me to leave her small luggage and bag by the door, she stands still with her arms crossed over her chest, staring at me. The only action she is missing is tapping her foot. “What’s going on, Henry?”

“I thought you may be tired after your travel day, and I appreciate all your help with the movie, so I wanted to do something nice and thought I could cook you dinner…this evening.”

Maybe she doesn’t want this after spending ten hours flying.

She may just want to go to bed or I should have offered at the least to get take-away.

Cooking in her kitchen and surely making a mess, but I plan to clean up too, might not be what she wants this evening.

I suppose these ingredients will stay for another day. I can offer to come back tomorrow.

Or she can really make this for herself. I don’t need to be included. But I want to be.

“Oh, that’s very kind of you…” She doesn’t appear to be put off, but she is not elated either. Her brows furrow. “Why are you being so nice?”

So she does like this offer, she finds it nice. But she knows me better than this. I wish she knew me as the man who would plan a surprise dinner for her, but that’s not the case, not yet, at least. “Like I said, I wanted to thank you.”

“Did you hear from the studio?” Of course, she figured it out. She’s far too intelligent to keep anything from her, but also, I’m bursting to tell her. It was difficult enough not to call her the moment Mark called and again when I first saw her at the airport .

I move from the kitchen and stand before her. Keeping my emotions reserved and reluctantly keeping my hands to myself, I share. “They called last week.”

She grabs onto my arms and my body responds to her touch as if it was the air I need to breathe. “Do you have something you need to tell me?” How I’d like to grab her wrists, to place them behind my neck, bringing her closer to me. The endless emotions I’ve had day and night since she left flash through my mind, and I want to tell her each and every one of them, but this is not the time for that. No, she asked about the movie…

“You’ve put so much work into turning my reputation around…”

“Tell me! You got it?”

“I did.” I don’t know who moves first, but within an instant, her arms are wrapped around my neck and my arms around her waist.

This is bliss.

“Henry, Congratulations! This is wonderful news.” She pulls out of our embrace and I attempt to hide my disappointment at the loss of her touch but continue to bask in her closeness.

“Yes, I begin on Monday. I found out a few days ago, but wanted to tell you and thank you in person. I asked Viewmont not to release a statement until next week. I wanted to be the one to tell you.” She pauses, seeming surprised by what I said, and then takes a small step back.

“That explains the dinner. I was beginning to worry—the Henry I know wouldn’t do all this,” she says with a wave, and I wonder if I may have shown my hand too soon. “Do you mind if I grab a quick shower and change while you prepare dinner? I’d like to get out of my travel clothes.”

I gulp like a cartoon character at her mention of showering just a few steps away from me. I could join her, although I doubt her shower is that big. It can’t compare to mine. I think she’d like mine. I’m sure she would look spectacular in it.

“Unless you need help with dinner?” Her question pulls me out of my inappropriate daydreaming.

“Not at all. I’ve got this under control.” I turn to the groceries in an attempt to hide my embarrassing reaction. “Take your time.”

The door to her bedroom closes behind her as I pull the pasta and other ingredients out of the brown bag. There’s another door next to her bedroom that remains closed as I hear the water turn on. It must connect to her bedroom as well. I’m a grown man. Many women have showered in my presence. My lustful feelings are obviously one-sided, and I need to cool down. We are friendly…certainly friends at this point. I don’t need to ruin this by storming into that bathroom and worshiping every inch of her body.

Shaking away those feelings, I turn my focus on producing an exemplary dinner for the mastermind behind securing the most coveted movie in my career. I put music on my phone and get to work. She mentioned many times about her love for Italian food, so I put in a call to Max, who has become a master chef in recent years. He recommended a fettuccine Alfredo dish that he said was a midlevel dish that I could “handle.” Of course, with the water running, I am struggling to remember the order of ingredients for the sauce so I call Max quickly.

Max answers on the second ring. “Henry, how’d the dinner go?”

“That’s why I’m calling. I need you to go over the sauce once more.” Desperation fills my voice. “Quickly.”

“Are you in the middle of cooking? Is she watching you call me? This defeats the purpose of impressing her, you know.” As much as I denied it to Max when I asked for this recipe, he saw right through me. “I know you, Henry. You don’t go to these lengths for women. There’s something more to it.”

“No, she’s in the shower. I’m trying to have it started at the very least by the time she’s done.”

There’s silence from Max’s end, then he says, “You’re going to have to give more details before I continue.”

“Enough, you perverted old man. She just wanted to shower after a day of traveling.” Frustration grows inside me. “Rest assured, nothing untoward is taking place in this apartment. I’m just trying to be a good friend and make her dinner. Now, can you be a good friend and help me.”

“I have no desire to be that type of good friend to you, Henry.” He laughs to himself but then continues with the recipe for the sauce. “I’ll text it to you now too, just in case you forget again. Enjoy your romantic evening!” And then he hangs up before I can deny it.