Chapter 27

Twenty-Seve n

HENRY

Unable to find sleep, I toss and turn for hours, thinking about Lucy, about her in my home, with him . Attempting to distract myself, I turn on my bedside light and grab the closest book. Hopefully, reading can occupy my mind enough to settle it. Of course, the book I grabbed is the cheap copy of Pride and Prejudice the studio gave me to make notes on. I flip through the pages and notice Lucy’s notes next to scenes she insisted were “required” for the adaptation.

The memory of the airport comes flooding back into my mind.

“I hope you find your Miss Bennett,” Lucy says to me.

“I believe I already have,” I answer her.

I wonder if she sensed what I felt that day, the spark between us finally morphed into a blaze that I have been unable to contain in the weeks since.

This is no use.

My throat feels dry. Perhaps a drink of water will help me find sleep. Listening closely at my bedroom door, there’s nothing but silence on the other side. I’m light on my feet in the open hallway, trying not to wake anyone. My stomach knots as I pass Lucy’s room, which she is now sharing with John. I hurry past as if the images of them in there together will disappear the further away I am from the door.

As I reach the bottom step, I notice a figure standing next to the window in the kitchen. Quietly moving closer allows me to recognize the long brown hair that curls under itself at the bottom. Lucy’s wearing a white long-sleeved shirt and loose pink pajama bottoms. I look around and feel relieved when I confirm she is alone.

She hasn’t turned around yet. If she doesn’t hear me coming, I don’t want to startle her. I clear my throat and ask, “Couldn’t sleep?”

She doesn’t say anything, continuing to face the window when she raises a mug above her head.

I walk closer to the kitchen, passing through the living room, when I notice that one couch has blankets and a pillow laid out with a book on it. I recognize the pillow and blanket. They are the ones from her room that I placed out for her…and spritzed my cologne on.

I stop next to her makeshift bed and ask, “What’s this?”

She turns around and looks apologetic as she walks toward me. “I’m sorry, I would have asked before doing that, but by the time I got to it, everyone was asleep. I’ll have it cleaned up before anyone else gets up.”

“No need to apologize. I just assumed you would be upstairs in the embrace of your one true love.” I shouldn’t have said that . It’s been decades since I cared enough about anyone to be jealous and I am clearly out of touch on how to handle the emotion.

Lucy meets my eyes quickly, her face void of all emotions, and then walks back to the window. I follow her, watching as she takes a sip from her cup and returns to her spot, gazing at the snow falling outside.

I look around, deciding if I should make a drink for myself, when I notice a packet of hot chocolate powder in the trash. Well, that settles what I’ll be making to drink. She keeps her focus out the window. I turn the stove on and pour milk into a small pan. While I’m fetching the chocolate chips from the cabinet, I ask, “Did you have a fallout?”

She takes a deep breath. “I’m trying to figure out how soon I can return to my apartment and arrange for him to return to New York.”

A rush of hope overcomes me, but I must not get ahead of myself. “It wasn’t a romantic reunion?”

Still facing the window, she explains, “I may have left out the details of our relationship to everyone, but it seems the blanks were filled in with a very romantic story, and when they invited him this weekend, their hearts were in the right place.”

My suspicions were correct. I knew something was up with him. “What truly happened between the two of you?”

She sighs and takes another sip of her drink. “He’s just someone who has been in and out of my life for years, and I always let him in, but now—things are different—I’m different, and when I saw him today, it felt different.”

Her confession is music to my ears. Maybe he’s left already, but no. She wouldn’t be sleeping down here if he had. “What did he do when you told him?”

She finally turns to face me as I continue to monitor my pan on the stove. “Well, I haven’t yet. I didn’t think it was appropriate to get into that in your home. I should have insisted we stay in London.” Lucy sighs. “Either way, it won’t be easy to convince him to leave so soon after he arrived. He is insistent that we spend the holiday together.”

As if I would allow such a display in my own home. “Is he truly so in love with you?” What else could cause a grown man to act that way?

“Shocking thought, I know.” She rolls her eyes.

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I suppose he loves me in his own way, but he also loves the many other women in his life…according to our shared friends.” With a pause, she lets me connect the dots.

“Are you the other woman?” I couldn’t believe her capable of acting in such a way, but it would explain the secrecy.

She gives a low laugh, “I wouldn’t know who was the original woman in his life. He’s not known for being a one-woman man.”

“How do you know?”

“We share most of the same friends and live in a small town. He’s always denied it to me, but since we broke up, I’ve encouraged him to pursue other relationships. I remained single for a number of reasons—he liked me to believe that he did the same. I noticed his phone was particularly active this evening. Yet, he is here, which only proves he only wants what he can’t have.”

I’m relieved to hear her regard herself as something he can’t have, but still curious how she got into such a situation. I would have never expected her to be the type of woman to get involved in something so…messy. “When did this start between you?”

“About twenty years ago. I was a teenager and foolishly in love.”

She was the original woman, the one who was cheated on.

“So what’s different?” Could it be me? No, I don’t want that to be the only reason. I want her to walk away from this guy for more than just me but for herself.

“When I saw him this morning outside my apartment—he didn’t seem real any longer. He felt like a memory, no longer a part of my life.”

I pour the hot chocolate into a mug for each of us and replace her mug with the one growing cold in her hands. Her eyebrows raise as she holds her stare at me. “My homemade hot chocolate.” She smiles and thanks me.

“I can tell him to leave,” I suggest.

“Thank you, but I’d rather handle this myself. He’s known to get…”

“Violent?” I’ll kill him.

“Oh no.” She laughs a little. “Dramatic…no theatrical is a better way to describe it. Over the years, when I’d attempt to completely cut ties, he would put on a grand show of emotion and declare his love.” She rolls her eyes. “I just don’t want to put everyone here through that. It’s the quickest way to ruin a holiday. I think it would be best fo r the two of us to go back to London, where I can book him a flight back to New York and get him home as soon as possible…with as little drama as possible.”

“And until then, you are going to let him believe everything is fine between you both?”

She sighs and drinks the hot chocolate. “This is delicious, thank you.” I nod, pleased by her compliment, and let her continue. “I’d planned to head back to London first thing tomorrow, but now I’m not sure what the driving conditions will be like.”

The snow is falling very quickly outside. I hadn’t bothered to watch the weather for after they arrived. “Until we can get back to the city, I plan to just keep a safe distance while reminding him that you and I are dating. Still in the early stages, but sticking to our story, nonetheless. He did think he had the victory in hand when you suggested he and I share a room, but I told him you were just dealing with a bit of jealousy.” Little does she know how correct she is.

“And you will continue to sleep on the couch?”

“Yes, if that’s all right with you?” She blinks up at me as her jaw tightens. Does she think I’m going to insist she return to her room and share a bed with him? Absolutely not.

“No, it’s not all right that you are spending nights on the couch.” I am elated that she would rather sleep down here than with him, but it’s still not right. “What if we continue to take our ruse a step further?”

“Oh, of course. I promise not to let this affect that. John is still trying to convince me that he and I are ‘ meant to be together ,’ but I have been insistent that we are dating.” How brazen of this guy to come to my home and attempt to steal my girl from me.

“Well, perhaps we should put on a show for him.”

“What type of a show?”

“We could fully commit to our fake relationship. Act as if we are the couple we claim to be in the public, even here.” I suggest and instantly imagine what it would be like to act as a couple here. Having her in my lap on the chair in my office, cooking together, sharing a bed.

“We have spent weeks telling the four other occupants of this house that this is just a fake relationship, and now we are going to suddenly flip to say we are together. Do you think they would question that? Or feel odd to have to witness us acting as a couple in front of them?”

“We could tell him we’ve been dating for weeks since I picked you up from the airport.” It certainly feels like that, for me, at least. “And that we downplayed it with them because we wanted to see how it went before making it known.”

She still doesn’t look convinced. “But if that were the case, I probably would have told them in London when they suggested bringing John here or, at the very least, on the drive here with Hannah and Mia.”

“We could say you didn’t want to say anything about it because we promised we would decide together when to share it with them.” She still looks unsure, “It would only be for a day at most while we wait out the weather.”

“And what would this entail? I’ve already reminded him many times we are dating. He just ignores me.”

“That’s probably my doing, I barely spoke to you since you’ve arrived and put you in a room together. ”

“No, it’s my fault. I’m so sorry for bringing this mess into your home, especially at the holidays.”

“Don’t be. You didn’t fly him to London. We will take care of this with as little friction for you as possible.”

“Thank you. You have every right to be furious with me.” I brush off her apology—it’s not needed. “I promise I would never let anything jeopardize you or your career. I know how important it is that we keep up this fake relationship.”

How I’d love to tell her that I don’t care at all about the social media account or the publicity from it. But this is certainly not the time to share my feelings with her, so I simply say. “I appreciate that.”

“So, how will this look?” she asks. “My fake relationship expertise only goes as far as posting still photos. As the famous romance movie director, I’m sure you can come up with something.”

“Well, we will act as a couple who are at the beginning stages of falling in love with each other. I’ll take the lead on most things. With your vast research in the subject, you should be able to follow along with the correct responses.”

“It’s that easy?” She fidgets and returns her gaze to the snow falling outside under the light in the garden.

First order of business, if we were dating, she wouldn’t be sleeping on the couch. I wonder how she will react to my first suggestion.

“Well, something that would certainly authenticate the relationship is someone discovering you slept in my room.”