Chapter 28

Twenty-Eight

LUCY

I can sense the brightness of the sun as I begin to wake. I’m so warm, engulfed in the soft sheets of this comfortable bed with an arm around me…

I sit straight up and jump away from the man lying beside me. Terror that it might have been John washes away instantly as Henry greets me with a sexy, just woke-up voice. “Good morning.”

I put my face in my hands and allow every memory from yesterday to flood back into my consciousness. John showed up at my apartment, Oliver insisted he come with us, and Henry found me in the kitchen. I told him everything, and he suggested we bring our fake relationship to our inner circle in hopes John would back off. Then Henry suggested I sleep in his room with him so someone could “catch” us to support the lie that we’ve been dating all along.

“I’m sorry, I don’t remember turning over in the night,” I apologize.

How embarrassing .

“Not at all—it was quite comfortable having you so close,” he says as he sits up, still in his black T-shirt and gray sleep pants. He looks so damn alluring—it’s difficult to stop myself from staring. He stands and stretches like he’s putting a show on for me. I’m overcome with the reality that I am wasting a highly coveted space in his bed. This spot is meant for a perfect-looking woman who wakes up just as good-looking as he does. Certainly not a mess.

Henry opens his bedroom door and listens for a moment. He shakes his head at me before closing it again. “I don’t think anyone is awake, which gives us time to shower.”

My jaw nearly dislocates, it drops so quickly. Gives us time to shower . That’s certainly not what he means, and he definitely wouldn’t choose to shower with me. “I can go back to shower in the guest room.” I offer to avoid any further daydreams on my end.

Henry stops in his tracks, “Absolutely not.” His dark eyes stare into my soul.

“It’s no trouble, I’m sure John is still asleep.” I make my way to gather my phone and the bedding I used on the couch last night, and he comes to my side.

“No, I can’t allow that.” He pauses and runs his hand through his hair. “Isn’t all of this in an effort to shake him off? I don’t think showering in the room next to where he is sleeping would do that. In fact, I’m certain it would be taken just the opposite.” I don’t say anything as Henry moves to grab towels off a shelf and brings them over to me. “You’ll shower in here. I’ll wait for you to finish, then I’ll jump in. ”

There he is, stern Henry. I consider arguing with him, insisting he can’t tell me what to do. Even though I secretly like it. He’s right, though. John would see that as an invitation. I concede but realize I don’t have any clean clothes in Henry’s room to change into when I’m finished in the shower.

“I’ll need to run back and grab my things before I can shower,” I tell him.

“No, you don’t. I have extras of all the products I bought for everyone in the closet. You should be able to find what you need in there.” He responds from where he perched himself on the bed, checking his phone.

“I still don’t have anything to wear after my shower.”

“Sure you do. It’s in your hands.”

“The towel?” I ask.

“Precisely, what better image of you in a towel running across the house to grab your things?” His jaw ticks, and he swallows. “I mean for getting ‘caught,’ of course.”

Well, it’s nice to know one of us is thinking clearly because it’s certainly not me. “How convenient for you that I am the one who needs to run around practically naked. What is the difference between me showering in the other room and me showing up in nothing but a towel?”

“The difference is I will be escorting you while you are in nothing but the towel.” He smirks. “I suppose if you are so set on showering in the other bathroom, I can always accompany you then as well. That would certainly send a message.” He laughs to himself .

Is he offering to shower with me in the room next to John? No, he’s calling your bluff. “Fine, I’ll be quick.”

I turn and make my way into a massive shower big enough for five people. The parties he must have here. This not-so-subtle testimonial of his playboy life is a grounding reminder of who Henry is and how much I don’t fit into his lifestyle.

“Looks like your evil genius plan was unsuccessful,” I whisper to Henry as we quickly make our way from my originally assigned guestroom to his bedroom while I struggle to keep my towel in place and carry what I grabbed from the room.

“A bomb could go off, and that man would sleep through it.” Henry doesn’t bother to hide his frustration as he takes the bag from my shoulder.

I gladly hand it over since he does not feel it is necessary for him to only dress in a towel. Yet, he did select an outfit that is almost as distracting as I imagine the towel would have been. Quietly walking behind him, I savor the view of his sweatpants and the bare muscles of his back.

“Enjoying the show?” he calls back to me.

I ignore his question because it’s so obvious I am. “Please hurry, I’m getting cold and would very much like to get dressed.”

“Oh, of course,” he says as we enter his bedroom. “The bedroom is all yours. There’s a hair dryer in the bottom drawer of your nightstand.” I head in with another look back at shirtless Henry. A memory that will now live rent-free in my head for the rest of my days.

As I work on drying my hair, Henry showers and dresses. My hair doesn’t dry as quickly as it usually does because I’m barely paying attention to what I’m doing.

When he finally finishes, he asks, “Can I borrow the hair dryer for a moment?”

After handing it to him, I turn back to the mirror to finish with my makeup but he catches me staring at him in the reflection.

He smirks, returning the hair dryer, “I’m going to head down and start prepping for breakfast. Join me when you’re ready.”

“All right,” I reply.

I spend the remainder of my time getting ready overthinking my current predicament and how much different things could have gone if John hadn’t arrived yesterday. I would still be in Henry’s home, but I would be in my own room, using my own shower and sleeping in a separate bed. Dare I say I don’t hate how things have turned out…so far .

I hurry along with my makeup and give my hair one final fluff before heading downstairs to help Henry with breakfast. I look around for the others, but it is too quiet.

As I approach the handsome man behind the kitchen island, he hands me a tall glass. “I know my skills won’t compare to Beth’s, but I gave it a try. She was kind enough to give me very detailed directions.”

I take a sip of the delicious cold-brew coffee. “It’s perfect, thank you.”

He nods and resumes his work cutting up peppers .

“You look beautiful this morning,” he tells me while I begin to slice the potatoes.

I look around to check if someone is coming, but nothing. “You don’t have an audience at the moment. Really no need to act without one.”

“In the acting world, there is such a thing called rehearsals,” he says as he puts his knife down and moves to wash his hands off in the sink.

“I understand, and you feel that is a line you need to practice?” I say, joining him at the sink, and he hands me a towel to dry my hands.

“I think it is you who needs the practice, Miss Taylor. It’s clear you can’t even take a compliment.”

“A fake compliment,” I correct him.

“Fake relationship or not, you look beautiful today.” I roll my eyes, and he continues, “Just say thank you.”

“Thank you, Mr. Brooks,” I say sarcastically.

“I think we have some work to do. How are you going to act around the others?” he scolds me, and I begin to walk away.

He grabs my waist and turns me to face him while he pushes my back against the nearest wall. My breath hitches as I look up at him but before I can think of anything to say, his lips are on mine.

Soft, brief kisses feather my lips. As if it is the most natural thing in the world, I kiss him back, bracing my hands on his chest to steady myself.

As if my action was the permission he needs, he pulls me in closer by wrapping one hand around my waist as the other finds its place between my shoulder blades. While the shock subsides, I ignore all reasonable thought and allow my hands to begin their exploration. The feel of his sturdy body pressed against me isn’t enough, it is only a tease, I need more. My fingers find his waist and graze up the side of him as his mouth devours mine.

A moan escapes me as my need for Henry hits new heights. His claiming tongue brushes along mine, and I know my fate is sealed. There has never been, nor will there ever be another who can make me feel this alive.

Our touches become frantic, and the need for more becomes insatiable. He must feel it too, as he breaks our kiss only for his lips to work their way up my neck, biting at my earlobe. My legs grow weak, and my body feels like it is unraveling.

Henry pulls away slightly, just enough for us to catch our breath. Yet, it’s too much, my body sways, mourning the loss of his stability. My hands reach for him, but some sense returns, and I quickly pull them back to my side.

I find my footing and he takes another step back, placing his hands behind him on the island for balance. He looks like the lead in a romantic comedy movie, trying to act unfazed, but I can tell he is just as affected as I am. His cheeks are red while his chest is still rising and falling. It does nothing to stifle the lust clouding my mind.

“What…” is the only word I can get out.

“See, look how unprepared you were for that.” He stands his breath regaining a normal pattern as he looks down to fix his shirt. “Couples kiss, you know.”

“I don’t know many couples that kiss like that in front of other people.”

“Well, then, I pity those couples,” he says with a smirk and continues, “I thought it would be helpful to get the first one out of the way, so when it happens again, you won’t look so flustered.” And turns back to the island as he wasn’t exploring my mouth with his tongue mere moments ago.

He may have a point—I suppose I won’t be as shocked if, when he said when, it happens again. Although, I can’t imagine I’ll ever get used to being kissed like that.

As if on cue, Mia and Finn make their way downstairs. Henry informs them he’s making omelets and instructs me to work on the potatoes for a side. “Here, just add the ingredients while they cook. It’s basically mixing everything together.” I nod, still not sure what to say. I keep my head down to allow for the flush of my face to fade before they can notice my overwhelming reaction to Henry.

Shortly, Hannah and Oliver arrive at the table and my potatoes are just about finished. John is the only person missing from the table. Henry looks at me knowingly, and I announce, “I’ll fetch him, but while I’m gone, this would be a good photo to post.” I point to everyone seated at the table. Henry nods and pulls out his phone as I make my way upstairs.

As I approach the door to John’s room, I hear him speaking, but I can’t make it out. Knocking loudly on the door, I hear him say, “I’ve got to go, bye,” before opening the door to me.

“Morning, Lucy.” John smiles and leans against the door frame with no shirt on and only wearing his boxers. “You know, you really shouldn’t have slept on the couch last night. This bed was awfully lonely. ”

Just wait until he finds out that I didn’t sleep on the couch or alone.

“Breakfast is just about ready. Make yourself decent. Then we can discuss plans about getting back to the city.” I turn on my heels without another word.

The others are already seated at the table, their plates stacked high with the impressive spread Henry has laid out for us. John finds a seat at the table and I offer to make him a plate. I have a feeling it’s best to keep as much distance between him and Henry as possible.

I place John’s breakfast in front of him. Capitalizing on our close proximity, he wraps his arm around my waist, but I turn out of it as soon as I can.

I barely have a moment’s notice before Henry walks over to me. He turns to face the table, “I think it’s about time, don’t you, Lucy?”

Panic over what my friends’ reactions will be overcomes me but disintegrates just as quickly when Henry’s arm moves behind my back and slips his hand into my jeans’ back pocket.

Without waiting for my reply— I’m already blowing it —Henry looks at them all and announces, “We are together, it’s serious, and we decided to make it exclusive a few weeks ago.” He leans down to me for a kiss, and I meet his lips like it is something we’ve done a million times. “And now you all know.” He looks directly at John and says, “Especially you.”

The rest of the table just look amongst themselves with smirks on their faces, maybe Henry texted them earlier to give them the heads up. Not a single one of them looked puzzled by this announcement .

John, however, acts shocked by this news, even though I told him again last night that I was sleeping on the couch to be respectful of my new relationship. He stands and begins to pace, looking only at me as if Henry isn’t even in the room.

“What about us, Lucy?” he pleads, and so begins the much-anticipated revival of his interpretation of I Love Lucy…Taylor . “I know you needed to do this London thing, but haven’t you gotten it out of your system yet? You can’t just throw away twenty years of what we have. I love you.”

I can sense Henry’s anger building in him. The muscles in his arm tighten as he moves his hand from my back pocket to around my waist, pulling me closer to him. Embarrassment floods through me, and I just want to go hide in bed… Henry’s bed, preferably.

Henry looks at me and gives me the “Who does this asshole think he is” look.

John continues by listing “big” moments we’ve shared over the years, starting with senior high prom then moving to the holidays and our family vacations, all evidence for his argument that we are meant to be together.

How convenient that he neglects to mention that the majority of those twenty years have been spent with us as acquaintances…old friends at best, considering he cheated on me when we were together.

But I can’t bring myself to say those things. I should have cut him out of my life the moment we broke up, but instead of dealing with him, I just let him continue to invade my friend group once again. Yet, I’m starting to be relieved that it did end that way. Because if he had never cheated on me, I’d have married him and never found my way to London or to Henry, even if it’s not real .

John then proceeds to make his biggest mistake yet. He turns to address Henry, puts on an apologetic look, and says, “I understand, man. Lucy is great, I can see why you’re interested, but there is no comparison for something that just started when we have a connection that is built on a twenty-year foundation.”

My cheeks reddened from embarrassment—I can’t look at Henry. I’m too afraid. How I wish John would stop talking, but of course, he doesn’t. “Lucy and I are meant for each other. No fancy mansion in England is going to change that.”

A bit of reality hits and fear takes hold of me as some of John’s words begin to make me question things. I don’t want to be with John, I know that more than anything, but haven’t I said that before, many times?

Sure, I have a new great life here in London, but what can I expect when Henry wraps his movie? We will go back to being friends, if that and I will return to my apartment.

What if I lose my friends when I lose Henry? No one can be sure of their future, but mine does have the possibility of becoming sad and lonely and deciding to move back to New York. Then what? John would be there, and I would fall directly into the same trap I’ve always found myself in.

Henry must notice my internal crisis, and he squeezes me close, “Are you all right?” he whispers, and I nod while trying to regain my mental footing. Leaning into Henry, I feel a little stronger .

This is John’s doing. He has a way of getting in my head and making me question myself. There is no denying it. He’s been a staple in my life, which is why I’ve never been able to completely distance myself from him. He knows exactly what to say to me that will make me cave. I always fall back into the headspace that I’ll never be able to do better than him.

Not this time—I’ve found myself a fake British boyfriend who is perfectly content to be romantically connected to me in the public eye. And when this arrangement comes to an end, I may meet someone new. Sure, I may not find anyone else who kisses as well as Henry, but I certainly could find someone else, maybe someone to fall in love with.

That’s enough for me. Even if clinging to this fake relationship is what will help me finally break ties with John, so be it. I’ll deal with the fall out when it comes.

Until then, I will savor every moment.