Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 131728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131728 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
“Do you promise?”
“Yep.” He puts a pile of T-shirts into a suitcase.
I watch him for a moment, unsure whether to leave. He wants to do this alone; I think I need to respect his wishes and give him some space.
“Okay.” I walk over to him. “Can I have a kiss goodbye?”
He pecks me quickly on the cheek.
“You’ll be over later?” I ask.
“Yes.” Without making eye contact, he goes back to folding.
“I’ll cook us dinner.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
He’s coming over afterward. I feel a little better, but I really don’t want to leave him here. “I love you.”
“You too,” he says, distracted.
With one last long look at my dear heartbroken man, I walk out the door. This is a complete nightmare.
I peek into the oven and then at the clock: 7:46 p.m.
Where is he?
He hasn’t returned from the nursing home—hasn’t been home at all—and I’m trying so hard to give him some space, but I’m really worried about him. It’s a fine line between caring and smothering. I’m going to call him; I dial his number and wait as it rings.
“Hello, you’ve reached Henley James. Leave a message.”
My stomach drops. Fuck.
Why did I leave him at the nursing home? What on earth was I thinking?
I should have been there to support him. I should have stayed.
He was going to call security.
I feed Barry and fuss about some more. It’s 8:30 p.m. now, and still no sign. I call him again, and he answers on the first ring. “Hi.”
I close my eyes in relief. “Hi, babe, are you close?”
“Yeah, around the corner.”
“Okay, see you soon.” Thank god. I’ve been having a minor panic attack all day.
Ten minutes later, he drives onto the street and pulls into his garage. I peek through the curtains as I watch him walk over. I open the screen as he solemnly walks up the front veranda. He kisses me quickly as he walks past me into the house.
I roll my eyes as I pretend not to notice. He’s here. That’s all that matters.
He walks into the bathroom and washes his hands and comes back out. “Something smells good,” he says as he looks everywhere but at me.
“Hope you’re hungry?”
“Starving. I haven’t eaten since yesterday.”
My heart sinks. “Sit down, sweetie.” I pull a chair out for him, and he sits at the dining table. I begin to serve our dinner. I don’t know what to say or do. Do I bring it up, or do I pretend it hasn’t happened, like he is? “Did you do everything that you wanted to today?” I ask.
“Uh-huh.”
“We can go through the things over the weekend and sort them.”
“I’ve donated everything to charity.”
“What?”
“I dropped it off at the Goodwill store around the corner on the way home.”
My eyes well with tears as I serve the peas. He gave away all his father’s things.
“The photo albums?”
“Gone. I don’t want them.”
How could he?
He didn’t. Surely, he didn’t. Nobody is that cold.
Just stay calm . . . he’s pushing you on purpose. This is dysfunctional Henley James at his very best.
I put the plate of food onto the table in front of him.
“Thanks.”
I sit down at the table with my plate, and he begins to eat in silence. He really is hungry. He’ll feel better after he eats. I’m sure.
I chatter on through dinner about every single subject on earth. I haven’t brought up his dad . . . I don’t know how to, and I don’t want to trigger him.
I just have to be patient; he’ll talk to me about it when he’s ready.
We finish dinner, and I load the dishwasher. “I made you some chocolate pudding.” I smile hopefully.
“Thanks, babe.” He kisses me softly. “I’m just . . . tired. I’m going to go straight to bed.” He kisses me again, his lips lingering over mine. “I’m exhausted.”
“Okay.” I smile, feeling a little better.
He goes to walk away, and I pull him back by the hand. “You know how much I love you, right?”
He nods. “I’ll eat the pudding tomorrow.”
“Okay.”
He trudges up the stairs, and I hear the shower turn on. And for the first time today, a sense of calm falls over me. I think it’s going to be all right.
I wake with a start. Henley is gone.
He seemed to have slept well, while I tossed and turned all night before falling into an exhausted sleep around 3:00 a.m. I didn’t hear him get up and leave because by then I was out like a log.
I think he’s gone to work, but honestly, who knows?
There is one comforting thing, at least. I know that Henley does autopilot like a pro. And if autopilot is what he needs to do for a while, then that’s totally fine.
Keeping busy is probably the best for him at the moment. If he needs to be a workaholic this week, then so be it. I just wish I wasn’t on fucking afternoon shift this week. I’ll swap my shifts or take the week off.