Page 241 of My Rules

“Come off it,” I scoff.

“Have you been eating?” he asks.

“Yes,” I lie.

My appetite has died, along with my heart.

“I’ve taken up running.” Not a lie. I actually have been running.

“Where do you run?”

“Around Central Park each morning.”

“So . . . how’s New York?”

“It’s . . .” I shrug. “Okay.”

“Just come home, man,” Antony says. “You belong at home with us.”

“Now, now.” Henley holds his hand up. “He hasn’t even settled in yet. Give it time.”

My eyes hold his. The thing with Henley is, it’s what he doesn’t say that has meaning. His messages are delivered in between the sentences.

“How’s everything at home?”

“By everything ... you mean Rebecca?” Henley asks.

I sip my beer and shrug. “I guess.”

“She’s ...” His eyes flick to Antony. “How’s Rebecca?”

“She’s not doing great,” Antony replies. “Lost a lot of weight and ...” His voice trails off.

My heart sinks. “Are you checking in on her?”

“She’s fine,” Henley snaps. “The girls are taking care of her.”

I nod as my mind goes into overdrive. “Has she ...”

“Has she said anything?” He finishes my sentence.

I nod.

“She told Juliet that you deserve better.” His eyes hold mine as he gives me a silent message.

“Any sign of John?”

“I’ll kick his ass if he steps foot on our street,” Antony huffs.

“Has she been going out?” I ask.

“No.” Henley sips his beer. “Didn’t even go to work for a couple of weeks.”

“She didn’t?”

“No.” He shrugs. “Apparently she’s started seeing a therapist.”

Oh . . .

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