Page 92 of True Sight
As I sip on my champagne, my eyes glance at Margaret who’s already looking back at me. We share a silent knowing of how much my words mean to me. I want to tell them. I want them to know about who I am. But more importantly, I want them to know about Henry. But no matter how much I try, I can’t. I can’t bring myself to bare my true self to them. I’m not ready to. Shooting back the rest of my drink, I set the flute down on the table and chew on my bottom lip, considering.For a brief second I open my mouth to say it but what comes out isn’t what I know I need to say.
“I’m going to grab more champagne, does anyone want some?”
Maybe by the time Christmas rolls around I won’t be such a coward and I’ll be able to tell them, and show them, who I really am.
35
CONRAD
Two weeks have come and gone since Thanksgiving and thankfully, Henry wasn’t upset by how much Margaret played up our fake relationship in front of my friends. He actually had tears in his eyes from laughing so hard when I told him about the kiss and wanted us to reenact it for him for the full effect. I told him, and Margaret in my car on the way home from dinner, that I wouldneverbe kissing her again. It was gross enough the first time seeing as how she’s more like my sister than my friend.
He and I fell into a good rhythm once he returned from London. Every few days we would alter whose place we would stay at. On the days we stay at his place, he would sneak out early in the mornings to teach his class, shower at the studio, and climb back into bed with me for a few more hours. When we were at my place, he, Annie, and I would go for a long walk after dinner and spend the evening on the couch cuddled up talking until we fell asleep and eventually moved to the bed.
The weather has cooled off significantly now that it istwo weeks before Christmas and with the studio opening in a little over three weeks, everything from here on out is fine tuning and finishing details. The computers, monitors, and other various pieces of tech were delivered yesterday so I’m here to make sure it’s all set up and that everything I’ve built for him works at the studio like it does at home.
“Do you need any help?” His voice is low as he rests his chin on my shoulder, wrapping his arms around my torso and holding me close. I’m standing at the soon-to-be front desk installing all the programs he’ll need to use once the studio opens.
“Henry, come on.” I try to shake him off and nervously glance around the studio, eyeing the construction workers who are flitting around like bees, hurriedly trying to get everything done.
“What?” he whines and pulls away to look at me. His eyes follow my line of sight and he scoffs. “Oh, please, they don’t care. They’re not even paying attention to us.” He takes another step closer and drops a hand down to my hip but I instinctually bat it away.
“Henry, seriously. Not here. Not now. Not in front of other people.” My words are firmer than I meant for them to be. I know I hurt him when he takes a few steps back and crosses his arms in front of his chest, looking at me like I have just spat at him. I close my eyes and take a steading breath.
“I’m sorry,” I offer, extending a hand for him to take. He glances at my outstretched fingers and then at me before reluctantly taking my hand. “I didn’t mean it like it came out.”
He chews on his bottom lip and I can see the gears turning in his head—like he’s considering if I meant what I said or not. I know he’s right to be upset with me. He’s doinghis best to give me time to be more comfortable with this and I can only imagine what that’s like for him. I want to try and do what I can to make him comfortable just like he’s doing for me. After a moment, he takes a similar breath to mine and shakes his shoulders, resetting like he likes to do. Flashing a small smile, he takes my hand and places his other hand in its rightful place on my waist.
“I know you didn’t and I’m sorry for pushing you. I’ll be better about public displays. It would be easier to control myself if you weren’t so cute,” he compliments with a wink.
“And I’ll be better about how I ask for things. It would be easier if I weren’t such a perpetual grump.” I shrug.
“I don’t know, you weren’t a grump last night when you had your?—”
“London,” the burley voice of Henry’s contractor butts in, cutting him off before he recounts our evening activities. He tries to pull his hand from mine to respect what I want but I don’t let go. I want him to see that I’m trying to give him what he wants just like he does for me. He gives me a shy smile and takes a step closer to me before looking back at his contractor.
“Hardie.” He attempts to mimic the deepness of the man’s voice but it comes off sounding more like a prepubescent boy. I snort and quickly cover my face with the back of my hand to stifle my laughs.
“How can I help you, sir?” he asks in his normal voice.
“Sorry to interrupt, but I’m here with a status update,” the burly man says. Beads of sweat are sliding down the side of his face and there is a thin layer of dirt and dust on his arms.
“Lovely, carry on then.”
“Well, the main studio, locker rooms, and front reception area are all done. The upstairs studio space is abouteighty percent there and is on track to be completed just before the end of the year. We’re just waiting on the wallpaper you picked out and a few fixtures to come in.”
“I ordered all of that weeks ago, what’s taking so long?” Henry’s eyebrows furrow in the center of his face and I almost reach out to smooth them out like he does to me.
“Backordered. All of it. I checked the delivery date and theyshouldbe here by Christmas but you never know. With the shipping delays caused by the holiday season, it could be a few weeks.”
Henry throws his head back and groans. “Okay, that’s alright. If they don’t come in time we’ll just have all the classes down here until that space is ready. Thank you for the update.” Henry reaches out and politely touches the man’s arm who nods in thanks before walking away.
“Ugh, that’s so frustrating,” he mumbles under his breath as he begins to pace in a small circle. He rarely gets worked up but I realized when he is, his go-to tell is his pacing. I don’t even think he notices himself doing it, he’ll just start walking in circles and will eventually stop moving once he’s self-soothed.
“It’s just a little backordered fixtures, no stress. It’ll all be fine.” I try to calm him with my words but he continues to attempt to wear a rut into the brand new floors.
“I just want this opening to be perfect. Everything else is set and we were planning on announcing new classes at the opening that can only be held upstairs to drum up excitement but if the space isn’t ready we won’t be able to do that and?—”
“Sweets.” I hold him by the arms to try and pull him out of his spiral. His eyes lock on mine and I can see the anxiety raging behind them. “It’s going to be amazing. You know how I know that?”
