Page 18 of The Heartbreak Hotel
After sliding the machine onto the counter, Henry looks at me. My gaze swivels down to my feet as I say, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize how heavy it is.”
“It’s fine.” Henry looks at Nate. “I was under the impression that you don’t live here anymore.”
Nate reddens. He looks like he might deny it, like he’s reaching for the right words even though there’s really only one thing to say.
Henry’s eyes flick back to mine. A small line forms between his dark brows—the one I wanted to swipe away with mythumb, back in his office. The one that lingered there while I tried to tell him about the breakfast menu just yesterday. “Louisa?”
“He doesn’t,” I say softly. “He’s here to get his things.”
“Are you renting our house out?” Nate asks me.Oursnags on my ribs, chafing against my heart. Even before the breakup, this house felt like mine alone.
“It’s Henry’s house,” I tell him. “But yes.”
“To who?”
The brokenhearted, I think. But I’m still massaging the details of this plan, so I say simply, “Vacationers.”
“Lou.” Nate steps closer to me. His voice drops an octave. “You don’t have to do that. I mean, if it’s about money, I can—”
I close my eyes. “Nate, stop.” The air stills around us. No one moves, or speaks. I can feel Henry watching me from across the kitchen. “Please.”
“Hey.” His hand lands on my elbow, warm. “Lou, I care about you. I can help with—”
“She told you to stop,” Mei says. Nate’s hand drops, and I open my eyes. When I glance at Henry, those blue eyes hold mine—but this time, I don’t make myself look away.
“I think you should get your things and go,” I say quietly, barely sparing him a glance. I look, instead, at Henry: the quickly reddening skin on his knee, the stretch of his shirt over his shoulders, that line between his eyebrows—like he’s trying to figure this out.Why are you here?I want to ask.How is it that you’re here, again, witnessing my humiliation?
Nate searches me, looking for the person he knows. The Louisa I used to be, in a different life, needing him.
“I’ll help you,” Mei says. She extends her arm toward the stairs. “Let’s start in the Pine Room, there’s a shitload of your coats in there.”
Nate glances at me, then Mei, then Henry. He clears his throat. “Yeah, okay. Let me get the suitcase from my car.”
“I’ll get it.” Henry steps forward, extending his hand for Nate’s keys. From behind me, I hear Mei’s surprised intake of breath. “So you can get started.”
Nate stares at him. Henry doesn’t blink. I wonder about the times they’ve met before, without me—when Nate first toured the house, when he put down the deposit. What those conversations sounded like. If Henry’s always been this cold toward him, or if it’s only for my benefit.
Nate glances at me, then lets out a small scoff before digging into his shorts pocket and dropping the keys to his hatchback into Henry’s palm. He turns, wordlessly, to follow Mei up the stairs.
When Henry comes back inside, depositing Nate’s huge black suitcase in the front hall, I twist my hands together. I can’t imagine a scene that could have convinced him anylessthat I have things under control here.
“Hey, I’m sorry,” I say. “This wasn’t, um…” Henry meets my eyes and holds them. “Professional.”
“This is your home,” he says. He doesn’t look around this time—not like yesterday. He doesn’t look away from me at all. “And I interrupted. You didn’t need to be professional.”
I manage a small smile. “Thanks for the espresso machine.”
He nods. I get the sense he wants to say something—the way his eyes flit past me down the hall, glancing over the staircase where Nate has disappeared. But he only looks back at me,steady and stoic as ever. “If you have any questions about how to use it,” he says, “you have my phone number.”
Henry takes a step backward onto the front porch. The sun hits his face, his eyelashes, sending shadows over his stubble-flecked cheeks.
I lean one hand against the door. “I do.”
Ten
“Stop worrying.” I say thisto my sister knowing full well it’s not something she’s humanly capable of. “I’ve already got a booking.”
“Fromwho?” She’s video calling me as she walks, Manhattan a gray blur behind her. “They could be a serial killer. They could be a squatter. What kind of person books aheartbreak retreat, Lou?”
