Page 30 of Dear Henry, Love Edith
Henry stepped to the bathroom sink and splashed cold water over his face.
Except it wasn’t just about the dress. It was about her. Edith’s own words had pushed him to follow her.“Life’s too short to watch from the sidelines. If you find your Goldie Hawn, you go after her.”
Well, he’d found her. And she’d been sleeping in his bed for the better part of three weeks.
Henry dunked his face beneath the cold running water. How had he not known? And what was he going to do now that he did know?
He reached for a towel and wiped his face dry, staring at himself in the mirror. He had to tell her. That’s all there was to it. She was under the illusion she was living one floor above a docile old man. She deserved to know she was only one staircase away from a young hot-blooded male whose thoughts about her were anything but docile.
Henry finished using the bathroom just as the front doorbell rang. By the time he threw on a T-shirt to go along with his pajama bottoms, a fist was pounding on the door. “What in the world?” Henry muttered. Better not be Chelsea telling him she’d thrown his newspaper on the roof again.
Henry opened the door. Before he could speak, a man forced his way into the doorway, aiming a finger at his nose. “Are you sleeping with her?”
Henry took in the man’s bloodshot eyes. The disheveled hair. The stench of cigarette smoke rolling off his wrinkled clothes. “I think you’ve got the wrong house, pal.”
The man peered past Henry’s shoulder. “Are you telling me Edith’s not living with you?”
Edith? This guy was here because of Edith?
Henry stared at the man, weighing his response. “I don’t see how that’s any of your business.”
The man jabbed his finger against Henry’s chest, talking through a clenched jaw. “Edith is my business. And I want to know if you two are together.”
“Sounds like a question you should be asking her.”
“I did. Now I want to hear what you have to say.”
Henry didn’t like the possessive look in the man’s eyes. It kindled his protective nature until it grew into a full blaze. “I’m going to kindly ask you to leave. If I have to repeat myself, I won’t be so kind about it.”
Henry was pretty sure he’d stolen that line from an old Western, but hey, it sounded good, didn’t it?
The man smirked at him. “Believe me, I know exactly the sort of game you’re playing. Just like I know Edith. In fact, I know her a lot better than you ever will.” He narrowed his gaze. “She’ll come back to me.” He backed onto the porch, pointing his finger vaguely at the house, appearing to be talking more to himself than to Henry. “This ain’t what it looks like.”
“Or maybe...” Henry folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the doorframe in what he hoped came across as a nonchalant stance instead of what it really was—a much-needed move to relieve pressure off his bum knee. “It could be exactly what it looks like.”
A challenge sparked in the man’s eyes. “Prove it.”
“Prove what?”
“That you’re not just going after the same thing I’m after.”
“And what would that be?” Henry actually didn’t want to hear the answer to that. He held up his hand. “I think it’s time for you to go.”
“Couldn’t agree more.” The guy shoved his hands into his pockets as he turned and sauntered down the front porch steps. “I hear a cup of hot java calling my name. Should I save you a seat? Or do you mind if I keep it a private affair between Edith and me? Because I couldn’t help but notice you never answered the question about whether you were a couple or not. Sort of makes it sound like she’s still up for grabs.”
Henry glared at the back of the man’s head until it disappeared down the street and around the corner in the direction of the coffee shop.
Henry slammed the door closed. He didn’t know who that man was or what was going on, but he knew trouble when he saw it. Limping as quickly as he could, he changed out of his pajamas and brushed his teeth.
He checked his reflection once more on the way out. “All right, baby blues. I’m counting on you to keep me from getting slapped.”
Although maybe a good slap upside the head was what he needed. Why else would he be doing this unless he was crazy?
The feel of Edith dancing in his arms, pressed against his chest, washed over him. His breath hitched and his pace quickened. He knew why he was doing this.
Because Edith was too special to be up for grabs.
Edith sat at her spot by the back window of the coffee shop. What could she say to Henry that wouldn’t make her sound like a complete idiot?
