Page 76 of Dear Henry, Love Edith
“Yes, ma’am.”
He slid into the driver’s seat as she yanked open the door and climbed in on her side. “And just so you know,” she said, slamming the door shut and reaching for her seat belt, “I will not be thanking you for tonight’s dinner. I believe one thank-you is enough for today.”
Henry’s mouth curved up as he shifted the truck into reverse. “We’ll see about that,” he murmured before flashing her an innocent smile.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Filtered sunlight and the tweeting melody of birds beckoned Edith awake the following morning. She took in the familiar sight of her surroundings with a contented sigh, then rolled onto her side.
Her eyes flew open a second later. Thiswasfamiliar. Too familiar. What was she doing here? In Henry’s room. In Henry’s bed.
She flipped back the covers and bolted upright, forcing herself to remember what happened last night. They came back to Henry’s house. Tossed in a pizza. Turned on the TV. Started watching a Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers movie. What was it? Oh yeah.Follow the Fleet.
Edith swung her feet to the floor, taking in her rumpled clothes from the day before.
She remembered thinking that they should talk about how to handle the engagement rumor, but decided to wait until after the pizza to bring it up. Then decided they might as well wait until after the movie. Then remembered getting comfy...
And that was the last thing she remembered.
Edith used the bathroom and brushed her teeth with her finger. How had she gotten upstairs? It reminded her of when she was a kid and no matter where she fell asleep in the house, come morning she was always tucked away in her own bed, with no recollection of how she got there. But that was when she was a child, all arms and legs, easy enough for her dad to heft around.
She wasn’t all arms and legs anymore. Had Henry really carried her up the stairs last night? The thought of it sent a quivering heat to her belly.
Edith heard the back door to the house open and shut. She shuffled down the stairs, the boards creaking beneath her as she made her way to the kitchen. The sight of Henry, both hands braced on the kitchen island and head bowed, drew her up short. “You okay?”
He swung his head up, the bruises on his face causing her to suck in a quick breath. “You’re awake.” He pointed to a brown sack. “I picked up some scones. There’s also coffee if you want it.”
“Thanks. You didn’t have to do that.” Edith moved next to him, grabbing a cup of coffee and peeking in the sack. The scent of warm blueberries wafted out. “But I’m awfully glad you did.”
She took a bite, washed it down with a sip of coffee, andwaited for Henry to do likewise. But he remained motionless, head bowed once more. “Is everything okay?” Edith sat down on one of the stools. “Sorry I fell asleep last night, by the way. You should have woken me up.”
He finally raised his head, met her gaze, his eyes transforming from serious to droll. “I did wake you up.”
“You did? I don’t remember you waking me up.”
“When the movie was over, I nudged you and said we should call it a night and get some sleep. You said, ‘Okay. See you later.’ Next thing I know, you’re halfway up the stairs and, by the time I reach you, crawling into my bed.”
Edith sputtered on her coffee. “I did not do that.” She coughed and attempted to clear her throat a few times while working hard not to laugh.
“Oh no? Then maybe you can explain to me how I ended up sleeping on the futon again.” He handed her a napkin.
“I thought you carried me,” Edith said, taking the napkin and coughing into it.
“You thought I carried you.”
“Yeah.” She wiped her mouth off and cleared her throat again. “I thought maybe you didn’t want to wake me or something.” She bit her bottom lip to keep from smiling at his wide-eyed expression. “What?”
“I’m just trying to imagine what that would have looked like, is all. I only started climbing stairs myself a little while back, and it’s slow going. Lugging your incapacitated body up each and every step... wow. You must think I’m pretty amazing.”
“Okay. First of all, I was not incapacitated. I wassleepy. Big difference. And secondly, all I meant was that I thoughtperhaps you didn’t wake me up because, I don’t know, you were being a gentleman or something.”
“Oh, I see. So what you’re saying is that when a man has an incapacitated woman—”
“Sleepy.”
“—in his home, alone, thegentlemanlything to do is carry her straight to his bed.”
Edith wadded up her napkin and aimed for his head. “Well, obviously I can see now that you are neither amazing nor a gentleman.”
