Page 60 of Dear Henry, Love Edith
“Would the two lovebirds stop flirting long enough so we can get this game started?”
Edith’s hand shot away from his shirt. Laughter and a few catcalls burst from the bleachers.Nice.
“Good luck,” Edith said, ducking her head.
“Yeah, thanks. I’ll need it. You sticking around?”
“Uh...” She shrugged her shoulders, walking away, glancing halfway back. “Maybe. For a bit. I don’t know.”
Henry couldn’t let her walk away. “Keep score,” he blurted.
“Would Henry Hobbes please report to the dugout?” Lance’s voice boomed out, eliciting more laughter. “Henry Hobbes to the dugout please.”
Henry ignored Lance, keeping his gaze locked on Edith. “We need someone to keep the scorecard for us. Can you do it?” He could see Edith waffling. “Please?”
She blew her bangs from her eyes. “Sure. Why not?”
“Great.” He waved her toward the dugout, feeling a small sense of victory. This was something at least. A start. Before the end of summer took her away.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
What was she still doing here? Other than making a huge mistake.
Edith batted a mosquito away from her face and slapped her arm. She was going to have to bathe in anti-itch cream after this evening. She should have walked the long route to Kat’s house like originally planned. But no. Edith just had to cut through the park, didn’t she? Just had to spot Henry. Just had to say hi.
And now she just couldn’t walk away. Thirty minutes after the game had ended.
She smacked her leg. “Bloodthirsty mongers,” she muttered.
“Tell me about it. Those girls about drained every last Popsicle out of me.” Henry plopped a red-and-white cooleronto the empty bleacher seat next to Edith. “But don’t worry. I managed to save you one. Hope you like banana.”
“Blech.”
“I’ll take that as a sorta-kinda?” His mouth quirked up in a half smile, making his eyes crinkle at the edges. “Thanks for staying.”
Oh yeah. This was definitely a huge mistake. She dropped her gaze and made like she was slapping another bug from her leg. “Good thing I did. What was the final score? Three hundred and twenty-three to five hundred and nine?”
Henry chuckled and sank next to her on the bleacher, his elbow brushing hers. “Something like that.”
“To be honest, I was only sticking around for the Popsicle. Now that I know it’s banana—” Edith pulled a face and leaned forward, pretending to leave.
“You know, you were a lot less high-maintenance when I thought you were an old lady.”
Henry had grabbed hold of her hand, and Edith was doing her best to act like it wasn’t a big deal. “I still can’t believe we were both under the wrong impression about each other. I thought I was sharing a house with Walter Matthau. You know, fromGrumpy Old Men.”
“I thought I was sharing a house with Betty White fromThe Golden Girls.”
Edith snorted. “Betty White,” she mumbled. “You know who’s to blame for all of this.”
Edith and Henry spoke at the same time. “Kat.”
They both chuckled and slid into a companionable silence. Edith slipped her hand out of Henry’s, not becauseshe didn’t relish the contact. She did. But she was also hot. And sweating. And shouldn’t be relishing the contact.
She discreetly swiped her palms against the denim fabric of her jean shorts. The sun had dipped low enough to paint the sky a mixture of orange and pink. Clouds stretched and ripped apart like cotton candy over the cornfields beyond the ballpark.
“I love that.” Henry waved his hand toward the view. “I know it’s not a majestic mountain or a sandy shore, but... I don’t know. To me, it’s beautiful. I like living here.”
He leaned back and propped his arms on the bleacher behind them. “Do you miss Pittsburgh?”
