Page 71 of Dear Henry, Love Edith
“There’s some things I think we should talk about.”
“Oh, there definitely are now,” Edith muttered.
Henry’s eyes crinkled in a smile as he lowered his hands back to his sides. “Why don’t we hold off until we’re both well rested. Or at least until I’m well rested.”
She noticed the shadows beneath his eyes. “You do look tired. Downright ragged, really.”
“Thank you.”
“Wrung out.”
“I get it.”
“Dragged through the mud.”
“I’m going now.”
Edith followed him to the door, their familiar banter more welcome than the cool breeze slipping in through the open window above the kitchen sink. “Henry, I am sorry about this whole engagement thing. I did try to straighten it out. Really, I did. But there was so much...screaming. And happiness. I didn’t know what to do.”
Henry’s lips lifted in a tired smile as he squeezed her hand. “It’s just a little misunderstanding. Nothing to worry about.”
Edith wasn’t so convinced. Whenever she closed her eyes, she still had flashbacks of the maniacal grin on Julie’s face as she sprinted toward her with chest heaving, fists pumping. That was one very excited woman. And Edith sure as heck didn’t want to be the one to tell her the engagement wasjust a little misunderstanding.
But that wasn’t even the most worrisome thing on Edith’s mind. “Henry, wait.” She opened her mouth but couldn’t seem to make any words come out of her mouth.
“The letter?”
She nodded.
He held her gaze for several beats before leaning down and placing a soft kiss against her brow. “Like I said, we’ll figure it out later. Good night, Edith.”
She closed the door behind him and touched her fingers to where his lips had just been, wondering which part was going to be harder to figure out—the engagement or their feelings for each other.
Oh, why did she have to write that last letter?
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Frank Sinatra’s voice belted out from the speakers late Monday morning, and for once Henry didn’t mind.
“I’m officially handing you your walking papers,” Lance said. “No more canes. No more therapy. No more restrictions. Well, within reason, of course. I don’t think hiking Mount Kilimanjaro should be on your list of activities this year.”
“Thanks, man.” Henry held his hand out with his palm facing upward.
Lance looked at it and slapped his palm on top of it.
“What are you doing?” Henry asked.
“Giving you five. Did you want to do a fist bump instead?”
“No. I thought you were giving me my walking papers.”
“Dude, man, it’s just a figure of speech. I don’t have any actual papers for you.”
“Oh. So I can leave now?”
“Yeah,” Lance said with a laugh. “Get out of here. Don’t come back. I don’t ever want to see your ugly mug pass through that doorway again, you hear?”
Henry started to leave.
