Page 29 of Second Chances

How’s Henry?

Make your move yet?

A guy like that can’t be single forever, you know…

Charlotte

Stop!!! No, I haven’t made a “move” yet.

Do you really think I should?

Amy

It’s that or keep waiting.

Aren’t you tired of that?

Amy was right; she was tired of waiting, and made up her mind that after lunch, she’d go see Henry and try one final time with him. Invigorated by her decision, she started replying to Amy but froze when the man in front of her gave his order to the barista. “I’ll have my usual smoothie order and one of those warm chicken salad sandwiches.” That deep voice belonged to only one man. Henry.

Sadie, the barista, laughed. “Henry, when will I convince you to try another smoothie blend?”

Entranced, Charlotte watched his wide shoulders lift as he told Sadie, “If I find something that works, I stick with it.”

“You’re just like your future daughter-in-law, who also orders that same sandwich. I swear, Effie is in here every other day for it.”

Screwing up every ounce of courage and bravado she possessed, Charlotte blurted, “That’s my favorite, too,” to his broad back, hoping she displayed a calm demeanor as he turned around. Heart slamming into her chest, her brown eyes locked with his sky-blue ones. Breathlessly, she noted how his pupils dilated. A sign, according to Amy, of interest, still evident after so many agonizing months of no contact.

“Is that everything, Henry?” asked Sadie.

Without taking his eyes from Charlotte, he said, “And whatever Charlotte is having.”

Quickly, Charlotte replied, “Oh no, you don’t have to⁠—”

“Please,” he said gruffly, “let me buy your lunch.”

Under his spell, she nodded. “Thank you.” To Sadie, she requested, “I’ll have the same sandwich, a large English toffee breve, and a glass of water, please. Oh, and can you add a brownie?”

Dusting snow from the ends of her hair, she stilled as his large hand stroked a curl on her shoulder. “You missed some.” His eyes held hers as he did it again. He was close enough to inhale the mint on his breath and the fabric softener from his clothes. Head spinning from nerves and hormones, Charlotte grasped her opportunity. “Would you care to join me for lunch?”

Henry glanced at one of the large front windows. Charlotte braced herself, worried he was going to tell her he had to leave. He surprised her instead. “I would love to.”

Relief made her legs tremble as they walked to an empty table, and when Henry pulled her chair out for her, she all but collapsed. Holding her chair, his fingers brushed her shoulders as his heat seared her through the thickness of her coat and sweater. Isobel frequently complained that chivalry was dead, but it wasn’t: not in Charlotte’s beloved Jane Austen novels, or in the Jojo Moyes books she had recently discovered. Or in her favorite TV show, Bridgerton. Or here, in real life Beverley, with Henry, whose breath whispered into her hair as he slid her chair in.

Once he sat down, he removed his Minnesota Twins baseball cap. “My mom would kill me if she knew I was wearing this indoors.” He winced and placed the cap on his knee.

“My dad was a huge Twins fan. We all used to go to a few games every year.”

The dimple in his chin flashed at her when he smiled. “Yeah, us too. My folks would load the three of us up in the car bright and early in the morning. Sometimes we’d stay overnight in the cities, all in one room. I did the same thing with Josh when he was a teenager.”

Trying to slow her racing heart, she wiped the remaining condensation from her glasses. “We did that with Isobel, but she was only interested in the snack bar.”

“You have amazing eyes.” His deep voice stopped her heart. “Like melted chocolate.”

With jittery fingers, she pushed her glasses up her nose, entranced by his blue gaze. “I can’t believe you’re here…I feel like it’s been forever since I’ve seen you.” His finger traced a pattern on his water glass, reigniting the naughty thoughts she’d had of him doing the same thing to her inner thigh, the tops of her breasts, her neck, in that little sensitive spot right under her ear, until so slowly, he ran it down⁠—

“I’ve wanted to see you, too.” His soft voice interrupted her fantasy. “I tried, actually.” When? The last time she had seen him had been outside Effie’s house. Embarrassed by the memory, she flushed. “First at the musical last year.” His crystal-blue eyes were sincere as they held hers. “Effie told me you were directing it, so I went to opening night.” How could she not have known? Not sensed he was there? Amy and Isobel had come up for the weekend, and the production, her largest to date, had been both exhausting and exhilarating. “And then I saw the one-act plays last fall.” His eyes never broke from hers. “They were incredible.”

His confession seemed loaded with a secret meaning. What else had she missed? “You came to the plays?” Without her noticing, her beverages were now in front of her.