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I walk down the corridor of the nursing home. I’m just about to clock out from the night shift.
I’m on autopilot now.
Nothing could surprise me anymore. My faith in the male sex has been utterly and irrevocably ruined.
Rebecca’s heart is broken. My heart is broken.
The whole world is fucking broken.
I get to Bernard’s door and glance through the window and stop still on the spot.
My heart breaks all over again.
Henley is lying on his back in the hospital bed. His father is lying beside him. Bernard’s head is on Henley’s chest, and Henley’s arm is protectively around him. Henley is watching television as his father sleeps.
My eyes well with tears . . .
I know he doesn’t love me, but he sure loves his dad.
Lucky him.
Chapter 21
They say time heals all wounds. I don’t think that’s necessarily true.
But it sure gives you some perspective.
It’s been four weeks since Henley and I last spoke, three weeks and six days since I felt swept away and in the moment.
Five minutes since I’ve thought about him . . .
But I don’t care because I am completely and utterly over him. Henley who?
I mean, it’s not like we had a grand love affair. It was a few weeks. I got up, dusted myself off, and got over it.
It was the best grand love affair of all time . . .
Stop it . . . focus!
Barry runs to the front door, and then I hear a gentle knock, knock. I open and step back in surprise when I see him. His dark hair just messed up, still wearing his suit from work, he is the epitome of fuckable.
Why does he always smell so damn good?
“Henley.”
He gives me a lopsided smile. “How are you?”
“Good.” I look out into the street. Is he here alone?
“I . . . ahh . . . I just . . .” He’s tripping over his words and clearly nervous.
“Yes.” I act brave. “What is it?”
“I bought you some new—” He gestures to six potted plants lined up on my front porch.
I cut him off. “Weeds?”
“Apparently they’re plants.” He smiles, as if relieved at my joke. “Who knew?”
