Page 82 of Having Henley
Forty
Henley
“Conner hates me.”
I watch Tess’s shoulders stiffen under the weight of my words, the slope of them tensing for a brief moment before relaxing. I know I’m not being fair to her. That she’s Conner’s friend now, more than she is mine. I need to at least try to keep her from getting caught in the middle.
The problem is, she’s all I have here. She’s the only person I can talk to about this.
I think about the way he looked at me when I pulled back from whispering in his ear.
I’m still hoping you’ll change your mind.
I thought I was being so clever. So cool. I wanted to prove it didn’t bother me. That I didn’t care that he had some other girl exactly where he had me, just last night. I wanted him to know I understood what this was. What we were. That I could do casual, just as easy as he could.
But when I pulled away and looked up at him, He looked like I’d just spit on him.
“He doesn’t hate you, Henley,” she says, cutting into her stack of pancakes with the kind of precision you’d see a surgeon perform a triple bypass. “He’s just… different than he was when you knew him. It’s going to take time for the two of you to get to know each other again, is all.”
Time. The one thing I don’t have.
As soon as we walked into the diner, we were swallowed by a crush of people. Drunk college kids and blue-collar types, mixed with more than a few affluent types, all standing around, waiting for a table.
“Maybe we should go somewhere else,” I say snagging Tess’s arm before she disappeared too deep into the crowd.
“Don’t worry,” she says giving me a crooked smile. “We’ll get a table.”
As soon as she says it, a loud voice erupts from behind the hostess station. “Hey, Audrey.” A face appears, hovering just above the podium, a pair of sharp, dark brown eyes peering up at us. It’s the same waitress who worked here when I was younger, Nora. I recognize her instantly. “Where're my boys?”
“Just me and my friend tonight.” Tess leans in, her smile softening around the edges. She could always be charming when she wanted to be. “Cap’n’s still wrapping stuff up at the bar, and Con said he had someplace to be.”
“I bet he did.” The cackle that erupts from behind the podium is loud and raucous. “That boy’s a walkin’, talkin’ pile of trouble,” she says while her sharp gaze rakes over my face. “What you lookin’ at, Rita?”
Rita?
I open my mouth to tell her my name isn’t Rita, but Tess stops me by putting a hand on my arm. “Nora, you remember Henley O’Connell, don’t you?”
As soon as she says my name, Nora’s eyes narrow on my face, making me feel self-conscious. Even though I look nothing like I did eight years ago, I still find myself worried that the woman will recognize me. “Henley O’Connell, huh?” she says, her sparse eyebrows arched high on her wrinkly forehead. “You’re the girl who broke my Con’s heart.”
It wasn’t a question. It was a statement, and I had the distinct impression that she was contemplating ripping out my jugular with her teeth.
“Well—”
“Is the booth open?” Tess cuts in, saving me from saying something that would undoubtedly make things worse. “I need pancakes.”
As soon as Nora turned feral, she settled again with another loud cackle. “Girl, you always need pancakes.” She shoots me another sharp look before she waves her hand. “Booth’s open—I’ll send Tina over with coffee.”
Tess hauls me away before anything else can be said.
Now, I look up from my French toast, aiming a scowl at her bent head. “Well, Nora sure as hell hates me.”
“She’s protective of her Gilroy boys. Even Declan.” Tess laughs, lifting one shoulder higher than the other. “I suppose if Cari were here, she’d get a tongue lashing too.”
“Cari?”
“Cari Faraday—she’s a friend,” Tess tells me around a mouthful of pancakes. “Patrick met her in college, and they became roommates. And then more the roommates...” She shrugs her shoulders. “She moved back home a few months ago. Ohio.” She says it like it’s a dirty word. I can tell there’s more to the story but whatever the more is I’m not going to get it out of her. Not today.
We sit here for a few minutes, neither one of us saying anything. Before the silence can grow uncomfortable, I remember something I wanted to tell her. “Oh! You’re never going to guess who I ran into this afternoon.” Before she can take a guess, I keep talking. “Jessica Renfro. She was in the elevator of my apartment building with Ephraim Viaga.” I don’t have to tell Tess who Ephraim Viaga is. She’s almost as big a Red Sox fan as I am. “They were all over each other, and she didn’t recognize me, so I…” I let my story trail off as I watch the color drain out of Tess’s face. “What’s wrong?”
