Still, I grab my phone and type back, “Did you ever find out if you can make my dad’s wedding?”
It takes him a few minutes to answer that time. He’s probably driving the rest of the way to the courthouse, but when he gets there, he texts back, “Will you hate me if I don’t go?”
“Of course not,” I send back. “That’s fine, I just wanted to know.”
“If it’s important to you, I’ll pull a half day. Maybe I can catch the reception? I really have a lot of work to do though, I can’t clear the whole weekend. I’m sorry.”
“Totally fine,” I type back. “Don’t even worry about the reception. I’m pretty sure I won’t die if I have to do the chicken dance by myself.”
“Will you really do the chicken dance? I’m reconsidering my refusal.”
Smiling faintly, I roll my eyes, “Go to court and leave me alone.”
“God, you’re irresistible.”
“Like cuddling a cactus,” I reply.
“A really hot cactus.”
“Weirdo,” I shoot back.
“All right, I’m really late. Talk to you later.”
I send a cactus emoji and close the message. As I set my phone aside, I feel much more prepared to take on the manuscript. It’s just a story, after all. Not my story, just a story.
Chapter Two
I’m sitting in front of my computer with headphones on, staring intently at the screen. Too intently, I guess, because I completely miss the man who lets himself into my house until he puts a white bag full of yummy-smelling food down on my desk. Then my gaze jumps to him.
I hit pause, taking off my headphones, then unplugging them from the laptop.
“Ever heard of knocking?” I ask him.
Completely unapologetic, he steals the chair from Louise’s desk and drags it over next to mine before dropping into it. “Ever heard of locking your door? You’re going to get murdered.”
“I locked it earlier; Louise must have left it unlocked when she left. Anyway, I have a foolproof anti-murder-victim plan. If anyone ever comes into my house unexpectedly, I’ll confuse them until they leave. I’ll demand to know why they didn’t bring food, and start talking to them until they think I’m crazy. They’ll be so thrown off, they’ll go murder someone else instead.”
He leans forward to take our food out of bags, handing me a white carton and plastic utensils. “Maybe you’ll ruin their murder routine so effectively they’ll give up murder altogether and turn over a new leaf.”
I nod emphatically. “Especially after I invite them to have a seat and watch this TED talk with me. Which is what we are about to do, for the record. I already started it, but I’m only two minutes in so I’ll restart it for you.”
“You’re too kind,” he says, dryly, as he leans back in his own chair and nods at the laptop. “What’s this one about?”
“This guy is talking about what makes a life worth living.”
Henry cocks an eyebrow at me. “Are you struggling with that?”
“No,” I say, shrugging. “I just like to expand my mind. You know this about me.”
“I do.” Being the observant man he is, however, he notes the white paperback on my desk. “Is that a self-help book? Is something going on I should know about?”
“No,” I say, laughing lightly. “I’m good. I’m just doing some independent study. I’m listening to this series of philosophy lectures in my downtime.”
“Downtime; what’s that?”
“No kidding,” I say, planting my fork in the generous scoop of rice and leaning forward. “Ready to start?”
“Sure.” He misses a beat. “Sorry I had to cancel dinner earlier.”