Daydream (Maple Hills, #3)(29)
She looks so tiny when he picks her up and she rests her head against his chest. I watch as he takes in the room, eyes scanning shelves and surfaces as he strokes her. “I’m glad I knew your grandmother lived here before you, otherwise I’d be seriously questioning your interior design skills,” he says casually, turning his attention back to me.
“Oh.”
I don’t mean to say it out loud, but his tone just caught me off guard. I’ve always known the house is dated, so it shouldn’t be a surprise, but I guess I’m not used to having new visitors. My mom brings it up every time she visits, but I’m reluctant to erase Nana’s choices.
“That was rude,” Henry says quickly, rubbing the palm of his hand not cradling Joy against his jaw. He clears his throat. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“It’s totally fine,” I say instantly, slipping my apron back over my head, double wrapping it around my waist and tying it extra tight—like somehow that’ll help squeeze out the knot in my stomach at the thought of this house not feeling like hers anymore. “You’re right. I should definitely decorate.”
“You don’t have to tell me it’s fine, Halle.” He stands and walks around to my side of the counter, reaching for the bow tied at my side and tugging the loose end until it unravels and the apron strings fall. “I try really hard not to say things I shouldn’t, but sometimes, like when I’m tired, it’s harder to keep up with thinking about what I should say, not what my brain automatically wants to come out with.”
The apron molds to me as he pulls the strings to the base of my spine, not too loose and not too tight, and ties it into a bow. “You don’t have to filter yourself for me. I know you’re not being mean. You just say what you think.”
“It can be exhausting,” he admits, returning to the spot in front of me. “But so is seeing the look on… my friends’ face when my words hurt them.”
“They didn’t hurt me, I just… you are right about it. It’s kind of a weird long-winded situation.”
He returns to his seat and Joy tries to climb onto his shoulder. “Give me the speedy version.”
I start mixing the ingredients again, concentrating on my hands. “Hmm. Speedy version, okay. It was my dream to go to college in New York. Senior year of high school, Nana had a fall, which scared the shit out of Mom. Nana was old and stubborn, wouldn’t move closer or accept hired support. Mom was terrified every day, and I wanted to help, so I offered to move in with Nana to look after her and go to UCMH. I had already applied anyway as a safety choice. I got in. Nana bought Joy”—I nod toward the cat asleep on him, then look back at my hands—“to celebrate us being roomies and keep her company until I moved in. She got really sick and died right before I graduated high school.”
“That’s sad, Halle. Why didn’t you go to New York if it was your dream?”
I shrug, wondering how I can avoid mentioning that there was a part of me that wanted to stay closer to Will. Henry doesn’t like it when I bring up Will, which is fair because neither do I. I think it would be weird and complicated to try to explain how grief made me rely on him emotionally more than I ever had before.
“I was grieving and didn’t have it in me to change my plans again. My mom inherited this house and said I could still live here and redecorate it however I want. At first I was hurting too much from to grief to want to change anything, and as time has moved on, I don’t really have the time or the resources to redecorate a house by myself. There are a few things I definitely would change, but I kind of like living among all her weird mismatched things. Makes it feel like she’s still here.”
“I’m sorry I was rude,” he says. “And I wish you didn’t have to put everyone before yourself. If you ever decide you want to change those few things, I’ll help you. I’m very good at painting.”
“I don’t think you were rude… I don’t put everyone before myself. She was probably my best friend. Living with her would have been fun, although at the time I did worry about her wanting to go to frat parties. Would have absolutely annihilated everyone at beer pong, I bet. I just miss her, Henry. I’m not sad because of what you said. Promise.”
He nods and is quiet for a little while. The silence of the kitchen feels peaceful, not awkward, and I almost jump when he talks again. “Do you have an apron for me?”
The idea of watching Henry putter around my kitchen in a floral apron edged with frills immediately replaces all other thoughts in my head. “On the back of the door. And wash your hands, please.”
The corners of his mouth tug up. “Yes, Cap.”
He kicks his sneakers off and places them neatly next to the back door before returning Joy to her cat bed. After he’s washed his hands, he grabs the apron. I divert my attention from watching him to scanning the recipe book in front of me. My nana’s familiar cursive sweeps from left to right, and out of all the things in this house, this old, falling-apart recipe book is my favorite.
“I think it’s only fair I tell you I’ve never baked anything before,” Henry says, leaning against the counter beside me. “But I’m confident that my ability to be good at most things will also apply here.”
“Most things? What are you bad at?”