Page 87 of The Virgin Romance Novelist Chronicles
Shaking his head, he ran his hand over his face and then walked away.
Yup. I got the moron of the year award.
“Henry, I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, me too, Rosie. Have fun with the dog lover tonight. I’ll be out for the weekend. Mikey invited me to the Hamptons.”
“Wait, does that mean you’re not going to brunch?”
“Yes, that means I won’t make it to brunch, since I’ll most likely be wasted starting tonight and ending Monday morning.”
“You’re really not going?” I asked, feeling crushed that he was already starting to shut me out.
“I’m really not going, Rosie. I’m sorry, but I don’t feel like being around you right now.”
“But, Henry.” My voice choked on a sob that wanted to escape. The minute he heard the tightness in my voice, he sighed, walked over to me, and pulled me into his chest. “You can’t just leave me. This is why I didn’t want anything to happen. I can’t have you mad at me, Henry. Please don’t push yourself away, I can’t handle it.”
Blowing out a frustrated breath, Henry nodded and then pulled away. “Sorry, love. Just give me some time right now. All right? I’ll see you Monday. Have a good weekend, and have fun with the dog lover. Don’t get into any trouble.”
A weak smile spread across his face as he nodded and walked away.
I could feel it. It was the beginning of the end for Henry and me. I knew he said it wouldn’t affect us, but it already had. But his words . . .Don’t you see the way I look at you every day, the way I touch you and talk to you? Can’t you see my heart beat out of my fucking chest every time I’m around you?I had no clue what to do. Did I see the way he treated me? Yes. It was him though. That’s how Henry was. But if he really felt like that, why was he already pushing himself away? Because with each backward step he made, a little piece inside of me died. I wouldn’t be able to survive without Henry. He was everything to me, absolutely everything.
* * *
My mood for my date with Greg was dampened, thanks to the horrible conversation with Henry I had right before I left, but I tried to put on a good face when I met Greg, who was just as handsome in his pictures as he was in person.
Along with Greg, was his best buddy, Bear, who seemed to be a very loving but protective dog. The dynamic between the two was endearing, and I could appreciate the bond they had with each other, even though it might be weird that Greg practically made out with his dog every chance he got.
After some semi-awkward pleasantries and introductions, we jumped right into the pizza making, which was good for me because I was starving.And I need the diversion so I can’t see Henry’s crestfallen expression in my head, or think about what he said. .
Greg lived on the Upper West side and had a small but nice apartment. If your apartment wasn’t small in New York City, then you were raking in some good money. Greg was a young investment broker but according to him, he was on the “up-and-up” with his company and was looking at a promotion soon. He spoke animatedly about his job, like he actually liked it, and it surprised me to see someone so enthusiastic about their occupation.
Maybe it was because I despised my job. Delaney and Henry occasionally talked about what they were doing but, for the most part, kept their excitement to a minimum.
“So tell me, Rosie, what brought you to New York City?” Greg asked as he popped open a bottle of wine, something I would probably have to choke down because wine wasn’t my favorite of all the alcoholic beverages.
“My parents live on Long Island.”
“Ah, I never would have pictured you as a girl from Long Island.”
“Yes, I break all the stereotypes,” I joked. “When I was in high school, I wanted to get off the island and on the real one, so I worked my butt off in school and was accepted into NYU where I majored in English.”
“English? Interesting. Tell me, what’s your favorite book?”
“No doubt about it, Pride and Prejudice. It’s the ultimate romance in my opinion.”
Nodding, Greg handed me a glass of wine and went to the fridge where he pulled out a bowl of dough that he must have made earlier, because it seemed like the dough had risen throughout the day.
“Who is your Mr. Darcy?”
“Is that even a question? Colin Firth. Come on, Greg.” I smiled.
“Okay, just checking because if you said the guy who was in the new version of Pride and Prejudice, you know, the one with Kiera Knightley . . .”
“Matthew Macfadyen.”
“Really? That’s his name?” Greg asked with a confused look. “Huh, never would have guessed that. Anyway, if you said that guy, I would have had to end this date.”
