I put the plate of food onto the table in front of him.

“Thanks.”

I sit down at the table with my plate, and he begins to eat in silence. He really is hungry. He’ll feel better after he eats. I’m sure.

I chatter on through dinner about every single subject on earth. I haven’t brought up his dad . . . I don’t know how to, and I don’t want to trigger him.

I just have to be patient; he’ll talk to me about it when he’s ready.

We finish dinner, and I load the dishwasher. “I made you some chocolate pudding.” I smile hopefully.

“Thanks, babe.” He kisses me softly. “I’m just . . . tired. I’m going to go straight to bed.” He kisses me again, his lips lingering over mine. “I’m exhausted.”

“Okay.” I smile, feeling a little better.

He goes to walk away, and I pull him back by the hand. “You know how much I love you, right?”

He nods. “I’ll eat the pudding tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

He trudges up the stairs, and I hear the shower turn on. And for the first time today, a sense of calm falls over me. I think it’s going to be all right.

I wake with a start. Henley is gone.

He seemed to have slept well, while I tossed and turned all night before falling into an exhausted sleep around 3:00 a.m. I didn’t hear him get up and leave because by then I was out like a log.

I think he’s gone to work, but honestly, who knows?

There is one comforting thing, at least. I know that Henley does autopilot like a pro. And if autopilot is what he needs to do for a while, then that’s totally fine.

Keeping busy is probably the best for him at the moment. If he needs to be a workaholic this week, then so be it. I just wish I wasn’t on fucking afternoon shift this week. I’ll swap my shifts or take the week off.

I need to be home for him this week.

I get up and get into the shower. First things first. I’m going to Goodwill to get his father’s things back. I’m going to hide them in my attic, and I know that one day Henley will be grateful that I got them.

Or maybe not . . . but I can’t stand the thought of his family photo albums being thrown into the trash. They are way too valuable; I’ll keep them for myself if he doesn’t want them.

I glance at my watch. “Damn it, Henley.” It’s 2:00 p.m., and I’ve called him twice, and he hasn’t called me back. I can’t imagine the torture going on in his head right now, and I know I need to give him space, but seriously? He can’t even return my call?

Fuck.

He’s gone onto autopilot and is blocking me out. I know it. I can feel it in the pit of my stomach.

A car drives into the street and pulls into Henley’s driveway. Who’s that? I peer through the curtain; the relatives must be turning up.

Maybe he’s been at the funeral home all day today. Yes . . . that’s it. Of course that’s where he is.

I keep spying through my curtains, and to my surprise, Jenny gets out of the car.

What the fuck is she doing here?

I watch as she walks up to his front door and opens it with a key.

She has a key?

Adrenaline surges through my system, and before I can stop myself, I find myself marching over there. I walk in without knocking, “Hello?” I call.

Jenny walks out of his office and exhales heavily when she sees me as if I am a huge inconvenience to her. “Hello, Juliet.”

“What are you doing here?” I ask.

“Getting Henley’s passport.”

“Why?”

“He’s going to Dubai tonight.”

“He’s not going to Dubai alone,” I snap, infuriated.

“He won’t be alone. I’m going with him.”

Chapter 28

“What?” I step back from her in shock. I can’t have heard that right. “What are you talking about?” I snap, infuriated. “Henley can’t go anywhere. He has a funeral to plan.”

Jenny rolls her eyes in an overexaggerated way. “If you knew him at all, you would know that his father didn’t want a funeral.”

Her sarcastic tone lights a fire in my temper, and I lose all control and point to the door. “Get out.”

“What?”

“Get out of this fucking house before I call the police on you for trespassing.”

“You cannot call the police on me,” she scoffs. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“What I should have done a long time ago: exposing you for the nasty piece of work you are.”

“Go to hell,” she fires back. “You think you are so important, but we all know that you’ll be gone soon.”

“Henley is grieving, and at a time like this he needs support, not to be talked into ridiculous travel plans.”

“He wants to go to Dubai,” she spits. “Working is his happy place.”

“Working is not his happy place,” I yell, infuriated. “He needs time to process his loss. Get off his back about work.”

Fuck this bitch.

She rolls her eyes. “You know nothing about this situation.” She marches past me and out the front door.

“Oh yeah, Jenny. That’s not entirely true,” I call after her. “I know you need to look for a new job.”

She glares at me and gets into her car, and I slam the front door in fury.

You are so getting fired . . . stupid bitch.

Ugh!

I am infuriated.

I wait for her to drive away, and I storm over to my house to get my phone. I call Henley.

Ring, ring . . . ring, ring . . . ring, ring . . .

“You’ve reached Henley James. Leave a message.”

“Damn it, Henley.” My heart is racing. He wouldn’t leave for Dubai tonight, would he?

Surely not?

He wouldn’t. I know he wouldn’t.

He’s in self-destruct mode. Anything is possible.

Fuck.

What do I do?

I call him again.

Ring, ring . . . ring, ring . . . ring, ring . . .

“You’ve reached Henley James. Leave a message.”