It all felt so fresh again. Instantly. Like every layer of longing that I thought had covered up my memory of Henry had turned on me, all at once. All of the years apparently only made me crave him more, now.
I’d always thought I might go crazy one day. If it came in the form of hallucinating a very realistic, extremely sexy, lumberjack adult version of Henry, I guessed that was a good way to go.
I was transfixed watching the man repair the faulty shutter. He was just like I remembered Henry, but so much… different. Thicker. Sandy hair that was still a total mess. Clad in flannel, which was of course what my mind decided adult Henry would wear, and was of course hot as all fucking hell.
“Sir?” Genoveve’s voice chirped from beside me, snapping me out of my trance.
I pulled in a long breath, letting it out slowly as I let my eyelids flutter shut.
“Genoveve,” I said softly, turning to her. Her eyes were wider than I’d ever seen them. As she quirked her head to one side, her long strawberry-blonde braid fell off her shoulder and behind her head.
“What’s wrong?” she asked. “Where is the princess?”
“Remember how I always said that one day I’d likely go crazy, living the life I live?”
Genoveve nodded quickly.
“I’m afraid it’s happened. I hallucinated a man across the street at that house, fixing the shutter, and I know he isn’t there, but I’ve seen him as clearly as I see you. I’m ready to be put in a hospital. It’ll be okay living out the rest of my days there. Go ahead and make arrangements with my mother to get—”
“Sir?” Genoveve interjected, nodding over to the house. “That man?”
I glanced back over, falling silent.
“He’s right there,” Genoveve continued, reaching her arm out and pointing at him. “Would you like me to go fetch him for you, sir? You’d like to talk to this man, wouldn’t you?”
Every bone in my body had frozen cold all at once. “He’s… you see him?” I whispered, my voice hoarse.
“I’ll go tell this man that the prince would like to see him,” Genoveve said, giving me a respectful nod.
“No,” I said firmly, reaching to grab her hand. As we turned and walked away I saw Henry look over, squinting across the road.
I had no idea if he had seen me. My heart was slamming in my chest. I made my way back through the maze of Christmas trees in a beeline back to the princess.
“Have you found a painting you like?” I said, my voice coming out rushed and breathless.
“Oh, I adore so many of them—this one with the, how do you call it, dragonfly? And the mountain range—”
“I’ll take all four of these,” I said, quickly pulling out several crisp hundred dollar bills from my wallet and dropping them on the table.
“Goodness! All four—”
“Only the best for you, Princess Emma. But something’s come up, and I’d like to leave, now.”
“Oh,” Emma said, surprised. She smiled as she picked up her four small canvases, though. “Thank you so, so very much. And your work is beautiful,” she told the artist before we walked away.
I needed to get home. I needed to be alone in my wing of the castle, with a hefty glass of scotch, to calm the storm that had been kicked up inside me. I strode toward the far edge of the lot where Xavier had been holding my car, tucked away safely at the side of the parking lot. I ripped my leather gloves from my hands, suddenly feeling like I was boiling in my winter clothes.
As I approached the car, my chest tightened.
There was someone standing near the car.
Not near it. Leaning on it. Someone dressed in flannel, someone who couldn’t have been Henry but definitely was Henry.
I really was going to lose my mind today.
“Sir. Sir,” Xavier was saying as he got out of the driver’s side of the car and stormed over to the opposite side.
It was him. Leaning on the side of my car with his arms crossed, frowning down at the ground as he kicked a rock with his boot. The car had cost more money than any house in the village, and Henry was casually leaning on it like it was nothing more than a stack of dusty boxes.
He didn’t move an inch as Xavier started flailing, cursing at him and threatening to call various authorities.
And I felt an electricity inside me that I hadn’t felt in eleven years.
I loved it.
I loved that the expensive car didn’t mean shit to Henry. I loved that he was ignoring my driver.
I loved that as I walked over, Henry’s gaze glanced upward, and he met my eyes completely unwaveringly.
“Sebastian,” he said as I approached the car.
“That is no way to speak to the Prince,” Xavier spat. Henry didn’t even notice.
“Henry,” I said.
“You know this man?” Xavier said, and I managed to muster a nod. He rolled his eyes and begrudgingly turned and made his way back inside the car.
“Why are you here?” I asked.
“My mom died,” Henry said, staring at me like he wanted a challenge.
“Oh,” I said, deflating slightly. “I’m so sorry to hear that.”
“It was a peaceful death, in her sleep,” he said. “I’m here to fix up her house and sell it as fast as I can.”
I nodded. “Right. Well, I meant, why are you leaning against four hundred thousand dollars worth of luxury vehicle?”
His eyes narrowed for a split second.
“You into cars now, huh, Sebastian?” he asked, looking me up and down, his gaze so searing it felt like he might roast me alive.
“Just wanted you to know what you were doing,” I said, challenging him right back.
“I’m here, leaning on your precious luxury vehicle, because as soon as I saw you, I knew you were going to try to avoid me,” Henry said, his eyes never leaving mine, pure emerald-green fire. “I just wanted to make you do it straight to my face.”
I breathed in sharp, chilly air through my nostrils.
“I’ve never avoided—”
He puffed out a bitter laugh. “Quit the bullshit while you’re ahead.”
My jaw clenched. His words stung in a way I hadn’t felt in a long time.
“Fine,” I said, lifting an eyebrow. “Then get in the car.”
I knew he wouldn’t do it.
I held his gaze long enough to see the brief flash of shock that even Henry couldn’t hide. I had no idea what Henry had been expecting confronting me at my car, but it clearly wasn’t an invitation.
I looped around to the other side of the car, sliding into the long, leather back seat. Genoveve was already in the front passenger seat, and Princess Emma followed me, sitting at my left.
He wouldn’t do it. There was no way Henry would get in this car.
But then the door on the right of me swung open, and Henry landed on the far side of the seat, closing the door after him.
He smelled like pine and clean sweat and the promise of everything that had been missing from my life for eleven agonizingly long years. His body was all bulk, fitting in the back seat of the car awkwardly. He stretched out his legs, then pulled them back in again, like he didn’t quite know where to put them. I was so aware of how close my arm was to his, and I pulled myself in a little bit, making sure we wouldn’t touch.