HALLE

“WHAT ABOUT FOR TEN MILLION dollars?”

I frown at Aurora over my forkful of ravioli. “No.” “What about eleven million?” she continues.

Cami puts her glass back on the table and picks up her cutlery. “I’ll cancel my plans and come with you for eleven million dollars.”

“I only have the funds to bribe one friend today! You have a week with Briar and Summer,” Aurora argues, absentmindedly moving plates around. She’s separated the strawberries from her salad and is pushing them onto my empty side plate. “Halle has a week with the Antichrist.”

The waiter is trying not to laugh as he re1lls the glasses of water on the table, and I can’t blame him. Every time he’s visited our table, Aurora has been calling Will something new in a bid to make me change my plans.

Aurora is upset I’m still going on vacation with my family instead of with her, Poppy, and Emilia. Considering how I don’t want me to go on this trip, either, it’s kind of nice to have someone be the dramatic one on your behalf. While she’s de1nitely more creative than me, her outrage is enough for the both of us. “He’s a jackass, but I wouldn’t call him the Antichrist, Ror.”

“He’s blond!” she splutters.

Poppy looks up from her phone, visibly confused. “You’re blond. Russ is blond.”

“Russ is light brown,” she argues, looking oIended. “Will is blond blond.

Sneaky blond. Untrustworthy blond.”

“I know you’ve made looking like a Barbie doll one of your core identities, but normal people don’t have personalities de1ned by their hair color,” Emilia says, being the voice of reason. “Will is a jerk because he’s a jerk, not because he’s blond.”

“Of course you’d say that. Your hair is brown,” Aurora counters.

I 1nish the last of Aurora’s strawberries and take the napkin from my lap, placing it next to my empty plate. “How about… I still go on my vacation because he won’t be there the whole time because he needs to leave early for a game. But, if his head starts spinning or he starts speaking in tongues, I’ll let you put me on a Right.”

“Fine,” she says, throwing her napkin onto her empty plate. “But your sister followed me, and she promised to keep me up to date because I don’t trust you not to tell me what I want to hear. So just know, I’ll be watching.”

I think if I were a little stronger I’d have bowed out of this trip a month ago. Mom and I had a great chat after I arrived home from Henry’s place. If I stank of sex and sadness, she didn’t mention it as she cuddled me on the couch. I didn’t tell her what Will had said, but I let her know that it was horrible enough that I was never speaking to him ever again.

She apologized for not realizing how much she put on me. She told me I was her rock, the one who kept her sane through all the stressful times, but that her dependence on me had robbed me of so much. She cried when she told me she worried that I’d matured too quickly and that’s why I struggled to make friends. And that she thought maybe my reward for being so selRess was one of those once-in-a-lifetime kinds of love.

I told her I was never in love with Will, but maybe it could still be true.

She said she didn’t expect me to come on the vacation anymore if I didn’t want to, but I do really miss Gianna and Maisie. I already missed the holidays with them; I can cope with ignoring Will for a few days.

I know that Mom no longer feels any kind of allegiance to Will. In fact, I’d say she probably hates him now, knowing what she knows. She doesn’t bring him up when she calls, and she only ever asks me how I’m doing and what I’m up to. Well, she tries, and I don’t mind helping out with some things. Maybe next year she can plan the trip and I can go away with my friends.

When the 1ve of us were desperately trying to edit my book, Mom sent a care package with snacks and candles, which showed me she heard what I said and is trying to be better.

“You’re the only person worrying!” I lie, telling Aurora what she wants to hear. “I’m excited to hang out with my siblings. It’s going to be great. And be careful, Gigi will extort you for race tickets. She’s just gotten into Formula 1.”

“You’re going to have to get better at lying,” Emilia says, waving her piece of pizza around as she talks. “I can’t be surrounded by bad liars. I want to work in PR and it might rub oI on me.”

Romano’s isn’t as busy as I expected it to be on a Friday afternoon given I’ve never been able to get a reservation here. My spring break o cially started yesterday since I have no Friday classes, but for everyone else, their break started an hour ago.

We agreed to meet for lunch before heading on our respective trips, to celebrate me 1nally submitting my novel to the competition. Poppy wanted me to do it here at the table in front of them all, but it felt like something I needed to do alone to fully absorb.

I 1nished a book.

I 1nished a freaking book, and I did something for myself.

I learned a lot in the process, and in the end, it wasn’t about the knowledge I learned from the experiences I was given by Henry. The most important thing that this whole project has taught me is that putting myself 1rst doesn’t mean that I have to do it alone. Having people to help and cheer me on while I did this thing for myself is what made it actually enjoyable in the end.

Even if I don’t win and I don’t get to go to New York this summer, writing the book has given me more than I ever imagined it could anyway.

Lunch runs over, leaving me rushing to get back home to grab my bags in time for my scheduled Uber. The drive past Maple Avenue makes my heart ache; Henry’s texts became less frequent as February passed, and I haven’t heard from him since he texted me saying that he was working on 1xing everything and he missed me.

I told him there was no pressure to keep me updated, so it was hard to battle mentally expecting no updates but also wanting them so, so much.

I’m happy he’s 1xing things, and I want him to feel better. I can’t pretend it didn’t sting to see him posted in pictures out for dinner with Nate and his other friends. The stunningly beautiful girl beside him in the picture made my stomach drop because I didn’t recognize her, but Aurora immediately reassured me that she’s Nate’s younger sister.

Jealousy is a weird new emotion for me, especially because of the guilt it brought. I laughed in the end, because it resulted in my friends telling me all the times they’ve been jealous and unhinged. Cami was the clear winner, and after one story where everyone just stared in disbelief, she decided that she might be toxic.

In reality, I see how Henry spending time with his friends would be good for his well-being. In the alternative reality, the place where I get everything I want, Henry is with me.

I promised the girls I wasn’t going to think about him or us while I was away, and I’d deal with my feelings when I’m home. But it’s the knowledge that I need to not think about it that’s making me hallucinate that Henry’s sitting on my porch as I pull into my driveway.

Shutting oI my engine, I stare. The hallucination holds up a hand, mouthing hi. It moves toward my car until it’s beside my door. The door opens, and the hallucination talks.

“Are you having a moment? Why are you staring at me like that?” I poke it in the stomach, and I’m met with the same hard surface I’ve touched so many times. “Ow, Halle. Are you going to get out of your car?”

I’ve spent the past month wondering how I’ll react when Henry 1nally shows back up in my life. I Ripped between elation and anger, depending on where I was in my menstrual cycle. I wasn’t expecting to feel so… guarded?

He crouches down beside me, hand shielding his eyes to block out the LA sunshine. “You’re not a hallucination. You changed your hair. And you have a beard. You look diIerent.”

Henry’s auburn curls are braided into cornrows. He nods, running his hand over the crown of his head. “Lower maintenance. It isn’t a beard; I just haven’t shaved this week. Can we go inside, or do you want to sit in your car forever?”

“I don’t have a lot of time to talk because my ride to the airport is coming soon.”

“I want any time you have,” he says softly.

Joy clearly doesn’t have the same weird, unsettled apprehension I have, because she makes a beeline for him like he’s catnip. He looks so much happier than the last time I saw him. Aurora and I enforced a rule where she didn’t oIer information about Henry and I didn’t ask, with the promise that in an emergency she would update me.

It feels so silly now seeing him standing in front of me, perfectly 1ne. Henry has always called me dramatic for various reasons, so I guess it’s on-brand.

Cami says that because I made prioritizing myself a goal but it always felt so unobtainable, it makes sense that I would be so accepting of someone else trying to do the same. Especially when, in her words, she would have been pounding her 1st against his door after the 1rst week. It made me wonder if I was sel1sh to leave him to deal with things on his own. I guess now that he’s in front of me I could ask him, but I don’t know if I’m ready to hear the answer.

“I missed you,” he says, crossing the room to stand in front of me.

“I missed you, too,” I respond, deciding not to move out of reach when his hands reach to cup my face. His warm grip soothes the anxiety that’s been rumbling through me for weeks, and I 1ght the urge to cry.

His forehead rests against mine; his voice lowers. “Thank you for giving me space to work on myself.”

I couldn’t speak louder than a whisper even if I wanted to. “You’re welcome.” He kisses my forehead tenderly, breathing in deeply before taking a step back. “We both know I’m not always the best person with words, and I know you have a vacation to go on, but I wanted to give you this.” He hands me a small sealed bubble mailer. “It’ll get through TSA. An email will come through soon, so

don’t open the envelope until you receive it.”

“This is very mysterious and secretive,” I say, shaking the mailer.

“It’s a gift. To show you how much you mean to me, and that I’m sorry for needing so much time. I’m scared you think it’s because you’re not important to me, when in reality it took so long because you do mean so much to me.”

“So it’s my fault? That you couldn’t feel better?”

“No,” he says harshly. “Just that I wasn’t in a good place and I wanted to get out of it so I didn’t make you the anchor. I don’t want to be a person who relies on you to 1x everything. I can explain everything when you get home from vacation if you have questions. I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

“Okay. I’d like that.” The arrival noti1cation on my phone rings, and looking out my living room window con1rms my ride is here. “I have to go, I’m sorry. I don’t want to miss my Right.”

The driver beeps twice before I decide I need to touch Henry before I leave. His arms wrap around me tightly when I step toward him for a hug. His lips press against the crown of my head. “Bye, Cap. See you in a week.”

TO THE ABSOLUTE HORROR OF my Uber driver, I cry the whole way to LAX.

I don’t even know why I’m crying, and neither does he, given he thinks the best thing to do is turn up the radio and blast rock music. I rate him 1ve stars and leave him a nice tip as an apology, and drag my suitcase through the airport to the check-in counter while promising myself this will be the last time I cry this week.

If I turn up to this vacation emotional it’ll be like blood in the water for the Ellingtons and I won’t know a second of peace. They maintain that their beautiful baby boy was a victim in the disagreement that caused so much trouble for Henry. I maintain that they suck.

I decide to label the emotion causing my outburst in the car as relief. Relief he’s okay, relief I’ve seen him with my own eyes, relief that he thinks he was gone too long as well, relief that he wants to see me when I’m home.

The check-in line is moving slowly, as the airport’s normal busy nature is increased exponentially by the number of people leaving for the week. My phone buzzes in my hand to notify me of an email.

Even though Henry told me to expect it, it still catches me by surprise. Digging through my carry-on bag, I retrieve the mailer that’s managed to sink its way to the bottom and click on the noti1cation.

From: [email protected]. com

To: [email protected]. com

Subject:    Put    your    headphones    on.

I broke rule number 4 too. Don’t tell the board.

H

Henry Turner has sent you a file.

Click here to retrieve it!

Password: openthepackage

I 1sh my headphones out of my bag, slowly nudging forward closer to the front of the line, and slide them over my ears. I’m holding my breath when I click the link, not knowing what to expect when it takes me to an online folder with a huge audio 1le in it.

My hands shake while I enter the password and click play, then immediately reach for the mailer. Nothing happens at 1rst, the sound of rustling and a bed frame squeak until I 1nally hear Henry’s voice.

“Halle Jacobs knew she wanted to be an author the first time she attended a

library-run author reading. Always daydreaming about people she imagined, Halle credits her mom for getting her her first library card and fueling her love of books, and a childhood obsession with The Sims for her overactive imagination. Jacobs is an English major at the University of California, Maple Hills, and lives in Maple Hills with her beloved cat, Joy.”

My hands pull at the sealed Rap, desperate to see what’s inside. Henry just read the author biography I wrote for myself for the competition, word for word. I have no idea how he even got it. Then his voice starts again.

“Halle Jacobs is sweet and kind, always doing what she can to be a good person

to others. She has a wide friend group of family, classmates, colleagues, and neighbors, who all agree that she’s one of the most giving and loving people they know. Outside of reading and writing, Jacobs is an excellent baker, a skill she inherited from her beloved grandmother. She is funny, beautiful, and smart.

“Jacobs has a boyfriend, whom she has made a better man in every single way, and he hopes he’ll be the love of her lifetime as they both evolve into the people they were always supposed to be together. It is also a widely known fact that Jacobs has the best ass in LA.”

Maybe there can be a long list of complimentary adjectives when someone talks about me.

When Henry talks about me.

I have no choice but to step out of the line with my bags. My heart is pounding, hands shaking as I pull at the envelope, frantically trying to get past what is apparently the world’s strongest adhesive.

It 1nally comes loose, just as Henry begins talking again.

“Chapter One…”

The book that comes out of the mailer isn’t one I recognize. The cover is hand painted; two people are lying in a meadow full of daisies. The sky is the dreamiest purple and pink and my name is right there beside them.

Turning the 1rst pages as Henry reads my words to me, I notice his tidy scribble on the title page.

This might be my favorite romance book, but we’re my favorite love story.

Yours always,

Henry

Each page I turn has more and more Henry between it. His art is sketched onto the pages, over my words, binding us together. Every drawing 1lls me with more and more life, and I don’t realize I’m crying until a tear drops onto the page and spreads across the ink.

As much as I don’t want to, I pause the audio. I have some calls to make.