Chapter 10 The dim glow of Chiltern Firehouse enveloped us as Beej, Henry, and I settled down for dinner. While the restaurant wasn’t exactly aligned with my recent obsession with organic food, I figured a little indulgence wouldn’t hurt. Besides, I had my eye on their exquisite celeriac dauphinoise, a dish I secretly adored. When I placed my order, I noticed Henry shift uncomfortably in his seat, exchanging a furtive glance with Beej that had me on high alert. Had they been conspiring about me? A wave of anxiety washed over me, and I instinctively added a radish and grapefruit salad to my order—though I wasn’t planning on eating it. The concept of a radish paired with grapefruit seemed fundamentally wrong, and I sensed that Beej held a similar opinion as the corner of his eyes crinkled upon my announcement. I brushed off his disapproving gaze, directing my attention to Henry. Across the table, he was fixated on a girl at the bar who sat next to Daniela. The sight didn’t fill me with joy; this wasn’t the Henry I preferred to see. “She’s pretty,” Beej remarked casually, slinging his arm around me with misplaced confidence. “Ask for her number.” I shot Beej a sharp look. “Don’t encourage him.” Henry rolled his eyes in exasperation. “I’m not going full Beej here—” “Right,” Beej interrupted with a grunt. “When’s that happening? Retirement?” “Never,” both Henry and I declared in unison just as Beej ordered another negroni. In that moment, I planted a kiss on Beej’s cheek, silently confessing my devotion. He traced a delicate heart on my upper thigh, a silent bonding ritual that felt so right. The atmosphere, however, shifted when Henry’s gaze sharpened. “Skipped out on the board meeting again,” he noted, a hint of disapproval in his tone. Beej sighed, waving the accusation away. “It was a courtesy invite.” Henry shot him an incredulous look. “It’s not just a courtesy—it’s your responsibility!” “Sure, but I’m not cut out for this,” Beej retorted dismissively. “It’s nepotism at its worst.” Henry shrugged defiantly. “It will be ours one day. Might as well pay attention.” I turned to Beej, concern lacing my voice. “Was your dad upset that you missed it?” He took a slow sip from his drink. “Yeah.” “You should have gone,” I prodded gently, giving him a playful poke. He shrugged, the air of helplessness surrounding him like a cloak. “I just don’t care about supermarket politics.” Henry scoffed at that, indignant. “Not just any supermarket—it’s the largest supermarket chain in Britain.” Beej shrunk back slightly, defensive. “What the hell are you talking about? You’ve never set foot in one.” “True,” I admitted, forcing a tight smile. “But I’d prefer that to be my forever reality. So for the love of all that’s decent, please attend those meetings on behalf of the only father either of us has left.” Beej fell silent, scratching his neck, clutching his drink. Suddenly, Henry froze, the tension around us palpable. “Oh my god,” he muttered, eyes widening as if he’d seen a ghost. “What?” I straightened in my seat, bracing myself for his anxiety. “Shit,” he gasped, eyes glued to the prawns on his plate. “What’s wrong?” Beej asked, his frown deepening. “Romilly’s here,” Henry blurted out, voice tinged with urgency. My neck whipped around at the mention of her name, my heart racing. Romilly Followill. The name sent a jolt through me—an unsettling mixture of history and unresolved emotions. Henry’s first love, a connection that lingered in the air even after the years had passed. I remembered the stories, the heartbreak after he drove her home, told her he loved her, only to have her family uproot and vanish, leaving him shattered and forever altered. I never truly understood how deep that attachment ran until now. “Go talk to her,” Henry insisted, nudging me with urgency, kicking my foot under the table. “What? Me?” I balked, incredulous. “You’ve got to be kidding.” “Yes, you!” He kicked me again, his desperation rising. “Go! Now.” “Why me? No!” I protested, stomping my foot. “You go! Don’t act like a baby.” “She was your friend!” he shot back, exasperated. “But she was your friend too!” I fired back, our circle of tension tightening like a noose. Henry’s eyes gleamed with a wild, desperate energy. “After all the grief you two put me through for years—years, Magnolia! Years!” His voice trailed off into a note of imploration. Beej nudged me with the elbow, prompting me to act, and I found myself standing, heading toward the striking figure that was Romilly. She sat there, the embodiment of memories wrapped in a new, polished exterior—big brown eyes, caramel skin, pink lips, and that aura of effortless beauty that often left a mark. “Erm—” I cleared my throat and shot the boys a venomous look. “Romilly?” Her eyes widened in surprise, and for a moment, she looked like she couldn’t quite believe what she was seeing. “Oh my god,” she finally exclaimed, blinking rapidly. “Magnolia.” “Hi,” I said, unsure how to navigate this unfamiliar territory. Her astonishment caught me off guard. “Hi!” she exclaimed, suddenly flinging her arms around me. I hated henry at that moment; I despised physical affection from anyone. But I couldn’t deny the warmth of her embrace. It felt oddly comforting in a world where everything felt uncertain. “How incredible to see you—” she gushed, stepping back to examine my outfit, her eyes sparkling with genuine admiration. “You look amazing. That outfit!” “Thank you!” I forced a smile, recalling the years and all the unspoken words between us. “Your hair, it’s lighter! I love it—” “Magnolia—” she sighed, tilting her head in a way that made me acutely aware of the lingering shadow of grief on both our shoulders. “I heard about Bridget. I’m so sorry. I—” “Thank you,” I cut in quickly, the words escaping like a reflex. It wasn’t fine, and it would never be fine, but I couldn’t crumble in front of her, not now. We hadn’t seen each other in years, and here we were, both poised on the edge of awkwardness. So, I focused on her shoes—lovely caramel brown patent-leather slingbacks—and took a deep breath. “Saint Laurent?” I remarked, hoping to shift the focus. She nodded, laughter bubbling to the surface. “You haven’t changed.” “Neither have you,” I replied, forcing a grin. “So, you’re in London?” “I am,” she confirmed, a flicker of excitement dancing across her features. “I’m back.” And just like that, my heart sank. I could almost feel Henry’s shockwaves emanating from a distance. The storm was brewing, and I had unwittingly stepped into its eye. “Is this your boyfriend?” I gestured toward the dashing man standing beside her, taking in his aura and the way he had that charming, easy confidence about him. “No!” she laughed, shaking her head. “This is my brother—” “Cassius!” He turned at the call, his tall figure towering over us. “Oh my god, you’re huge!” I exclaimed, momentarily forgetting my trepidation. “Six foot five,” he answered, his voice draped in an accent that blended American and British. And then he studied me, giving off that unmistakable bad-boy charm. I felt my cheeks flush slightly under his gaze. “Wow, I always thought you were—well, you know—but... wow.” His gaze lingered, the flicker of intrigue lighting up his eyes. Romilly shot him an incredulous look. I was about to respond when Beej inserted himself into our reunion, slinging an arm around my shoulder, clearly taking charge of the moment. “Hey, man—” he greeted Cassius, raising his voice just enough to break the tension. “Ballentine!” Cassius grinned, shaking Beej’s hand. “Been a long time, bro—” Beej turned to Romilly, his face lighting up with genuine warmth that was not lost on me. “Rom.” He leaned down to kiss her cheek, and I could see the immediate fluster spread across her face as memories washed over. Henry, who had been quietly observing, now approached, his own heart racing. The moment felt electric as their eyes met, a torrent of past feelings surging to the surface. It was as if time had folded back on itself, and suddenly we were not in a restaurant, but in a memory spun from nostalgia and unspoken confessions. “Hey,” Henry finally managed, his voice a whisper of vulnerability. “Hey,” Romilly replied softly. They exchanged a glance filled with memories—both longing and regret—with seconds ticking painfully in the shared silence. Beej nudged Henry with palpable impatience. “You’re back?” Henry finally pressed, his voice thick with unfiltered yearning. Romilly nodded, a blush gracing her cheeks. “Yeah, I’m back.” “For good?” The eagerness broke through Henry’s facade, displaying the raw hope that flickered within him. “Yes,” she replied, with minor affirmation. Yet still, silence befell them like the hush that graces a room just before a storm. My eyes darted over to Beej, confusion mingling with the palpable tension. What now? “Um,” I spoke up, trying to pull the conversation from its dizzying loop. “Do you want to sit down with us?” “Actually,” Cassius interjected, giving his sister a teasing grin. “There’s a girl I’m supposed to meet over there.” He motioned toward the crowd, giving Romilly a brotherly nudge. With that, he wandered off, leaving Henry and Romilly stranded in an ocean of history. I pointed toward the table, a silent command for Henry to follow, and Beej gave his brother a gentle push. “Can’t believe it,” Romilly remarked as she sat, her attention still riveted to Henry. “How long’s it been?” Henry asked, his eyes sparkling with a blend of curiosity and apprehension. “Um—seven? Eight? Eight years,” she replied, her words weighed down by unspoken complexities. Henry’s gaze dropped as if mourning the time lost, his inner turmoil laid bare for all to see. I could almost feel the tightness creeping into the space around us, an uninvited guest at this reunion of old friends. “Eight,” he murmured, disbelief etched into his features. “It’s hard to believe.” They stood there in their bubble of connection, oblivious to the rest of us in that moment, lost in each other's eyes. It dawned on me how incomprehensibly tender such moments could be—years spent apart dissolving in seconds, illuminating the bittersweet nature of nostalgia. “Say something,” Beej whispered fiercely, his urgency cutting through the tension. “Make it stop, make it stop.” I coughed awkwardly, desperate to bridge the gap that felt insurmountable. “So…” I picked up the bread basket on the table, rattling it between them to jolt them out of their reverie. Henry shot me a glare, but Beej burst into laughter, relieving the heavy air. “Um,” I continued, struggling to find my footing. “America.” “Right,” Romilly nodded, tucking her hair behind her ears as she cast a quick glance at Henry. “You had a stint there, didn’t you?” “Yeah,” I nodded. “I did.” “I heard you two broke up for a while—” she remarked cautiously, her eyes flicking between us. “Well, as you might have heard, BJ had a little affair with Paili, so—” “Why-—wow—didn’t know that. Damn,” Romilly interjected, surprise etched in her features. I caught Beej’s eye, a small smirk on my lips while his expression morphed into feigned annoyance. “Thanks for that, Magnolia.” I continued, “Paili? Shit. Are you—” “I mean,” I waved my hand dismissively, “she and I aren’t—” “Dead to us,” Henry added, nodding with feigned nonchalance. “But we—” I gestured airily between Beej and myself, my smile bright. “We’re fine.” Henry shot us a glare. “Only took you two nine hundred years—” “Worth it though,” Beej chimed, casting me a knowing look that brightened my spirits. “What part of America were you in?” I asked Romilly, acutely aware of the romantic energy that whirled around us. “California,” she replied, her eyes sparkling with the memory. “Laguna, mostly.” “Right,” I nodded, recalling sunny beaches and carefree summers. “You were in New York, right?” “Correct,” she confirmed. “You were dating that sexy blonde one, weren’t you?” she asked, her smile teasing as she probed our past. Henry shifted awkwardly. “We weren’t dating-dating,” I clarified, but the words hung heavy in the air. “Definitely dating!” he roared, followed closely by Beej’s resounding, “So fucking dating!” Both focused their energy on me, and I challenged them with a pointed glare. “Right—” I sighed, returning my gaze to Romilly. “So what was your least favorite part about America?” “The tampons,” she blurted without a moment’s hesitation. My head rolled back in playful despair. “The tampons!” “Awful,” she nodded vigorously, echoing my own frustrations. “Why?” Beej asked, clearly intrigued. I leaned in, hoping for camaraderie. “I can’t be entirely certain, but those tampons feel like they were designed by a clueless virgin male.” Henry pinched his brows together, visibly perplexed. “How’s that now?” Romilly tilted her head, amused. “It’s almost as though they don’t so much expand upon contact with a liquid as much as they unfold. Like Japanese room dividers.” Henry visibly recoiled, shocked. “Why?” “Why indeed! It’s as if they want you to leak all over your ribbed knit minidress from Balmain, or that the designers have never seen a uterus, nor do they care about hygiene,” I declared, shrugging with a playful flourish. Henry sputtered over his water while Romilly let out a laugh that brightened the room. “Oh,” Romilly suddenly regarded Beej with raised eyebrows. “Have you peered into many uteri then?” “No,” I shook my head in mock seriousness. “Just poked around in several hundred.” Beej rolled his eyes, and Henry started to smile—a hesitant, warm flicker as if the shadows of the past were lifting momentarily. “No, I—” Beej chuckled, looking from me to Romilly, his eyebrows lofty with surprise. “I’m definitely not—” “I feel like you are,” I insisted, teasingly. Romilly’s expression turned slightly impressed. “Mazel tov.” “Thank you,” I replied, feigning regal grace with my nose in the air. “I’m not—” Beej interrupted, but Henry was already shaking his head. “God, who taught you about sex?” I pointed to him eagerly. “You!” “Nope,” he denied, shaking his head vehemently. “We just did it a bunch. Never talked about it—” I leaned closer, playing it up. “No wonder we got pregnant.” His laughter washed over me, warm and familiar. I saw the happiness stitch itself across his face like a comforting blanket I could wrap myself in. “God,” Romilly mused, gazing incredulously at us. “It’s like nothing’s changed.” “Actually,” I interrupted, taking a sip of my drink, “very much has changed.” “Yeah, well—” she grimaced. “I guess that figures.” “Do you know what?” I asked, sensing the conversation shifting again. “What?” Henry prompted, though I wasn’t sure she was still addressing him. “I always thought Paili might have fancied you,” she blurted out, mischievous eyes locking onto Beej’s. His immediate nod caught both Romilly and me by surprise. “Yeah,” he replied, wearing an uncomfortable smile, and the two of us stiffened. Despite my efforts, the tension swelled. I was acutely aware of how this conversation labyrinth amounted to a minefield. “I mean, she said something once,” Romilly began, holding my gaze. “That night—the party at your house in Dartmouth—you kicked us out of the room, remember? Me and her.” Bj nodded, silently reliving the memory. “Well, on the way down the stairs, she said something like, ‘What do you think it is about her?’ And I was like, ‘What?’” She paused, searching for the right words. “And she said, ‘What do you think it is about her that he loves?’ And I sort of shrugged it off.” She glanced away apprehensively, biting her lip. “Anyway, just a passing thought—I always wondered if…” Beej squeezed my hand under the table, squeezing life back into me. “What do you think?” I echoed back, forcing out the inquiry. Henry shifted uncomfortably, and I could sense the mood ebbing and flowing around us like a tide that wouldn’t settle. “Anyway, you’d be glad you left, Rom,” Henry briskly said, redirecting the conversation to a murky pool. “They were a disaster—” “Easy there, champ—” Beej chimed in, motioning to Henry. “Wanna catch her up on your love life lately?” Henry shot him a sharp look. “No, not really.” “Ooh,” I prodded, turning back to Romilly. “Catch her up!” Henry sighed dramatically. “Do you remember Taura Sax?” he eventually asked, shifting the weight of the conversation. “Yeah,” Romilly’s eyes widened. “Really striking, funny. Lots of daddy issues…” “Yeah, but—” I shrugged. “Who doesn’t have those?” “I just kind of fell in love with her,” he admitted quietly, a tender vulnerability in his admission. Romilly blinked, surprised. “Just kind of?" “Mm-hm,” he replied, a slight nod signaling the truth of the matter. Her face shifted, revealing an emotional disturbance as the walls around them crashed down. “I mean, I get it,” she replied, and I recognized the crack in their past, the unspoken tension tethered in the air. “She fell for you around the same time Jonah did,” Beej plunged in, reading the room like a book. Romilly’s expression twisted in discomfort. “That’s so awful.” Henry merely shrugged. “It’s fine?” “Is it?” she queried, eyebrows raised. He shrugged again, tilting head. “We’re done.” “I’m sorry,” she said softly, her voice laced with empathy. “No—don’t be,” he assured, staring at her with sincerity. “I’m happier now.” Their shared gaze ignited a surge of hope in the room; it was beautiful, tragic, and heartbreaking all at once. I glimpsed a flicker of melancholy in Henry’s eyes, an understanding that dawned upon him, and I couldn’t shake the sense of wonder I felt. In that moment, a realization hit—he might actually find redemption in this reconnection. And before I could latch onto that hope, my mind drifted back to Taura, weaving her way through the fabric of our past. This dance with time would prove to be fragile—a bittersweet harmony in a world imploding with nostalgia.