The Will(130)

His expression didn’t change. Not even a hint.

“You’re a millionaire, Josephine, and the severance package is fair.”

“I believe a severance package of a month’s wages for every year I’ve worked for you is more fair, Henry,” I returned, simply to be vexing mostly because he was vexing me.

“Then I’ll ask Daniel to change the amount and the wording in the paperwork,” Henry replied instantly.

That was when I felt the shot to the heart. The pierce of the arrow so excruciating it was a wonder I didn’t stagger back.

Wounded pride. Again.

But this time, the return arrow was directed at me.

“And this is it?” I asked.

“This is it,” he confirmed.

“Twenty-three years at your side and you hand me as much money as I ask for and walk away.”

He didn’t delay even a moment with his response.

“Yes.”

For the third time that day, tears stung my eyes but they weren’t good tears, overwhelmed by emotion of hearing a lovely story about a lovely woman or the gentle words from a man I was growing to feel very deeply about.

These were bad tears, overwhelmed by the emotions of loss and betrayal.

“Tears are hardly necessary, Josephine,” Henry said dismissively. “We were simply photographer and assistant.”

“Outside of Gran, for twenty-three years, you were the only real thing I had.”

The mask again slipped but he got it back in place swiftly.

But he said nothing.

I did.

“I’ve hurt you and done that simply by realizing the possibility I might find happiness and reaching for it and you strike back like this?”

“I’m uncertain what kind of happiness you can find with a small town strip club owner in the middle of nowhere in Maine but if that’s what you want, Josephine, you now have a clear shot.”

He was giving me a clear shot.

A clear shot by taking himself away.

“My first living memory is my father slamming my mother’s head against the kitchen floor.”

It came out as blunt and ugly as it was. And when it hit him, the mask disintegrated and Henry flinched so severely, his head jerked back with it.

“Some time later, she left us, never to return. Some time after that, when he discovered I was dating a boy without his permission, he beat me so badly I was in the hospital for a week.”

Another wince and, “Josephine—”

“Gran saved me from that. I managed to become normal again. I went to college. Fell in love. He was controlling, this was true, but he was handsome and he cared about me. I thought. Until the first time he beat me. I fell down a flight of stairs and broke my shoulder. I came back to Gran after that too.”

His hand came out but I took a step away.

“Did you ever wonder why I was so remote, Henry?”

“Honey—”

“Did you ever think to ask?”

“Jo—”

“No. You didn’t. I was so in love with you when we first started working together, every day held pain. But it was put up with the pain or lose one of only two people in my life I cared about and respected. So I put up with the pain.”

His face had blanched. “You were in love with me?”

“Head over heels.”

His voice was aching when he whispered, “Sweetheart—”

“To find you were the same and you didn’t even ask why I was protecting myself. Why I was aloof. Why I was disconnected. Didn’t even attempt to find a way in. I never thought for one moment you returned those feelings because…because…I don’t know why you did it but you never, not once, gave me any indication that you felt that way for me. You gave many other women that indication, right in front of me, but never me.”

“I showed you all the time, Josephine,” he said gently.

“No.” I shook my head. “Jake did. He knew all that about me and he knew he had to proceed with caution but the point is he realized he liked me, he was attracted to me and he proceeded.”

“I’m afraid he had an unfair advantage, honey, because I didn’t know any of this shit,” Henry pointed out.

“You…didn’t”—I leaned in— “ask,” I hissed and I leaned back. “Two decades and you didn’t ask, Henry?”

“How was I to know there was something to ask about, Josephine?”

“If you love someone, you want to know everything. You want to heal all hurts. You want to be there for them when they need you. You just want to be with them all the time.”

“Are you saying you’re in love with a man you’ve known two weeks?”

“No, Henry. I’m saying that’s what I gave you for twenty-three years.”

I watched him flinch again. He knew it was true. Every word of it.

He recovered and inquired, “How do you press something like that with someone you employ? Someone that matters. Someone that, if you don’t get it right, you could lose and you know you can’t lose.”

“I don’t know. Maybe you do it because it’s worth the risk of whatever might become of it.”

“I’ll remind you, sweetheart, you felt the same way and you didn’t take that risk either,” he said softly.