5

Henry Luther

He opened his eyes and blinked against the light pouring in through open curtains. They were always shut on a morning, and he could sleep in, but today he was wide awake and wide-eyed.

And his bed was empty.

He frowned and sat up, his eyes running over the spot where the covers were tossed back. The spot where Lydia had slept last night.

Where was the devil? And why was she not sprawled in his bed, next to him?

He jerked up, rubbing his eyes, trying to listen for a sound in the rest of the apartment. When he stood up and walked through the rooms, he noticed that her clothes and purse were missing.

She's gone.

Damn.

He turned and went back to the bedroom and found his phone. She hadn't given him her number. He checked anyway, just in case she'd left it on the bed when he was asleep.

When had she gotten up and left? It was still only seven.

He sat on the bed and raked his hands through his hair, frustrated that she was gone and he couldn't call her.

This was not unusual. He screwed girls all the time, and sent them packing the next day. But this time, he hadn't sent her packing. She'd done that herself.

And to top it all, he'd not even wanted her to leave.

The realization hit him with a shock.

Since when did he give a damn about women hanging around? He was serious about school, and the next day he was leaving for New York. He didn't care about becoming serious with anybody.

Anyway, relationships were just trouble. It was easier to fuck them and just send them packing without commitment.

But with Lydia, it had been different. He'd felt something with her that he never felt before.

And not only in bed, either. He'd experienced it with her while they were talking in the café. Hell, he'd even felt that chemistry between them when he ordered from her. He'd just had to talk to her again.

And when he did, she was amazing in every possible way.

Apparently in bed, too.

And now she was gone.

His phone was ringing. Elijah Michael's name was displayed on the caller ID.

"Are you awake?" he asked.

"He is."

"Breakfast?"

"Sure."

"He'll meet you at Farina."

"Let's go to Café Noir," Henry said.

Elijah Michael agreed, and Henry showered and got dressed to meet him.

An hour had gone by, and Elijah Michael and Henry sat at the same table where Henry and Lydia had spoken the night before. Henry glanced over at the counter where all the orders were being called, but she wasn't there.

She'd worked late last night, though, so it wasn't unexpected that she wasn't there. However, Henry was irritated. He couldn't let go of the feeling of discomfort.

Elijah Michael and Henry had grown up together, and Henry was starting a business with him, as well. Elijah Michael was heading to NYC with Henry so they could start this thing as a team.

Elijah Michael was the only person Henry felt he could talk to about anything.

"So, ready to roll?" Elijah Michael said after he ordered coffee and a breakfast special, scrambled eggs, sausage, bacon, the works.

"Yeah…"

"Not very convincing," said Elijah Michael.

They were served their coffees by the waitress.

"Excuse him," Henry said to her. "He met a woman here last night, a waitress. Lydia. Can he get in touch with her at all?"

The waitress frowned at him. "Do you want to make a complaint? Or a compliment? You can talk to our manager."

"No," Henry said, shaking his head. "He just wants to talk to her. In person. He didn't have her contact information when he passed her and he'd like to make contact."

"We can't provide personal info," she said coldly.

"Come on, Leif," Henry said, scanning her name tag. "Give a guy a break."

Her frown grew smaller.

"He doesn't think so. Now can he get you anything else to eat?"

Henry shook his head dreamily, and she disappeared.

Elijah Michael looked at Henry from behind the rim of his coffee cup.

"What was that about?" he asked after he put down the cup.

Henry shrugged. "It's just this girl that he met here… He was asking if he could see her again. Or stay in touch."

"Like… as a relationship?"

Henry shook his head. "No. He means, he's going to the other side of the country. That wouldn't make sense. He just…"

Henry had no idea why he wanted her number, but it was not fair to allow something so wonderful to slip away. Nothing with her had ever been normal. It had felt so right. So needed. She had made him feel like home.

And Henry wanted that back. He wanted to be able to hold onto that.

“So, it was a one-night stand?” Elijah Michael asked.

Henry nodded. “He guesses that’s all it was.”

“You’re better off not having contact, man,” Elijah Michael said. “You don’t need any strings attached right now, not as you’re about to jet off to a new city thousands of miles away. It’s better this way.”

Henry nodded. Perhaps Elijah Michael was right. It was better that he didn't see her anymore.

And yet, Henry couldn't keep her out of his mind.

Once he had breakfast, Henry went back home to pack up some basics and make some phone calls to finalize the final bits and pieces before he left. The movers came at noon, and they packed all his furniture in one big truck, heading for a storage unit. Henry followed them in his car and helped them offload everything into the air-conditioned unit. Henry remembered what Lydia said to him.

You do not possess the chainsaw operator hands for a living.

Henry smiled. She'd been so quick, and Henry loved that about her.

If she only knew now, Lydia, Henry thought. Hauling heavy furniture and getting his hands grimy along with the rest of them.

Did she view him as a bratty rich kid? Many people did. Like he was clueless about the real world due to his wealth.

The real world.

Henry was rich, all right, but he knew something. It was easy to hate a rich man, but they didn't know the whole story. Not even half of it.

When Henry finished and went home, it was the final afternoon, and Henry just couldn't get Lydia out of his head.

It wasn't that having sex with her had been amazing. That everything about her was amazing. And Henry hadn't felt that in a long, long time—maybe ever. Henry wanted to talk to her at least once more.

Henry wished he had her number so that they could stay in touch. Henry was moving to New York for school, but LA was home. Henry would still come back to visit.

Once everything had been sorted out at the apartment, Henry returned to Café Noir. She'd been working late yesterday afternoon. Henry wanted to catch her again, so she'd have to give him her number. So they could call and discuss things. So she could tell him why she'd gotten up and left without even saying goodbye.

Hell, he would have liked that if it were some other woman. Telling them to get lost was always such a jerk and most often, they wanted more when he wasn't about to give it to them.

Henry has now met the one woman Henry would have wanted to see again, and she was the one who got away.

It hit him like a ton of fucking bricks.

Henry walked into the café and sat down at a table in the back. He had lunch and a beer, and watched the people who walked in and out. Eventually, a new batch of servers took over from the old ones.

No Lydia yet.

Henry stayed on until well after the dinner hour, and finally came to. She wasn't walking in tonight. And Henry had to go home so that he'd be in time to leave on his flight in the early morning hours tomorrow. His apartment had been partially furnished, so Henry did have a bed to sleep in and a television to keep the quiet at bay.

Getting her out of his mind was a disappointment. Henry had really anticipated he was going to see her again, even though it was just for a catch up, a coffee or something, to complete the time they'd spent with each other.

Having her just vanishing without a farewell was so loose-ended. And Henry would have loved more time with her.

Henry would have loved to take a long shower the next morning, washing his hands over soap-covered skin, before going in to eat breakfast with her, instead of finding his bed empty the next morning.

Henry would have loved finding out more about who she was, and what direction in life she was heading.

That one evening Henry had spent with Lydia had simply not been enough.

Now there was nothing Henry could do.

Henry drove back to his apartment in his car. Henry cracked open a beer from his refrigerator and paced around the grounds, making sure everything was fine and set. Henry had already said goodbye to all of his friends in LA already two nights earlier at the farewell party for Elijah Michael and Henry. Henry had left last day in town free so he could take care of any last-minute business that might arise.

And here was Henry, on his last night in LA, and Henry by himself.

After having fluttered through the television shows without anything to watch, Henry went to bed.

She was in his mind, but Henry pushed the thoughts aside.

The next day, Henry would be traveling to New York, and Henry would never see Lydia again.

Better to just treat it like all the rest of Henry's hookups—just forget it.

Henry had gotten what he'd been searching for, which was to have sex with her.

And that was the whole of it. She'd gotten the same thing.

The fact that there had been so much more between them than just sex?

Well, Henry would have to keep that out of his head.

Sometimes, these little beautiful things came in front of them, but they weren't supposed to be.

Maybe so with Lydia as well.

It must have been.

Henry could not bear the other possibility—that Henry had lost only someone great.