“I meant that white stuff…” Grayson raised his forefinger and ran it over my forehead. I’d forgotten all about Florence’s calendula cream. I wiped my face with the back of my hand.
“You’re not in the least ugly, Liv, just rather blotchy in the face—and like you’d been crying your eyes out.” Grayson looked at me seriously. “As for Henry … I’ve no idea what’s been going on between you two, but I’ve never seen him so distraught.”
Distraught? I doubted whether he needed calendula cream himself.
“What are you two getting up to in your dreams?” Grayson suddenly sounded angry. “Why don’t you simply stop it and concentrate on real life? Heaven knows that’s complicated enough.”
“You’ll have to ask Henry that question.” I let myself drop facedown on my bed. “Anyway, what you feel in dreams is just as real.” Unfortunately. And sure enough I started crying again. Oh, shit.
“One more reason to keep away from them.”
I’d buried my face in my pillows, but I could hear Grayson coming closer. He hesitantly sat down on the edge of my bed.
“Whatever happened between you is your business,” he said, and his tone of voice was considerably gentler now. “But I do know one thing: Henry would never hurt you, Liv.”
Oh, wouldn’t he? He just did. I stifled a sob in my pillow.
“I promise you that’s true,” said Grayson, a little more firmly. “I’ve known him since we first went to school, and since he met you … he’s been entirely different.”
I sat up abruptly. “Oh yes? Different how?”
A shadow fell on Grayson’s face. “It’s difficult to explain that to you.”
I wrinkled my nose angrily. “But an explanation would be really helpful,” I said. I’d meant to say that with an undertone of sarcasm, but it came out as a pathetic plea.
Grayson looked as if he’d rather be somewhere else. “Henry…” He hesitated again. “Henry’s had … quite a few girlfriends before, okay?”
Yes. Well. Good explanation. No doubt preferring older girlfriends who looked fantastic in whirlpools. If that was the best Grayson could do to cheer me up, I ought to have tried the bathroom tiles.
“But none of them ever lasted for long. And it was all superficial,” said Grayson hastily. He had guilt all over his face. “Henry never let anyone get really close to him, but it’s not like that with you. He’s different. He’s…” Grayson paused for a moment. “He’s kind of himself with you. Happy.”
This conversation was clearly going in the wrong direction.
I shook my head. “Happy? So what about the—” I stopped short. I couldn’t bring myself to tell Grayson about the naked mermaid. Even if he was with me, Henry obviously couldn’t leave her alone. That was simply too humiliating. “Yes, sure, and because he’s so happy he also tells me everything about his life!” I said instead.
“Liv…”
“It’s true. Even Emily knows more about him than I do.”
Grayson stood up and wandered over to the window. Only now did I notice that for a change he was wearing a T-shirt tonight. “Henry’s never talked about himself much, not even to Arthur and me. He’d sooner bite his tongue off. It’s just that over the years we’ve inevitably picked up this or that.”
“Like what, for instance?” I asked.
Grayson’s face was working. He turned back to the window and acted as if he were looking out. “At his eighth birthday party, we all had to leave early when his mother staggered into the living room and started cutting her wrists instead of the birthday cake. Because Henry’s father was having a relationship with the Swedish au pair. His thirteenth birthday was a total washout. That was when his mother went missing for a whole week, and Henry was left alone at home with Amy, who was four months old, and little Milo, while his father was sailing around the Mediterranean on a yacht and couldn’t be reached. He never could be reached when Henry really needed him. I can’t count the times Henry’s been late for school or for practice because he had to deal with some crisis at home.…”
Grayson had been talking fast and in a strained voice, as if what he was saying hurt him physically, and I felt the same. All this was much, much worse than I’d thought.
And yet, while the ghastly images of Henry’s family life that he was revealing made my heart heavy with pity, I knew they didn’t alter one fact: Henry had been in the process of deceiving me with someone else, and that hurt as much as ever. Except that to make matters even worse, I also felt I was being coldhearted and selfish because, although poor Henry had enough to put up with, what with his totally screwed-up family, I couldn’t forgive him for getting in the whirlpool with a naked woman.
I heard a miserable sound, and for a moment I thought Spot was back. That was before I realized that I’d made the sound myself.