‘I heard you were good, but now it looks like that was all bullshit.’”
“That wasn’t very nice.”
Henry shrugged. “I was giving in to the pressure from every avenue, so I made a decision that I was going to play for myself. Not for Gordon or for the crowd. Just for myself.”
“Did that work?” Astrid asked.
“Yes, it did. My playing started improving and eventually I was made captain.”
“Good job,” she said.
“I used that same theory off the pitch. I live my life on my terms.”
“I’m trying to do the same, but there is always a fear—”
“Stop worrying, Astrid.”
He glanced over her shoulder and stood to greet someone else—a tall dark-haired young man whose shaggy hair reached his shoulders.
“I’m Bryan Monroe. I represent XSU.”
“Glad to meet you. This is Astrid, my assistant. Would you like to sit down and join us for a drink?”
“Love to.”
Astrid sank back into her seat and just observed Henry doing his thing. People came and went from his table, which was the norm for Henry, but he kept his attention on everyone. He always had a glass of seltzer water on the table in front of him. She’d quickly realized that her boss didn’t drink on these long nights out. And he had a work ethic that would put anyone to shame.
Daniel had often used other people to make things happen. She had observed him leaving clubs early with groupies while his underlings stayed and talked details. Every minute she spent with Henry made her like him a little more.
She started to get tired and fought to keep from yawning at about two in the morning. She signaled to Henry that she was going to leave.
“Wait for me,” he said to her.
Thirty minutes later, they walked out of the club together. “I think we’re going to get XSU.”
“Definitely. Bryan sounded very encouraging. I’ll follow up with him first thing tomorrow.”
“I’ll give you a ride home,” Henry said.
“Not necessary. I drove Bethann’s car today.”
“Why?”
“I didn’t want to take advantage of you. I appreciate the fact that you are always giving me a ride but it seemed important to have my own way home.”
“Why is that?” he asked.
“Because I always want to invite you up to my place and that’s not a good idea, is it?”
Astrid didn’t regret her candor. They both knew the attraction between them was growing. There was nothing they could do about it.
“I think inviting me up is a fine idea. Why haven’t you?”
“Because you’re my boss, Henry,” she said. The night breeze was cool and a little crisp as she tipped her head back to stare up at the stars.
“Why is your name Henry?”
He laughed a soft sound. “It was my mum’s dad’s name. What about you, Astrid?”
“My mother got it from a book. Bethann was named after my mum’s mum and me…I get a name from a book,” she said.
“What book?”
“Pippi Longstocking. The author was Astrid Lindgren. My mum said she wanted me to have that passion for life that Pippi always had.”
Astrid looked back over at Henry to find him watching her with that unreadable expression of his. She was talking too much, she knew, but she was tired. Physically of course, because her body had yet to adjust to the night owl hours, but also tired of keeping parts of herself from Henry. She wanted him to know the woman she was. Wanted him to look at her and see the real woman.
“I like that. Your mum sounds like she knew what she was doing when she named you,” Henry said.
Astrid wasn’t certain about that. A part of her had always felt as though she had to live a larger life than her sister. Bethann was driven and always made the right choices. She had achieved more and accomplished great things, as opposed to Astrid, who was always starting over.
“I’m not so sure. But I do like where I am right now,” she said.
Henry grabbed her hand, linking their fingers together as they walked down the street to where he’d parked his car.
“Have you ever thought about what you’d name your children?”
Astrid felt a sting of tears at his question. And turned away from him.
“Astrid?”
She shook her head. “Probably after my parents. You?”
“I’ve always thought I’d name a son after Jonny Wilkinson, the great rugby player.”
“Better hope your wife likes the sport,” she said. She tried to keep her tone light, but she knew that children was never going to be an easy topic for her.…How had they taken this track?
* * *
Henry didn’t want to talk about kids; he’d never really thought much about them other than when his mum had given birth to his two younger half brothers. But there was a tone in Astrid’s voice that made him believe he should pursue this line. There was something more to the way she had answered his throwaway question.
“What are your parents’ names?” he asked.
“Spencer and Mary,” she said. “I really don’t want to talk about this. I’m not even sure how we ended up on this topic.”
He unlocked the passenger door of his car and helped her inside. He walked around to the driver’s side and sat behind the wheel for a minute before starting it.
“My mum contemplated naming me Mick after Mick Jagger, but in the end she said she wanted to name me after the man who always loved her.”
“That’s sweet,” Astrid said. She had to wonder how hard it was on Henry growing up the way he had. “Why did you play rugby? Wouldn’t it have been easier for you to try to be a musician?”
Then she covered her mouth with one hand as a thought occurred to her. “Or can’t you sing?”
“I can sing,” Henry said. “Not very well, but I can sing.”
“So why not music?”
“I’m a stubborn cuss,” he said, starting the car. “I didn’t want anyone to say I had anything given to me. I started playing rugby when I was eight. I’d already grown up in the glare of my mum’s spotlight and the infamous
