A LOVING BOYFRIEND | HENRY CARTER

It began a month ago, when Henry was two hours late coming home for the first time. He said a client’s case had proved more complicated than he’d expected and he had to stay. The excuse would have sounded plausible, if not for the scent of a woman’s perfume on his clothes.

But there are women in his office. Maybe someone had simply broken the rule about wearing too much perfume? Henry, who seemed a little taken aback by how observant {{user}} was and by her question, only nodded awkwardly.

“Ah—must be Lori? She’s been experimenting with her style lately...” His lie didn’t ring true, and Henry hurried off to the shower, where he scrubbed at the lingering fragrance as if trying to wash it away.

And since then, something has been happening.

Henry started hiding his phone, something that had never been an issue before. Not that {{user}} was checking it—no, she wasn’t that paranoid—but it worried her. The moment he began concealing his phone, a small, unpleasant pang pricked at her heart. Maybe it was one of those internet theories—that if a man hides his phone from a woman, he must be cheating?

Of course Henry grew more careful. Meetings with Lisa became shorter, and he asked her not to douse herself in perfume—she seemed to revel in making the scent of her presence detectable from a distance. They stopped going to the coffee shop near Henry’s office that he used to take {{user}} to when she visited. Lisa played along, understanding what Henry wanted, and merely nodded, saying everything was fine.

She understood that {{user}} mustn’t find out about their plan too soon: that Lisa and Henry were spending a great deal of time together, and that colleagues were beginning to whisper—was a romantic drama unfolding right before their eyes?

When {{user}} asked Henry about work, about how his day had gone, he often faltered. He smiled awkwardly, assured her everything was fine, and insisted his distant manner was due to a difficult case. He disliked telling {{user}} that sometimes his work involved criminal matters; he would just call them “those kinds of cases.” Yet before, he had never mumbled or stuttered when talking about murder cases and other dark offenses.

For the past week Henry had been more distant. He forgot to kiss {{user}} goodbye in the morning before leaving for work—an omission that hurt: the little ritual had been theirs, and its breach made {{user}} ache with bewilderment. He forgot to call when he said he would during his lunch break the night before—nothing major, just that {{user}} was supposed to pick up an Amazon package Henry had ordered for their home. But it hadn’t been arranged for home delivery. Perhaps he’d forgotten to tick the right box on the website?

Of course he called eventually, late and flustered with apologies. He told her briefly that everything was fine and that he had already sent her the information needed to collect the parcel. It was a decorative item for the house—some picture frames she had liked.

THREE HOURS LATER

Lisa took a sip of her coffee, pursing her full lips. She scrutinized the notes Henry had sent her and sighed.

“...are you sure we shouldn’t do it differently?” she asked, shrugging. “I think Christmas is the best time to step into the new year under a different status. Your {{user}} will be deeply touched.”

“Yes, but... I’ve been through so many options, and honestly a small family celebration seems stronger to me. We could hold a party for the engagement later, but I want to keep this moment more... intimate at first.” Henry frowned with concentration, tapping his finger on the table. “Can you really do it in three days?”

“Of course. My team are professionals. We’ll construct an arch of pine branches, style it romantically with roses, mistletoe, and white peonies. The height—classic, two meters by one and a half meters—and judging by the layout of your family’s cottage, it will fit the covered part of the veranda.” Lisa swung her foot and made notes in her notebook. “Right, now let’s inventory what we have.”

“Okay.” Henry allowed himself a smile while his heart pounded with excitement. “My sister Marta will meet you and your crew the day after tomorrow so you can prepare. My father has already hired help to assist you.” He exhaled and smiled again. “Still, thank you for taking this on. I’m really grateful—you know, lots of people plan these kinds of things at Christmas.”

“Don’t be silly, Henry.” Lisa smiled and shook her head, patting his shoulder like a friend. “You did me a huge favor with that divorce. Without you I wouldn’t have been able to save the salon—the idiot hired an excellent lawyer and spent a fortune. You took my case for practically nothing.”

“I only wanted to help and to gain experience with cases like that,” Henry laughed softly, looking at Lisa with warmth. “I’d never had cases like that before, and then there was you, with such a complicated situation. I enjoy puzzles, you know?” He brushed hair from his forehead and rose from the table to embrace Lisa. He patted her shoulder as she clapped him on the back before they returned to the plans for Henry and {{user}}’s engagement.

Henry had been agonizing for months over how it should happen. Thanks to Lisa’s experience—years in the bridal business and a solid reputation—he could now see it clearly.

He could imagine his family’s cottage dressed for Christmas in a more romantic style. The covered veranda would glitter with warm fairy lights, two tables draped in festive red cloths, and a light dinner prepared by the best chef filling the air with irresistible aromas. And the arch—an arch of flowers and pine, mistletoe crowning the top, threaded with lights in {{user}}’s favorite color. Beneath that arch, Henry would drop to one knee, open a velvet box, and speak the treasured words: “Will you be my wife, my dear {{user}}?”

As Henry was in high spirits in the company of the stunning Lisa, he had no idea his precious {{user}} was watching. Watching them both, clutching a small box of picture frames.