Chapter 23

DISCLAIMER:  All copyrights reserved. No infringement intended. Bex, her friends and the plot line are mine.  This one is...95% fiction. Some events happened. 

I'm sorry it took so long to post this chapter. Adulting sucks. Started a full-time job a little over a year ago and it's sucking the life out of me. I'm trying y'all. It's pissing down rain. I'm hopped up on butterfly gummies and coffee.  I hope you enjoy this one. Just a little...filler maybe? So...

I Got You Babe

Chapter 23

Smiling to myself, I watch as Uncle Mick gives Harry one of those “manly hugs”; a handshake with a few hard pats on the back.  

“Make sure the lass gets home safe,” he says giving him one more pat on the back before Harry holds the door open for us.

“I will, Sir.”

“None of that...you can call me Uncle Mick.” He smiles and winks at me. “Goodnight, Bex.”

“Night!  Thanks for tonight,” I wave as I pass Harry.

My very responsible pop star had stopped drinking after his chat with Gus. He was now my designated driver. Emily opted to ride with Gray and Vik home. Under the watchful eye of Mick and Gus, Harry opens the passenger side door of Doc’s Maxima.

“Thank you,” I kiss his cheek quickly and slip into the seat. I watch as he walks around the car, checking for traffic before he gets in.  

“Alright, Love,” he smiles leaning his head against the headrest as he looks at me, “we have two choices.”

“And what would those be, Mr. Styles?” I smile coyly at him.

“I can take you home...”

“Or?”

“We can find the nearest five star hotel, book a suite and be completely alone,” his voice has that raspy tone.

While the idea of running to a fancy hotel is tempting, I don’t want to do the walk of shame in the morning. There’s always the chance that someone would catch wind of him being in Boston. The paps would be all over the hotel.

“That’s a tempting offer, but think about the ramifications if someone found out you were here?”

He sighs, turning his head to look out the windshield, “Fair point.”

“We’ve already tempted fate by sitting in a bar in the middle of downtown Boston all night.” I reach for his hand and entwine our fingers.

He squeezes my hand before releasing it to start the car, “Home to Bel-Air!” I giggle a little at him. “Now...just tell me how to get there.”

“Onward, Jeeves,” I joke.

He switches on the wipers, “That’s not the headlamps.”

“Uh...no,” I laugh reaching over him and turning them on.

“What kind of car is this anyway? Nothing is where it should be! Where’s the SatNav?” He complains in frustration.

“SatNav? What do you drive?” I laugh.

“Range Rover...or the Audi...why?”

“Those are like eighty thousand dollar vehicles!” It shouldn’t surprise me. He wears Saint Laurent boots like their Nikes.

“So?”

“This is nowhere near as expensive as a Range Rover,” I shake my head. “This a jalopy compared to that.”

“Seems nice enough...the bells and whistles just don’t make sense,” he says finally putting the car in gear and pulling from the curb.

Twenty minutes later, he pulls the car into the garage. We’re still discussing his car collection as we enter the kitchen.

“Finally! I thought you’d been in a wreck!” Grace yells at us.

“Sorry. The bells and whistles were in the wrong place,” I say poking him in the stomach.

“You didn’t scratch my baby, did you?” Em says running into the kitchen.

“No, she’s back safe and sound in the garage,” Harry laughs handing her the keys.

Taking Harry’s hand, I smile, “Goodnight, Girls.”

“Remember there are others in the house and the walls are thin,” Doc giggles around her cup of tea.

“Shut it,” I roll my eyes pulling him from the room.

~</3~

Smiling down at his soft face, I brush a stray curl from his cheek gently. After we stripped down to just our underwear, he wrapped my body in his and passed out cold. I doubted he’d gotten any sleep on the plane from Los Angeles. Hell, he’d probably hadn’t even adjusted fully from the tour.

I pull the white and red striped shirt he was wearing yesterday over my shoulders. His scent is heavy on the fabric. Buttoning it up, I make my way to my dresser and pull a pair of socks out. He stirs slightly in the bed as I close the bedroom door.

“Morning,” I say softly to Grace as I pass the kitchen table.

“Morning,” she mumbles back engrossed in the paper.

“It was awfully quiet last night,” Emily comments as she pulls her blazer on.

Looking up briefly while I pour a cup of coffee, I nod.

“Do you want me to leave my car?”

“No, mine’s fine,” I answer passing her to sit at the table.

“Alright. Have a good day,” Em pats Gray’s head. “Behave,” she says pointing at me, “On second thought...don’t. Be naughty for once.”

I laugh around the lip of my cup.  Gray hands me a portion of the paper she’s already read. We continue like this for the next half hour; sipping coffee and sharing the news.

“Right. I’m off. Don’t forget to do something with this,” she hands me the box from last night. “I can imagine Janelle has called a few times.”

“Why do you think that?” I set the box down on the table.

“Because she’s bloody texted me four times this morning alone! Have a good day.” She kisses the top of my head. Just as she opens the front door, the driver from the studio honks his horn. “Bloody Hell! People sleep you know!”

I climb the stairs and slip back into bed with Harry.

~</3~

April 10th

"No one should be awake" O'Clock

She stirred, whimpering quietly, next to me. Her eyebrows furrowed for a moment and then she sighed. Maybe the light on my phone was too bright?  I’m still battling a bit of insomnia with the time zone changes.

I dim it and continue to scroll through twitter. While most of our fans are incredible, there’s always a few bananas that spoil the bunch. I ignore the blatantly sexual tweets sent to me. Some are extremely explicit. I’m not prudish, but some have made even me blush.

“Haz?”

Her voice is soft, breaking a little from yelling over the music in the pub last night. The  nickname isn’t something I haven’t heard before. It’s sweeter coming out of her mouth though.

Her chilly hand reaches for me. It finds contact with my right bicep and squeezes a little.

“Harry?” Her eyes still closed.

Setting my phone on the nightstand, I pull the blankets up and pull her towards me. Her hair fans across my arm when she lays her head on my chest. It smells like oranges with a hint of sweet cream. After making sure she’s bundled tight under the blanket, I wrap my arms around her. She lets out a small sigh before her breathing deepens.

When my phone went off late the other night, my heart dropped into my stomach. While I had never spoken to Grace, she felt I needed to know that Bex was having a hard time. All because of that tosser. I want to know what happened to her, but I don’t want to know. Do you get what I’m saying? I’m afraid it’ll be terrible and I’ll want to hunt the prat down.

He’d sent her some pretty disturbing texts and when I responded to them, he sent pictures of us at the hotel. He continued to send them; each one getting more and more invasive. He told me he was going to release them to the media. Everything in me told me I needed to protect her. His final comment made me the angriest, which caused me to destroy her phone.

Enjoying my leftovers, Popstar? She’s a frisky one...but you probably already know that. She’s very good with her mouth, no?

Just the idea that he’d make comments about Rebekah like that angered me. I didn’t want her to see them; nor him be able to contact her. I threw the phone as hard as I could at the wall and then stomped on it. She knew, which made me feel terrible. In the end, I’d replaced it.

~</3~

Bex stirs a couple times waking me back up. She’s curled on her side. The clock tells me I’ve slept maybe two and half hours.  I slip out of bed once I’m sure Grace and Emily are gone. The house is warm, so I forego my jeans, but grab the sim card from Rebekah’s phone out of the front pocket. A mostly full pot of coffee waits on the counter. I pour a cup and look around the space.

A black iPod sits nestled into a sleek iHome.  I wake the device and hit shuffle. An Irish folk song comes on as I sit down at the table with her new phone. I requested a new local number for her. I plug it in and am surprised that her contacts and music are there.  Jeff really came through making this easy for me. Making sure she has every way to get in contact, I program in my american cell number. I feel like a twat doing it, but I search through her contacts and find his number. I delete it.  It wasn’t too hard to find. She listed it as “Dickhead”.

The next song makes me chuckle as I stand to pour another cup of coffee. I set the cup on the counter and pull my hair up, “and this is crazee...but here’s my numbah, so call me maybe.”

The back door opens and a pair of black heels skid across the floor stopping my pitiful dancing.

“Bloody hell...”

“Grace?” I call over the counter.

“Harry? What are you...oh...um...” The tiny brunette turns bright red when she sees me. “Didn’t think you’d be up or just standing there in your pants, love.”

I grab the open newspaper off the counter and cover myself, “I thought you were gone.”

“I was,” she growls. “Bloomin’ barista at Starbucks tossed a full cup of frappuccino at me.” She sighs motioning towards her now light brown stained pink blouse. “Listen to Carly Jepsen much?”

Glad she didn’t see me dancing, I laugh. “It’s hard to look right at you baby,” I sing to her before pulling the newspaper further up my body.

“You do realize everyone’s seen the tattoos, right? I mean...you barely button those bloody expensive blouses you wear.”

She’s got a point.

“Right! I’m off to change. Enjoy your prancing,” she winks.

I can tell I’m beat red as I pour the cup of coffee and take a seat farthest from where she will come through again. I peruse the paper a bit and check emails on my phone.

Twenty minutes later, she glides back through in a new outfit.

“Much bettuh choice,” I comment as she grabs a to-go cup from the cabinet.

“Better choice?” The petite brunette asks looking down at her clothes.

She’s wearing a Saint Laurent white baby-doll dress over a pair of black leggings.

“Saint Laurent. Spring/Summer fifteen, love,” I wink at her.

“I’m surprised you don’t own it,” she quips back with a wink of her own, pouring milk into her coffee.

“I think I like you.”

“Should I fawn because the Popstar likes me?” She says waving her hand in front of her face.

“You remind me of a friend of mine. She’d like you.”

“We’ll remain on good terms as long as you don’t prove all those lovely media reports are correct. Ta, Harry!” She waves and is out the back door again.

I waste time further by checking in with Louis. He’s back home, preparing for another night of partying. He’s going to have to make some major changes in the near future. You can’t be out at clubs every night when you have a child. Niall is still in Augusta for the Masters tournament.He’s caddying for his friend, Rory McElroy.  The fans are having a field day with his fall in the pine needles. “Oh No, Nialler” is trending and I feel bad for him, but not enough to not laugh at him. I check on my flight back to Los Angeles. I need to head back tomorrow to meet with a writing partner. I text Liam, hoping he’s cuddled up with Sophia somewhere.

My stomach growls from hunger and too much coffee. I need to put something in it and soon.  Checking the cabinets, I find a few boxes of cereal that don’t appeal to me. When I open the refrigerator, I find a gold mine. Eggs, vegetables, various fruits.

“Yeah, it’s pretty clear...I ain’t no size two,” I sing along with Meghan as I chop up some peppers for an omelet.  “But I can shake it, shake it, like I’m supposed to do...” I shake my bum a bit as I continue.

“I could get used to this.”

The sound of her voice makes me fumble with the knife, “Jeesus Christ! I’ve got a knife in my hand, Rebekah!” I turn to find her in my shirt from last night, hair a tangled mess from sleeping.

“Sorry! I’m not used to a nearly naked, man-bunned, tatted up popstar singing ‘All about that bass’ in my kitchen,” she laughs looking at the counter. “What are you making?”

I set the knife down and rub the arm now wrapped around my waist, “I’m making an omelet. Would you like to share? I’m starving.”

“Yes, please.” She pulls away after kissing a spot in the middle of my back. I can hear her pouring herself a cup of coffee as I continue prepping everything.  “Can I help with anything?”

“How are you with bacon?” I ask pointing at the package on the counter.

“Turkey bacon? I’m not eating that,” she huffs.

“That’s all I saw in the fridge,” I shrug. I chuckle when she stomps over to the fridge and yanks it open.  She scrounges around in it for a few moments.

“Bingo!!” She yells from inside. A hand holding a pound of bacon appears. “I knew Grace wouldn’t make me eat that shit.”

“Mouth, love,” I admonish her as I hand her the other package.

“We’ve talked about this, love,” she laughs, tossing the offending item in the fridge like it’s a Frisbee. She tears into the package in her hand before turning on the stove.

We cook and listen to the music as if we’ve been doing it together forever.  She bumps her hip against me as she dances to the Spice Girls. We sway together to Fleetwood Mac as I plate the omelet.

“How about some juice?” She asks turning down the music.

“Sounds good,” I nod grabbing a couple forks.  I carry the food over to the table as she pours pineapple juice.  

“One plate?” She asks setting the glasses down.

“Less dishes,” I smirk handing her a fork.  We dig in on either end of the omelet. “You’re phone is all set up.”

“Thanks.”

I watch as she bites into a slice of crisp bacon; a little bit of grease clings to her lips. I can’t help myself. I lean in, taking her bottom lip between mine.

“Mmm...” I hum as I pull away and lick the flavor off my own lips. Lifting my fork full of cheese, vegetables and egg to my mouth, she giggles. “Stop watching me eat.”

“You’re like a baby bird,” she laughs before mimicking a bird with its mouth open. I pinch her thigh for making fun of me. “Ow! Not nice.”

“Don’t make fun of me,” I pout.

“It’s the tongue! It’s like it leads you to the food.”

“You don’t mind the tongue,” I smirk.

“Touche’.” She blushes as she looks down at the plate. “Do you have plans for the day?”

“Just spending time with you, Tog.”

The doorbell rings and after a few seconds, it rings again. We both look at the clock.

“It’s way too early to be anyone I know,” she says standing up.

“Only one person knows I’m here,” I say stepping behind her. She makes it a few steps into the living room and stops dead in her tracks forcing me to sidestep around her. “What’s wrong?”

“Go put some pants on!” She says with wide eyes. “Quickly.”

“Who is it and why do you look pale all of the sudden?”

“Harry...it’s my parents.”

Without saying a word, I take the stairs two at a time. I grab my jeans from the floor. While trying to pull them up, I open every drawer in her dresser searching for a pair of pajama pants for her.  I zip my fly and grab a pair of yoga pants before slipping a t-shirt over my head.

“Here!” I yell tossing them down to her in the foyer. She falls into the door as she struggles to get her left leg into the pants. I chuckle when she tries to tame her hair as she opens the door.

“Rebs, love...” The man says as he steps over the threshold. He’s tall with dirty blond hair. He looks up surprised. “Oh. Hello, young man...”

“Hello, Sir,” I say lifting my hand for him to shake it. He takes it and gives it a fairly good squeeze.

“Ewan Oliver,” he nods shaking the hand.

“Daddy? What are you doing here?” She says not acknowledging her mother.

“Ma’am,” I say extending my hand to the thin brunette. I can see where Rebekah gets her looks from. Although her skin is fairer; her hair a shade lighter than Tog’s, the face is strikingly similar. The woman’s green eyes look at me critically. “Harry Styles, it’s nice to meet you.”

“Rebekah Elise, is that anyway to say hello?” Her voice has a soft, southern twang to it as she stares at me.  She doesn’t acknowledge my greeting. I’m not hurt by it, considering what Tog told me about their conversation the other day.

“Mother.” Tog bypasses me and walks quickly toward the kitchen. “Coffee, Daddy?”

I follow her parents into the kitchen and grab our coffee cups off the table. Her mother eyes the plate of food on the table.

“Rebekah. You need to fix this with your mum,” I whisper as I set the cups on the counter. She bumps my hip as she reaches for a cup in the cabinet. I stop the cabinet door with my hand before she can close it and grab another for her mum.

“Not until she apologizes for what she said,” she whispers back. “Why are you being so polite to her? She basically called you a child and me a pedophile!” She says turning toward the coffee maker.

“Tog, she’s your mum. If my mum found out I’d been rude, she’d box my ears. Does she drink coffee?” I ask softly pushing the cup toward her. She sighs and fills the cup. Without saying another word, she walks to the ice box, pulls out a small carton of cream and pours some into both new cups. She adds a few teaspoons of sugar to one before picking them both up.

“Come talk to my dad,” she says before placing a quick kiss to my lips.

I refresh our cups and turn toward the table. Her mom has my fork in her hand, inspecting the contents of the omelet.

“You didn’t make this, did you Rebekah?”

I watch as Tog pulls the fork out of her hand and slides the plate to her left.

“I made it, Ma’am,” I say handing Rebekah her cup before sitting down.

“It’s definitely a little too healthy to have been made by my daughter, Mister Styles. May I ask when you arrived?” She says coolly over the edge of her cup.

“I landed yesterday morning.”

“Interestin’...”

Tog rolls her eyes as she grabs my hand, “So...Daddy...why are you here so early?”

Her father turns toward me, “May I call you Harry?” When I nod, he continues, “Please excuse Rebs and Nelle. There seems to have been a misunderstanding the other day.”

“I’m aware, sir,” I answer squeezing Tog’s hand.

“Mister Styles,” her mother begins. The tone of her voice reminds me of my mother when I did something wrong.

“Yes, ma’am,” I answer giving her my full attention; looking directly into her eyes. She opens her mouth but nothing comes out for a moment.

“Don’t...how...” she mumbles, still looking at me. She takes a deep breath and places her hands on the table. “Could you please remove...the bun... from your hair, young man? Women wear their hair up that way.”

Not expecting that, I blink a few times before standing up. My mum taught me manners and you shouldn’t come to the table without a shirt or play with your hair. I already broke one rule today.  Once I make it out to the living room, I remove the hair band and ruffle out my hair. Slipping the tie onto my wrist, I re-enter the kitchen. The two women are having a stare down.

Without looking at me, her mother continues, “Don’t you think you’re a little young to be courting my daughter, Mister Styles?”

“No, ma’am,” I answer confidently.  The woman looks toward me. Her eyes grow wide for a moment. By the way she’s looking at me, I check my shirt to make sure there’s no food or coffee spilled on it. She seems in utter shock. “Are you alright, Missus Oliver?”

“Momma?” Tog says touching her arm.

“Yes, yes siree...I’m fine,” she says lifting her coffee cup to her lips. She takes a gulp before placing it back down. She touches the side of her hair and looks at her daughter. “Is he always this darn purty?”

Tog snorts quietly, “Unfortunately, yes, momma.”

“Well now, I’m not quite sure what to say...”

Tog lets out a loud laugh and shakes her head.

“Are you two done being stubborn?” Her father slumps back into his chair.

“Mister Styles, I want to know about your kin,” the woman says in a soft tone.

“Bloody hell, Nelle...”

“You can call me Harry, Missus Oliver,” I smile at her.

The woman shakes her head and sits back in her chair, “You can put those dimples away, Harry. Do you have family?”

“Yes, ma’am. My parents are divorced. My mother is remarried. I have a sister and two step-siblings,” I nod.

“Where do you live?”

The next two hours turn out to be a polite inquisition of the life and times of Harry Styles. Rebekah sits back and lets me answer every question; snickering when I tell them I worked in a bakery before auditioning for the X Factor. Her father makes small comments when I talk about Holmes Chapel or home in general. He and I discuss photography which leads to my friendships with Ben and Cal.

“Have you met Robert?”

“When I’m home, I often have dinner with Robert and Lira. I don’t like to eat alone,” I answer quietly. “She makes a lovely pot of stew.”

“Child? Don’t you go back to your momma when you go home?” Tog’s mum asks, her voice concerned.

“I have a home in London. My family lives in Cheshire. The Winston’s don’t live far and I enjoy their company. I’ve known Ben for a number of years.”

“Rebekah, you need to learn to cook, sweetheart.”

“Momma!”

“Janelle, we’ve taken up enough of the kids’ time. I think we should go home,” her father says taking his wife’s hand.

“Nonsense! This boy needs a good southern meal and some company!”

“I think he has all the company he needs, love.” He smiles at me.

“We have lunch plans with the girls anyway, momma,” Tog says winking at me. We have no real plans.

“Oh...well...How long are you staying? You must come out and visit us at the house. I’ll make you some real down home Texas barbecue,” Janelle says quietly.

“Thank you, I’d love that. Maybe next time.”

“We need to be getting ready, Momma. I’ll call you tomorrow,” Tog says before hugging her.

I’m glad to see them getting along. They have some talking to do, but it’s better than the atmosphere when her parents arrived. Standing up, I follow the three of them to the door. She hugs both before I shake her father’s hand. Her mother skirts around her husband offering me her hand.

I take it and pull her in for a hug, “It was a pleasure to meet you.”

“You too, Harry. Who taught you to hug like that?” She says pulling away quickly.

“My mum and I like to hug people,” I smile up at Tog.

“Alright, sugar,” she finally smiles at Bex. “You two have a good lunch with Doc and Gray. We’ll be talkin’ again, Harry.” She says giving me a look. It’s soft. “You sure got great dimples.”

“Thank you,” I say politely as my cheeks turn red.

~</3~

While Tog cleaned up the mess we made in the kitchen, I went up and took a shower.  After drying off, I make sure to pull on a pair of pants and a new pair of jeans. Things were a little different than when we were sharing a hotel room. She’d allowed me to hold her last night, but there hadn’t been any walking around or sleeping naked.  I want Rebekah to be at ease. I don’t want her to feel like I’m pushing her to do anything she doesn’t want.

After finding a comb and pulling it through my hair, I start to think about when I’ll cut it all off.  I’ve always said I’d donate it to charity. With the plans I have been making with Jeff, that might happen sooner rather than later. I’d really love to share it with Tog, but things are still up in the air.  When the guys and I were talking about our future plans, everything was taken into consideration. Including Louis’ possible fatherhood.

“Tog?” I call as I head down the stairs.

“Yes, I’ll let you know if I received anything further from him,” she says into her phone. She lifts her hand up toward me. “I appreciate you calling. Thank you.”

“What’s up?” I ask as she ends the call.

“That was a lawyer referred by someone named J. Azoff.”

“Good,” I smile pulling her into a hug. “Probably the best in Boston.”

“Out of New York, actually,” she says pulling away. The tone in her voice doesn’t sound happy.

“What’s wrong?”

“Azoff...who is that?” She asks fiddling with the phone.

“He’s one of my best friends. We’ve spoken about Jeff before.”

“Ah. Does he always do this sort of stuff for you?”

“Well,” I sigh. It might be time to mention my plans. “Jeff may become my manager in the future. He has a lot of contacts in the business. He helps me out quite a bit. He wants only the best for me.”

“He obviously knows about us,” her voice strained.

“Of course,” I answer before taking a deep breath. “I have some things in the works. Possibly doing some solo stuff... maybe doing some acting.”

“Acting?” She asks wide eyed.

“Yeah,” I nod.

“Seriously?”

“We’ll see. Jeff is a really good guy. Trust me. You’ll love him,” I say kissing her forehead.

“Okay,” she says quietly into my chest.

~</3~

After deciding that it’d be best for me to stay home, Bex heads out to Wahlburgers for lunch.

I handle a few calls to Jeff, and our management, while I wait.

“Well, I hope to god she didn’t just up and leave ye by yourself!” Emily strolls through the living room, tossing her bag on the staircase.

“She just went to get some lunch,” I smile.

“Has anyone ever asked ye about moving into those dimples, Harry?” She laughs.

“It’s been mentioned by a fan or two.”

“Makin’ yerself at home I see,” she eyes the cup of tea on the table. “You Brits and yer tea. Did you at least find the Yorkshire tea Gray hides?”

“I did,” I wink as I lift the cup up and take a sip.

“So Mister Styles, have ye worked out the plans for our surprise for Bex?”

We discuss booked flights, time off and how I’ll get the tickets and credentials to her. Jeff is given her email and work address.

“Alright, H...are you ready for the best burger in Bahsten?” Bex calls from the kitchen. “Hey, Em. Didn’t know you’d be home this afternoon. Good thing I got an extra burger or two.”

“While I admire your love of those burgers, I came home to change. My afternoon has suddenly become clear. I’m going to work out.  Enjoy!” She smiles before going upstairs.

“Come on, H! Before they get cold!”

When I enter the kitchen, Tog has an array of burgers on the table. She continues to pull items out of the bag.

“You’re not feeding the whole band, Tog,” I shake my head at the spread.

“I know, but how will you decide which is your favorite if you don’t try them all?” She says hands on her hips. I shrug my shoulders as she hands me a drink.

“That’s the orange cream float.  There’s homemade lemonade too,” she points as she sits, pulling a burger toward her. “This is...um....this is the O.F.D,” she looks under the bun and then slices it in half with a knife. “This is the our burger.”

She does the same thing with each of the five burgers. One is huge; I think she called it the Beast.I take half of the most interesting two. The O.F.D and the BBQ Bacon.

“The O.F.D.?” I ask before taking a bite of it.

“Originally from Dorchestah,” she answers wiping her mouth.

It’s pretty good. Mushrooms, swiss cheese and bacon.

“Dawchesstah?” I try to imitate her.

She laughs and shakes her head, “Door..chest...ah. It’s actually Dorchester. A Boston accent shouldn’t be that hard for a Brit, H.”

“Dorchester? As in England? Where the Dorset teddy bear museum is?” I ask eyeing the bbq bacon burger.

“No, Dorcester, Massachusetts. You know where a teddy bear museum is?” She looks at me perplexed.

“I like Teddy bears,” I smile.

“You’re a teddy bear,” she winks and takes a huge bite of the Beast. She picks up an onion ring from the box on the table.  She’s in a good mood and I hate to bring her down, but I need to bring up my travel plans.

“We need to talk about something,” I say hesitantly.

The onion ring stops close to her mouth, “Okay.”

“I’m leaving in the morning.” I swallow hard as she drops the half eaten ring into her lap.

Author Note: I appreciate everyone who has stuck around and waited for the next installment of Harry & Bex. I write this for me but also for those who are enjoying it.  Please remember to leave some love. Hope to see you soon! ~ Lady H.