Chapter 31

                                    

                                          
Finley
Easter dinner with Amelia and Miles and Hannah and their kids is the best I've felt all week. There's laughter and stories and Sunday dinner - roast in gravy and vegetables and Yorkshire pudding. And it's all so fuzzy that I can't stop smiling. Until the dinner ends. And Miles and Hannah pack their kids into their car and drive away. And I have to face the next few hours before Harlyn shows up.
I texted him yesterday afternoon, after Miles and Hannah took Mia and James up to take a bath and I found his worried text waiting for me. All week, I've been staying away, avoiding to make myself less of a bother. And yet that's what worried them most. My heart and head are torn between feeling absolutely cared about and feeling devastated that I've let them worry for so long. I texted Max first, who told me he was glad I wasn't dead and that he'd have words for me when he gets back on Monday. And then I texted Harlyn.
Me:I'm alive. Sorry.Me:We do need to talk. Tomorrow? My place? I know your brother's in town, so if that doesn't work we can wait until Monday, but...you're right. Soon.
We agreed to meet here, since, well, it made the most sense. His brother and his fiancée aren't leaving until tomorrow since they both have work off for Easter Monday - a thing I did not know existed until he told me - but he said he could get out of the after dinner movie night. I didn't ask him how, but I didn't really care. I just wanted this to happen as soon as earthly possible. I'd stewed long enough, let my anxiety win for long enough. And there's so much I want to tell Harlyn, face to face. I also want to kiss him. A lot. But I decide to let him initiate that, still not entirely sure whether he hates me. His worried text, while painful to bear, at least shows that he still cares.
I was hoping dinner would last longer, but we started early. Miles and Hannah wanted to get on the road as soon as possible so they could get Mia and James to their own bed at a reasonable time. So, it's only five. And it only takes half an hour to help Amelia clean up dinner and wash the pots and pans. She knows Harlyn's coming over, and keeps looking at me like she wants to say something. But she doesn't. When all the dishes are drying, she pads into the living room and turns on the TV. I retreat to my room and wait. Harlyn texts a while later, telling me he's on his way. And when the doorbell rings, it's Amelia who makes it to the door first. I stand awkwardly at the bottom of the stairs, watching their interaction.
"Hello, dear," she greets. Harlyn smiles thinly as he steps into the kitchen, shucking his shoes off.
"Hi," he says. God, he's adorable. What has possessed me to avoid him for five whole days? Panic creeps up in my head, but I push it down and try to steady my breathing. They cross the kitchen, murmuring about the weather, and then he's right there. Within touching distance. He's wearing a dark blue button up over a pair of black jeans, and I've missed him.
Amelia gives me an approving look as she says goodbye and shuts herself in the living room. And we're alone.
"Hi," I squeak.
He smiles, nervous but as sweet as ever. "Hi." He glances at the door to the living room. "Does she, er..."
"Know?" I ask. "Yeah. Is...that ok? She won't tell anyone. I promise."
"No, of course. It's fine," he says. His eyes skitter around the hallway and up the stairs. "But maybe we should...not do this right outside her door."
"Oh, right," I say, spinning around and leading the way up the stairs to my room. When I close the door behind him, I realize how small the room is. Or maybe it's that Harlyn's mere presence fills every inch of it. I gesture lamely at my desk chair and take the bed, bracing myself with my feet on the floor. My body is afraid to get too comfortable. "So."