To be so lucky {H.S.} ✔️

Chapter 12

Harry was already sitting on the couch when I got back to the living room.

"What do you want to eat? I know you don't eat meat, so I was thinking about making a quick veggie stew. Does that sound okay? I'm in the mood for comfort food."

"Sounds good to me. But, if you're cooking, I'm helping."

Harry quickly stood up, following me to the kitchen. I was a good cook, my mother had taught me well, but the actual act of cooking was definitely not on my list of favorite things to do. Having Harry help me would actually make the whole process a lot more fun.

As if he could read my mind, Harry asked me if I usually cooked.

"I try to avoid take out as much as I can, so yes, I do cook for myself. But as far as food is concerned, I'm more of an eater than a cooker. Love to eat, would love if someone else would cook the food for me."

"Should I be worried about this stew, then?"

Nudging him on the arm, I handed Harry a cutting board, a chopping knife, and an onion. "That comment just got you onion duty."

"Oh noooo." Harry fake fainted over the kitchen counter. "Please, ma'am. Don't do this to me."

"It's too late, farm boy. Now go! Fulfil your duty!"

Like a man condemned to death, Harry started on his chopping job, while I washed the spinach, the tomatoes and the mushrooms. My lips seemed incapable of going back to their normal state, insisting on forming a silly smile on my face.

Suddenly, Harry stopped chopping, coming to kneel next to me. He grabbed the hem of my shirt with both hands, an expression of pain taking over his features, tears running down his face.

I panicked, crouching in front of him, his hands in mine. "Harry! What...?"

"WHYYYY? Why do you do this to me, lady? Whyyyyy? It's not my fault that your husband had an affair with my mother, all those years ago!"

Lowering my face into my hands, I got back to a standing position and laughed.

"What the hell, Harry? You scared the crap out of me!

He stood too, also laughing. "Serves you well, miss, for punishing me like this."

"Sneaky bastard!" I threw him a mushroom.

"Hey! Don't waste perfectly good food! I'm disappointed, Nina." Drying the tears down his face, that I now knew had been caused by the onion chopping, Harry got back to his task.

"Are you? Disappointed?"

My question wasn't about the mushroom throwing moment, and Harry knew that. Pausing what he was doing for a few seconds, he gave me a beautiful, tender smile. "Never."

Ignoring the heat in my cheeks, that now seemed to spread all over my body, I turned back to washing veggies.

We finished cooking dinner, laughing the whole time. When all there was left to do was wait for the stew to simmer, I washed my hands and walked out to the porch, sitting sideways on the swing, one of my legs folding under my body.

Harry followed me outside, but didn't seat. Instead, he leaned on the balcony to look at the lake. The sun was almost down, a few birds singing and dancing around. It was a beautiful view.

"I noticed an acoustic guitar in your study room. Do you play?" He asked.

"I don't. It's my mom's guitar. She loved music."

"Did she play?"

"And sang. She was so good at it, a truly angelic voice. My mom used to sing to me, all the time, especially when I was younger. But professionally, she never really pursued it." I smiled, memories of my mom sitting in our living room, playing her guitar, and singing to Johnny Cash, flooding my mind.