Introspective Strangers [h.s.]

Chapter 62

"Harry." It was a plea. A plea to the one I loved to listen to me, to sit with me, hold me while I explained to him the hardest thing that I was going to have to admit in a while. "Please."

Part of him seemed to break at my words. His shoulders sagged, forehead dropping to his chest, where he buried his face in his palms. "May, what the fuck?" His eyes were clouded as he looked back up at me.

"I, um," I wrung my hands together, biting down hard on my lip and trying to focus on breathing through my nose – hoping that it would keep me from crying for a little while longer. "I applied a few weeks ago..." I shook my head. "I don't... I was never supposed to get it."

"Why?" A broken word, tumbling from a broken man. He was looking at me but hadn't come any closer. I heaved a small sigh, heading back over to sit on the couch, feeling like I was going to pass out.

"I was angry Harry," I said, my voice so low and anguished. I shook my head. "I was so angry. And I felt so lost when you wouldn't talk to me. I was thinking about what it would be like having to go to work every day and see you, knowing you had told me you loved me but wouldn't talk to me."

"But it's fine now," his voice was desperate. He took a few steps forward, dropping to his knees and looking at me. He was frantically shaking his head. "It's all fine now, we love each other. It's all worked out. I mean–"

"I know," I interrupted, my eyes stinging. "I know, Harry. It's good now. We love each other and–" I hesitated, swallowing hard.

Harry put his hands on my knees, still shaking his head. "And? And what? I don't get it. Tell them you don't want the job."

"I was going to," my bottom lip quivered. I had the urge to bury my face in my hands, wishing Harry wasn't directly in front of me, knowing it would be wrong right now to seek comfort from him. "I was going to e-mail after we made up and revoke my application but..." Now it was my turn to shake my head. I bit down hard on my lip, tilting my head to the ceiling. "But I then I realized just how hard it was going to be working with you. Having to sneak around, not being able to tell people, worrying that someone might see or assume something–"

"I'd fire them." Harry said so quickly, it nearly made me jump. "May, I'd fucking have them gone before they could even draft an e-mail. You don't have to worry about that, seriously–"

"But I don't want that, Harry." I pleaded, voice resorting to a whine. I looked him in the eye – into those sad, green eyes that still somehow maintained their brilliance. "I don't want you to fire people for me. I don't want you to do any of those things for me." I took a shaky breath. "I took so long – I mean, you helped me for so long to realize that I needed to do things on my own and act for myself."

"I want you to do that, May. I do–"

"Which is why I can't work there, Harry." I cupped his chin, giving him a sad smile, wanting to smooth the crease that had formed between his brows. "I want to be that person you pushed me to be. I want to be independent. I want to make a name for myself at work without it being tied to you."

The tears dripped down my cheeks, falling onto my neck and tumbling to my collarbones. The warmth in juxtaposition to the cold that I had been feeling these past few minutes made me shiver.

"I'll sell it." Harry's hands slid from my knees to my waist. "I'll sell the fucking company. Then you won't have to worry. You won't have to quit–"

"Harry," he had barely heard the words, was still rambling. I gripped his chin softly, pulling him to look at me. "I don't want that either."

"Then what do you want, May?" he pleaded, voice full of pain and laced with the undertone of a whine that I was sure was going to play unbidden in my mind on repeat for years to come. "Please." He squeezed my waist. "Tell me what you want. Just tell me what I can do to keep you here."