In The Assistant, Becky Holte met the renowned and cold lawyer, Harry Styles. She went from being his personal assistant to best friend to coworker in the span of a few years. Now, 'dating her boss' has been added to the list with the possibility of...
Word Count: 7.6k words / Song: Bloom by Paper Kites
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"He touched her face gently with the back of his hand. 'You disappear so completely into your head sometimes,' he said. 'I wish I could follow you.' 'You do,' she wanted to say. 'You live in my head all of the time."
- Jace and Clary, City of Ashes
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"Ree, you need to eat something."
I had heard it again and again, and still, I was ignoring it. For better or for worse. It comes again, and another time as the bleep of the car locking behind us sounds.
"You know what he's going to say," she continues. Of course, I do, it's going to be if I've eaten breakfast, but he's not himself right now. Yet, he's still there, deep down. So is the way I don't want to disappoint him, or our baby.
"Fine, give me the damned granola bar then," I relent, swiping the object from her hand and tearing it open. Luckily, my stomach doesn't roil at the sight of it or the taste, and I chew hungrily.
"I'll just be out here then- well, in the waiting room, but not the same one, of course."
"Yeah," I mumble absently, listening to her departing footfall. They echo in my ears amongst the busy sounds of the hospital floor, the Surgical Intensive Care Unit, or something like that. Only a minute off the lift and I couldn't remember.
The tips of my ears still felt numb with cold, another sensation nudging against the hammering of my heart in my chest. It grew faster and louder when I reached his door, the number still burned into my memory. This time, I don't linger, walking right into the sounds and sights I didn't miss. But there's the man lying in the hospital bed I ached and longed for all night and this morning as I moved around our house without him. Thought about our baby without him, and saw the memory of him proposing on the balcony by myself.
My heart slows its ticking and swells when I find his face, only to have it squeeze at the remembrance of the stitches and colors interrupting his beautiful skin. A pallor still clings to him and within moments, my lips are singing from kissing his warm forehead. Soft breaths escape his lips and sitting down in the chair beside him, my heart falls at his absence. There hadn't been a second since the last time I was here that my thoughts didn't overrun with missing him, wanting him. It's unsuccessful when I attempt to nudge the disappointment away, trying to tell myself that he needs the sleep, no matter how much I want to see those eyes open and be warmed by his sunshine smile.
