If He Was Your Fan (A Henry Cavill Fanfic)

Chapter 66: Walk, Trot, Canter, Jump

"It's like a Royal Starbucks," you breathe, looking around.

He laughs at that.

"May I look at the books?" you ask.

The host turns. "You actually want to see them?"

"Yes!" you say with a big smile. "Do you have any first editions?"

The host takes us on a small tour of the library and then seats us.

"You really love your writing history," he observes aloud.

"Well, some," you tell him. "there is so much more out there, you know? There are the writers who gained acceptance and acclaim, but there are so many who are just good storytellers and wordsmiths who will never make it here, or might after death when their material is found. Like anything else, sometimes it's talent that gets you there, but sometimes it's who you know."

You overlook the Thames with Big Ben in the background, and you can't help but smile.

"What?"

"You look like a postcard, babe."

He flushes slightly, chuckling. He leans forward slightly. "You're a treat for my eyes, too."

You smile at his charm, but you are not a postcard and you know it. Though you saw some women in dresses, you were dressed to ride at a moment's notice. Dressed in a white flowing blouse, tight black leather vest and brown pants, you look more like a commoner. You set your floppy hat aside.

Henry excuses himself to go to the loo and you sit there waiting. You went on arrival before looking at some of the antique books.

"Ah, there she is."

You look up, and tense at the sight of the three witches from the equestrian event.

"Henry's newest acquisition."

You frown at that. You will yourself to say nothing. You set your napkin on your lap.

"Do you really think you'll keep him?" the blonde asks. "You're not even from proper or wealthy family. You can't raise his position, you are--"

You exhale heavily. "Someone he loves?"

"Until the novelty wears off," she says in a low voice. "He only lasts through that, the infatuation, didn't you know?"

You take a deep breath. "I guess time will tell then." Social media was never important to you; in fact you have two identities online-your writing pseudonym and your real one. But these people you cannot avoid. "Thank you for your unsolicited input on a relationship you have no part in. Have a good day." You raise your hand.

The host rushes over. "Miss?"

"These-ladies-wish me ill. Would you see them to their table, please?"

"We're done here—"

"Amber?" Henry says. His body his rigid, his blue eyes hard like shards of ice.

Her demeanor becomes bubbly. "Henry, I came by to say hello."

"Hello," he curtly nods in acknowledgment. "Linda, Catherine." 

"Henry," they greet in unison.

He looks at them and gives a small smile. He introduces you as his significant other. "Good seeing you all, and do take care of yourselves." He gives a nod to the host.

"This way, please?" the host nods. The ladies give parting glares to both of us before being led away.

"Darling—"

"I'm fine," you say. "I'm fine." But all the fears you have about being with Henry are rising like bile inside you. You are trying to assimilate, but there is nothing to do about your lineage or little finances. You are working on the latter, but unless you are a debutante daughter or lost heir, it is highly probable you may never be worth forty million. Times like these you are reminded.

"Do you—do you want to go?" His concern is so clear as he lovingly takes your hand. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No," you say quickly. "I refuse to listen to and care about people who do not care about me, it's like willfully eating poison." You smile and he gives you a small smile, giving your hand a squeeze. "I'd rather concentrate on those who do. Besides, our relationship is between us, we won't allow others in and we won't let others win, will we?"

A small smile tugs at his lips. "No."

You look around, feeling braver. "I want to have tea here, Henry, it's a good choice."

He brightens. "Love that."

"What?"

"You're such a spitfire at times."

You laugh at him. "Let's just say my mother had reserves of inner strength I luckily inherited."

"Yes, one of the reasons I love you." He kisses your hand.

"And why I love you, Henry."