About (Harry Styles)

82.

Elaine's POV

Go to him?

If only it was that simple.

Would he forgive me? Or would he hate me?

The question would remain unanswered for a month. The same amount of time I've been staring at the piece of crumbled white paper folded between his handkerchief, unable to do anything more than look. Even though I know I should, I can't bring myself to do it.

I'd rather have him forget about me than have him hate me for the rest of his life.

During this time, India called me with exciting news. The interview was back on. He reached out to them and apologized which surprised  me. I didn't think he wanted anything more to do with me.

The magazine was published just a few days ago. I wasn't able to restrain myself from purchasing a copy, but I have been strong enough to keep myself from opening it.

"Remember to keep your hat on. And your scarf. And your mittens," I order my little girl and she obediently nods.

"We'll be back, mommy," Charlotte says to me as her Uncle Chris picks her up from the floor and onto his shoulders. Every time he does that, I'm always afraid she's going to fall or hit her head on the ceiling.

"Don't be out too late," I tell Chris and he slightly rolls his eyes. I know he's capable of protecting her. And I know more than anyone that he loves her like his own, but it's a mother's job to worry for their children.

"We'll be back before ten," he promises as I hand him both pairs of their ice skates. He turns his head as far as he can to ask Charlotte if she's ready and she yells gleefully that she is, adding in a "Giddy up!"

I watch Charlotte's head disappear down the stairs and sigh to myself, rethinking my decision to stay home for the evening. Ice skating would be very distracting right now, but I still needed to send my resumes and applications to work areas around town if I ever want to do more than just ice skate.

After I finish sending in about ten applications, I look up from the screen of my computer to see that it's already 8:45 PM. Has it only been an hour since they left?

I can already picture Charlotte walking in now, her nose and cheeks flushed a glowing tinge of pink from being in the cold all night.  Her eyes would fight to keep themselves open, tired from all the effort she put in at how to ice skate.

My gaze suddenly falls to the coffee table in front of me, fixating on another pair of green eyes staring at me.

"If you love him...Go to him."

My mother's words ring in my ears for the hundredth time today.

I grab the magazine from the mess of papers and remove the plastic wrap, letting my fingers run across his face on the cover. 

Am I too late?  Can I still come to you?   I ask him as if he were in front of me.

I open to the first page of his interview which is him sitting on the table, the table that I moved and bumped into him.  He's casually sitting with one leg crossed over the other and with a cup of, I'm assuming, tea, on the table.

Phan: I'm so happy you've decided to give this interview again.

Styles: It's my pleasure.

Phan: If I may be so bold, can I ask why you withdrew?

Styles: Just scheduling conflicts but we figured it all out.