Distract and Sedate H.S

Chapter Sixty Two

I was right. I woke that morning to a dent in the place beside me. I had crawled up into the warmed sheets, inhaling his scent as if he were there. But he was not.

I felt guilty for the drama I caused yesterday, slamming a bathroom door in his face. It was just... becoming too much for me to handle. When I felt helpless, I acted out. I only wish I could've controlled the situation in better means. We could've sat down and talked through how I was feeling about the circumstances leading up till now. It's ironic how many times I had given the advice to married couples and yet utterly ignored it for myself.

The doctor was concerned to hear the duration of my post-nasal drip and lethargy, along with the persistent headache I had been experiencing. He requested I comply with a number of blood tests, even a MRI brain scan. He gave nothing away of his suspicions, though unease seemed hidden within his face when I was led to the scanning room. I was supposedly going to hear the results within the next few weeks.

I was generally a hypochondriac, but at this point in life I didn't so much as bat an eye. It would do me nothing to sit and worry about these brain scans and the many possible outcomes, or anti-climax of being told it was only the vast effects of stress.

I felt light-headed while walking into a nearby coffee shop. It was most probably a result of the blood extracted, although part of me believed it was the thoughts that were swimming through my mind, drowning me.

The small coffee shop on the corner of two quiet streets was almost empty for all but two or three others. A waiter was quick to my side when I claimed a table at the window.

"Do you have coffee?" I grumbled, propping my elbow up on the table and planting my head atop it.

He smiled to himself, glancing around the store. "Yes miss, this coffee shop does sell coffee I believe." His northern British accent surprised me. I sat up in my chair.

"You're from England?"

"Correct again. I'm a Brit with a British accent and we sell coffee in this coffee shop. You're alright, babe?" He grinned down at me. I couldn't help but smile lightly.

"I'm sorry. It's been a rough week." I curled my hands together in my lap, inhaling deeply as I thought over what to order. "What's the special today?"

"Cheesecake, if you fancy it after this rough week. I would, however, recommend—"

The ring of my phone cut him off. He pursed his lips with a polite smile. I sighed to myself. "Excuse me a moment, please."

I tore my eyes off his hazel-brown eyes to see an endearing picture Harry and Darcy flash across my screen. I answered curiously. He usually never calls in the day.

"I have half an hour off. Where are you?" I felt like telling him that I too could be busy, but we both knew this was a lie. "It's a small coffee shop..."

My waiter whispered the address in amusement. I smiled gratefully and gave it to Harry.

"So, what would you like?"

"Coffee. As strong as they come," I muttered.

Harry arrived a few minutes later, a briefcase swinging from his side. He scouted out the small shop before his eyes rested over me and weaved his way through the tables.

I could see the waiter watching us from the corner of his eyes as Harry leaned down to kiss me. I pulled away soon after, uncomfortable in the public scene.

"How's your day been, dear?" He fell to the chair opposite me and dropped his briefcase beside it. "Mine has been an absolute bore." I didn't know if I could believe him as I witnessed the radiance of his eyes that lay over me.