"Strangers." || h.s au

[36] Care

Ella.

"Hello?" Harry says to the phone.

We had just arrived from our dat- from the boathouse and I fumble with my purse to my retrieve keys.

I turn to Harry, his expression had changed, his jaw clenching, as he runs his hand through his hair.
"No. I'm not attending."

I then go about my business, sticking the key in the knob then opening my door. I mouth to Harry that I will be going in and he says he'll be following.

I wonder who he was talking to. I shrug it for a moment, and I take off my coat and my shoes, reminding I will be bringing those to my closet later.

I put up my hair into the ponytail and I begin to take out the ingredients for my spaghetti and meatball recipe. It's Vanessa's recipe and it's fantastic.

Momentarily, Harry enters, taking off his coat, hanging it in the rack and same with his shoes. He looks furious but he tries to mask it. Like usual. "So you're making spaghetti and meatballs?" He walks over to the kitchen, sitting on a bar stool behind the marbled island.

I nod. "I've really been craving it."

He doesn't say anything at all, he goes through his phone, his jaw still clenched, brows furrowing.

I'd like to ask what's bothering him but he seems to sort of blow up when people ask him about his problems.

I just made spaghetti and meatballs in peace and him quiet behind the island counter. I glance at him when I can.
I know for a fact that he's angry. We just had a grand time at the boathouse, and now he's all quiet.

By the time I finish, I transfer the sauce on to the pasta. I sit down next to him, bringing the plates and the spaghetti, the glass hardware, clinking on the marble.

He gets food quietly, and so do I.
We eat in silence for a few minutes then his phone rings again.

He grabs his phone, declining and angrily shoving it in his pocket.

"Who was that?"

"My Dad." He mumbles, biting the tender meatball from his fork.

"Oh. What happened?"

"You know, just uh.. just stuff that I didn't want to hear." He reasons out. I mean he does have a right to be angry. I still don't know what happened between them so I can't necessarily say why he's angry at him.

"Do you ever talk to him?" I ask.

"No. He actually just asked me if I could attend his birthday dinner."

"When is it?"

"This Saturday night." He eats the remaining of the meatball. "This is really good by the way." His demeanor changes.

"Thanks." I reply to his compliment, "So you're not going?"

"I don't know. With my Dad it's almost always a no." He says.

I swirl my fork into the pasta, eating half the meatball. "Who would be at his birthday dinner?"

"Niall and his family, my father's wife, and his family."

"So you? And your Mom and sister?" I ask.

He chuckles dryly. "His wife, and his business associates, and his wife's children."

"Oh.. I didn't know he had a wife."

"I don't like talking about it.." He mumbles.

"I'm sorry I asked I-"