Ebony & Ivory [H.S]

Sixty

"Here you go," he announces, showing me where the towel is, and he's almost out the door before I grab his attention.

"Wait," I call out to him, stopping him in his tracks.

My heart almost catches in my throat, and almost like a deer in headlights, I'm unable to do or say anything.

"Do you need anything else?" he enquires, his back still faced to me.

The room remains quiet besides the sound of the running water echoing throughout the tiled bathroom, and I get the courage to speak.

"You," I say aloud, my voice weak. "I need you."

For the first time, he meets my gaze, and for a split second I believe he will stay, but he turns on his feet, exiting the room.

"Let me know if you need anything else," he expresses, his voice low and monotonous.

Thanks for that Harry. Because at the end of the day, actions speak so much louder than words.

I can't help but notice the way his stance changes when I enter the room, fully dressed, hair clean and damp from my shower.

"What've you got on for the day then?" Harry asks quite mechanically, any form of life absent from his voice.

"I have a meeting with a client here at the house," I inform him. "I hope that's okay with you."

It's actually been quite nice to have the additional space here at Harry's. I'm fortunate enough to have a room for my styling, as well as a great office space where I can focus on buying.

"You think you'll be okay to go ahead with it given that you've been sick all morning?" he confirms, looking quite skeptical.

"Yeah, it'll be fine, just a bit of morning sickness," I assure him, grabbing some juice out of the refrigerator to check its use by date more closely. "What's the date today?"

"The eleventh I think," Harry replies, checking his phone to be sure. "Yeah, the eleventh."

"Ah, this says the ninth on it. Surely it should be right?" I shrug, attempting to take a sip.

"No!" Harry blurts, preventing me from drinking the slightly out of date juice. "Once it's out of date, it's pretty much over. Best to chuck it out."

Taking it from my hands, I say nothing as he pours the remaining contents of the carton down the drain, as I wonder if he's referring to juice, or something much more significant.

"So are you seeing just the one client today, or?" he enquires, making small talk with me. I can see him struggling, and I wonder what's going on in that mind of his.

"I think so," I explain, before an idea pops into my head. "It's really funny how I met her. You know Celia. Celia Wright?" I ask quite casually, whilst closely inspecting his body language.