"That went well," is the first thing Harry says as he opens the door to the passenger seat and offers me his hand so I can climb into his car. I ignore it. "Don't you think so?"
The only response he gets from me is a frown because whilst it did go well, a massive part of me is still annoyed at him for springing the whole 'I have a home for us' thing on me without telling me first. A head's up would have sufficed, but apparently Harry doesn't know how that works. If he thinks I'll be okay with all of his plans, then he's thought wrong.
"Beverly," his voice coaxes me to look at him as soon as he's gotten into the driver's seat. I refuse to do so. Just because he's able to charm my mum, that doesn't mean he can charm me. That'll never happen. "Beverly, hey, you're not happy. What's it?"
And at that, I tilt my head to look at him, words spilling out of my mouth before I get the chance to stop them. Not that I would anyway because I've meant to say it as soon as he unexpectedly revealed that he's gotten us a house at Primrose Hill. "Don't you think it's a bit, I don't know, stupid to tell my mum that you've bought a house for us?"
"I don't think it's stupid," Harry replies with a shrug as he unbuttons his suit jacket and leans against the leather seat. I give him my best what is wrong with you look and he chuckles. "Beverly, what I told your mum and sister, that's not a lie."
Confused, I ask, "Not a lie? What're you on about?"
"It's not a lie," he repeats himself and I roll my eyes at him because of course he won't admit that he lies. Who would? "I did buy a house recently. Jane told me someone's selling their house at St Edmund's terrace and I just had to buy it."
"Just had to buy it," I mutter his words under my breath. Of course to him, buying a house feels like buying a cup of coffee. "You're ridiculous."
He smiles as if being called ridiculous is a compliment. Knowing him, he probably sees it that way; he's a weird bloke, after all, I shouldn't be surprised. "The house is still being renovated," he continues as though I care about the state of his new house. "So in the mean time, you'll have to live in my place."
I'm already shaking my head because just the mere thought of having to share a place with him distresses me greatly.
"Beverly," he swivels to look at me, brows furrowing slightly. "In case you've forgotten, your sister pointed out that we're not living together. We can't let her think that this marriage isn't real."
"It isn't," I respond quickly, scowling at him when he chuckles. For some reasons, I'm scared that we aren't on the same page, that he thinks there's more to us than this fake marriage, one that should've ended as soon as we left Vegas. Alas, here we are, in the backseat of his car, arguing like a couple.
"You think I don't know that?" He quizzes rhetorically, lips curving into that infamous smirk – one that I hate so much. Leaning forward until his face is only a few inches away from mine, he pokes my nose and says, "Trust me, love, the thought of having to live with you horrifies me as well."
Instead of racking my brain for a comeback, I decide to do the second best thing: ignore him. My mum used to tell me all the time that if someone ever tries to get on my nerve, the best thing for me to do is to ignore them because eventually they'll shut up. Half of the time it works.
Today, however, the trick doesn't work.
Harry unlocks his mobile phone and his fingers hover above the screen, "Should I text you my address or do you have it already?"
"Why would I have it?" I ask him as I shift in my seat to get a better look at him. Then, as soon as he opens his mouth, I point a finger at him, "And don't you dare say it's cos I googled you. I swear to God, Harry, that's getting so so old. I googled you, so what? I bet you've googled yourself."
