Friends With Benefits [H.S]

Part 29

“I’m a big girl, Harry, I’ll live.”  I rolled my eyes but smiled at his concern for me.  What a change it was.  The abruptness of his turn around still startled me, too.  It was like one day he’d been dark and quiet and keeping to himself, abandoning me at home to seek his kicks from a bottle – the next I woke up to a mug of tea by my bedside and a tender kiss to my temple, a whisper of his love before he tended to my every need.

The night Niall had stayed with me while I was sick.  I thought maybe the blonde boy had said something to him, influenced him in some spectacular way that had brought about this meteoric change in him.  I had never had the chance to ask.  Niall wasn’t round often now – Harry didn’t like him being around me, for whatever reason.

He put up an argument for another short while, before finally accepting the facts I fought heatedly that I was perfectly capable of walking to the front door unaided, that the fans didn’t bother me, and that I could indeed carry my own handbag without straining myself.  I hopped awkwardly out of the Range Rover to what Harry had predicted – a deafening eruption of screams – before I waddled like an uncoordinated penguin across the crunching snow, the ground and every plant, wall, pavement sparkling with frost.  It was dusk, the sky darkening and the Styles’ front window twinkled brightly with lights of all colours, the tree glistening in the sitting room.  I ambled up to the front door and pushed the bell gently.  I glanced over my shoulder to see Harry struggling adorably with the two heaving cases, mine and his, unable to get the handle on one to contract down again.  I allowed myself a quiet giggle at him, with his squinting eyes peering out from beneath the hood of his charcoal black coat that I’d used as a blanket while I slept on the way here.  It had smelled like him.  Like home.

I looked around as the door rattled and swung open, Harry’s beaming mother ushering me inside with an excited squeal as Harry joined me on the doorstep.  “You’re here!  Ah, you’ve gotten so big Tamara!”

I was tugged inside, the warmth of the house hitting me like a wave.  Everything was so festive, the coloured lights and flashes of tinsel from inside the living room complimented perfectly by the sounds of some cheesy Christmas feeling blaring on the TV.  Me and Harry hadn’t even bothered with a tree in our new house in London – I didn’t see the point when we’d be here for the big day, anyway.

“I know,” I replied with a small smile, patting my bump through my jacket, “It’s becoming very difficult to move around!”

“Well, you’re glowing!” she replied enthusiastically.  Her arms pulled me into a warm hug, and I was startled at first but soon settled into her embrace.  I suppose she was family now, after all.  My little one’s grandma.  I smiled at the thought, of my baby visiting here and tottering about as Anne cooed over her son’s first born.  It would be picture perfect if my heart didn’t still feel a flash of cold resentment when he pressed his lips to mine.

She turned her attention to a struggling Harry who was wrestling the suitcases into the hallway, cursing ferociously under his breath.  She flashed him a stern look as he settled the black cases to the wall and looked up, wiping his brow tiredly and kicking the front door closed behind him, blocking out the din of the faint screaming immediately.  “You shouldn’t be swearing around the baby, Harry.”  She teased him with a light smirk and Harry rolled his eyes but smiled all the while.

“Sorry baby,” he apologised, pressing his front to my back and reaching around my round frame to pat my stomach in a request for forgiveness.  I rested my head briefly back onto his shoulder, trying to swallow the lump in my throat.  Trying to clear the memories of his empty eyed expression of the last few weeks.

“Any names yet?!” I heard Gemma call from the kitchen, an obvious tone of curiosity to her voice.  I peeked up at Harry over my shoulder, seeing his lost expression as we both realised that we hadn’t even talked about it yet.  We hadn’t found the time.  Because he had never been home, and we’d hardly been talking.