Personal Assistant ➵ H.S.

16

The next few weeks carried on with no interruptions; you and Harry tried to just keep yourselves to yourselves, exchanging only necessary words of greeting and about work. It was hard - you went home every night feeling mentally and emotionally exhausted from having to act like everything was fine, when in reality every time you saw Harry you were reminded of the dull, constant pain in your heart. Emmy had been right; seeing and being around Harry again had been really hard, harder than you had expected, and you'd hoped it would have gotten better once a few days had passed, but it had been much longer than that and there was still no change.

You tried to stay positive, but you just couldn't bring yourself to see the silver lining of this particularly dark cloud. For some reason, the way you were feeling reminded you of how it felt when things fell apart with you and Damon - a constant sick feeling in your stomach combined with an extremely glum mood which was in contrast with your usual happy one. Feeling heartbroken was tiring.

Harry was feeling similar, which of course you had no idea about. He left work each day with a heavy heart, knowing how big a mistake he had made in trying to protect you from the media with another woman. Charlotte was already getting on his nerves; she had none of the spark and humour that Harry adored about you, but she was persistent and Harry was feeling so low anyway he might as well keep burying himself in her most nights to distract himself; he wasn't proud of it, but it did help to numb his feelings. To say he'd lost all hope of ever getting you back was an understatement - to him his future with you looked bleak.

Until one early evening, when he was out for a jog to try and clear his mind, he spotted Emmy on the opposite side of the road, a multitude of shopping bags in her hands, phone suspended between her neck and ear.

In a split-second decision he had crossed the road and was a few metres in front of her. When she spotted him, looking like a sad, lost puppy she quickly ended her phone call with a muttered, "Hey, somethings just come up...I'll call you later."

When she took him in - shoulders slumped, eyes framed by heavy bags, permanent crease between his eyebrows, small pout on his full lips - she furrowed her brow in sympathy, "You're struggling too, aren't you H?"

Taking a big breath he could only manage a nod in confirmation.

"C'mon, let's go grab a drink."

◇

Harry and Emmy sat next to each other at a high table by the window, sipping their smoothies.

She cleared her throat, "So, what's been going on?"

It was like a floodgate opening once Harry replied, "It's been horrible, she can hardly look at me - it's like she's turned off all emotion and can only be cold and professional with me. There's this massive space between us and I just don't know why - well I mean I do, I feel terrible for what I did...I don't even like this new girl she's nothing compared to Cecy, but I'm never gonna know what she came to say that night because I fucked it up."

Tears swam in Harry's eyes as he got his breath back after his rant. Emmy eyed him thoughtfully - Harry knew him talking to her probably made her feel like she was fraternising with the enemy, after all she was your best friend not his, but he was extremely grateful for her time.

"Okay. Listen to me carefully - because I'm only going to say this once, and I probably shouldn't even be saying it but seeing you both like this is killing me."

Harry looked at her hopefully as she continued, "Cecy was coming to tell you she felt the same, and that she felt like she'd fucked things up between you but when she saw the flowers you sent her -"