In The Assistant, Becky Holte met the renowned and cold lawyer, Harry Styles. She went from being his personal assistant to best friend to coworker in the span of a few years. Now, 'dating her boss' has been added to the list with the possibility of...
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"Your heart and my heart are very old friends."
— Hafiz
*
Many Years Later . .
Lyrics from a Bob Dylan song follow me as I travel around the kitchen. Bubbly laughter spikes above the music now and then. The smell of garlic tickles at my nose as I stop in front of the sink. After rinsing off a knife, I set it on the laid out towel. My eyes often float above me and to the window where the sight before me sparks a smile on my lips.
The song ends and changes to an Elvis Presley tune, curving my lips into a smile as I set plates down on the table. I have to go back and forth between the cabinets and the table until I have six places set, sippy cups and all.
"Hi, sweet girl. Are you hungry too?" my voice raises an octave when I scratch behind the dog's golden ears. "I wish Daddy would stop putting your food on the bottom shelf, I can't get it any more," she ignores me and begins to devour her food. Sighing, I stand back up straight with a hand pressed to my aching back.
"Shall I stay? Would it be a sin, if I can't help falling in love with you," the song floats around the kitchen smelling of tomatoes, onions, and pasta. For a moment, I stop and let myself melt in the multitudes of memories this song stirs up.
A groan leaves me when I almost trip over a toy car on my way to fill the dog's water dish. I manage to kick it the side and out of the way, knowing that if I bent over to pick it up, I most likely wouldn't be able to get back up.
"Need any help, Mum?" a voice calls to me from the other side of the window.
"No, I'm okay, love. Thank you! Dinner should be ready soon, once Daddy gets home!" I answer them, loading another dirty dish into the dishwasher. An electronic beeps sounds from across the room, and my feet begin to pad towards it.
I pass a wall of black and white pictures after changing the laundry. A smile sits on my lips as I admire them and how much they've grown already, but I'm interrupted by an alarm going off.
"Alexa, turn alarm off," I call and the electronic device resumes the last few lines of the Elvis song.
Stopping in front of the window again, I rest my hands on the kitchen sink, hearing the clank of my rings against the metal basin. A happy hum fills my chest when I hear an echo of the song behind me, slowly getting closer. A jolt of electricity flows through me when I feel arms go around my waist.
"Hi, bug. 'm home," a voice rasps from behind me. A calm washes over me that I was without all day. It's punctuated by the kiss pressed to the top of my head, and the hand full of rings that caresses my round stomach. "If I can't help falling in love with you . . . "
