*This is part Three of a triple update! Make sure you read the previous two Chapters first!*
One Year Later
The ocean is pulling in and out, reflecting a warm orange glow from the setting sun, and all that can be heard is the rushing of waves and cawing of the birds overhead and the music playing gently from the front seat of the rusty old van.
The van had been our home for the last seven days and nights, travelling from Islington all the way up to Edinburg , stopping at little coastal towns where we surfed in each and every sea, read our books laid out on fluffy towels, collecting pebbles and shells and sea glass on every beach we set foot on. We ate dinners in tiny cafes or cooked on our little portable stove.
Each morning I'd wake on the bed Harry had built with his own hands in the back of the van, looking at the buttercup yellow roof he'd painted, and he'd kiss my jaw and laugh at me for sleeping in so late when I'd promised the night before we'd wake early to watch the sunrise.
I hadn't seen a sunrise yet this trip, but we'd seen out each and every sunset, and tonight was no different.
We lay, side by side on blankets and pillows in our little bed, our soup warming on the stove, with the back doors open; like a window to the most beautiful view I'd ever seen.
This was our last night of our road trip, before tomorrow we'd drive back to London to our new flat that still needed painting and boxes unpacking, and real life would beckon us again. Back to our jobs at the restaurant and the market, and breakfast dates on Sundays and evening strolls in the park where we'd faun over the dogs that people walked, dreaming of adopting our own soon.
Harry would teach his classes at the youth centre, and I'd bring along cake if I had the evening off, and we'd visit friends and babysit Mitch and Sarah's tiny little baby, and life would be wonderful.
Everything should be perfect. Except it wasn't.
"I'm so sorry, Riley," Harry's whispering into my hair, his lips brushing my scalp. I think he'd said it a few times, but I couldn't really be sure.
"It was always a gamble," I hear myself say. That's what Marissa, my solicitor had told me when we'd taken Jason to court. She told me that it depended a lot on character statements and witness testimony's and chasing up Jason's other girlfriends to see if any of them had stories of their own.
Two of them did. Jason had abused two further women. Or at least two felt comfortable enough to admit that to Marissa.
I'd felt paralysed with guilt when I found out. I knew that if I'd tried sooner or harder to have Jason convicted of what he did to me, then maybe those two women would never have been through what they had.
I blamed myself, and it'd left me struggling to leave my bed for almost five days. I hadn't felt like that for such a long time. A heavy, dark numbness that I'd forced myself in to to avoid the pain.
I didn't want to feel. Didn't want to think. I wanted to hide under my duvet, to shut my eyes and blink three times and go back in time so I could change everything that had happened so Jason had never hurt a soul.
At first, Harry had left me to the quiet of our room. I think he knew that I needed to switch off for a while. That it was too much for me to process. But when one day turned into two, then three then four, he stepped in. On the fifth day, he got me out of bed and he made me shower and he dried my hair and painted my nails and told me we were taking a trip in Cyndi.
Seven blissful days of the road and sea and sun and rain and music on a crackly stereo with my favourite person in the world.
No court cases, no solicitors, no boxes to unpack and furniture to build.
Just me and Harry and our music; the way it always had been.
So when, this evening, just as the sun burned orange and dipped into the sea on the horizon, I'd gotten a phone call from Marissa, I knew it was bad news.
I felt it in the air that burned my lungs and the tremor that rattled my fingers.
"Not enough evidence."
That's all that had gone in, what other reams of legal jargon she prattled off to me fell to the wayside. He'd gotten away with it. He would live his life, breathing the same air as the ones he'd hurt, with no repercussion, because I hadn't been braver quick enough.
I was aware at some point that Harry had taken the phone from me, and that he was talking to Marissa in a hushed voice, before he came back to me and wrapped me in his arms.
"The other girls," Harry says, stroking his fingers up and down my arm. "They just weren't ready to talk. To see him again."
I nod. I understand. But it still hurts.
"Maybe one day," I look up to him, my words more of question or a plea. A beg for hope that Harry answers with a smile that neither of us believes.
"Maybe one day."
*
Six Months Later
I stare at the dress hung on the back of the door, and I'm not sure I've ever seen such a beautiful dress in my life.
Delicate, swirling lace and crystals and tulle and all things magical that you could ever wish for in a wedding dress.
I catch my reflection in the mirror, and I realise I'm crying.
"Oh Jesus Christ, don't start!" Sarah warns me through the mirror, where Lucy is pinning flowers into the back of her hair. "I've paid a disgusting amount of money for this make up, if you make me cry and ruin it then I'm divorcing you as my friend."
I giggle, and dab my nose on a tissue, careful not to smudge my own makeup.
"You're just the most beautiful bride," I tell her, "And you don't even have your dress on yet."
"When did you get so sentimental?" Lucy quirks a brow at me, and I'm tempted to flip her off, but Sarah's mother is in the room and so I refrain.
I'm about to say something back, when there's a knock at the door. Sarah startles, looking between everyone in the bridal party, realising that everyone who should be here already is.
"Don't worry," I tell her when I see panic begin to rise in her expression. "I'll get it."
I hurry to the door of the hotel room we're in, trying both to not trip on the silk of my dress or the heels I wasn't accustomed to wearing, and inch it open just enough so that I can peak who it is.
When I open the door, I see it's Krish, looking stressed and sweaty in his maroon suit.
"What is it?" I hiss, slipping out into the hallway and clicking the door shut behind me. "Sarah's getting ready still. Shouldn't you be with Mitch? Is everything okay?"
"I was with Mitch," he sighs, pulling a hand down his face. "It's Harry, he's-"
I huff. "Let me guess, being a dick?"
Krish scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. "Yeah, kind of. It's bringing the mood down. Can you just talk to him?"
I chew my lip, my arms crossed over one another. I didn't want to talk to him. The truth was, we'd been arguing ever since last night, and it'd all blown up in the van on the way to the wedding this morning. But I wouldn't have him putting a dampener on Mitch and Sarah's day because he couldn't put his ego aside for one day.
"Okay, sure," I sigh and Krish sags in relief. "Just give me a second."
I poke my head back around the door, and see Sarah is almost done with her hair.
"I'm just nipping out for a minute. I won't be long," I tell my friend.
Her brows pinch in. "Is everything okay?"
"Fine! Everything is totally fine, I just...need to speak to the catering people," I lie. "I'll be right back."
Sarah nods, that same worried frown creasing her head, but I give her a small grin before slipping back out into the corridor, and follow Krish to where Mitch and the grooms party are getting ready.
"Go get him then," I order Krish.
I wait a long couple of minutes, where I can't hear much beyond the door, until Harry's voice begins to come in to focus.
"Okay, okay, I'm going!" I hear his muffled rasp, before the door swings open and he steps out in front of me. "What?!"
"Don't 'what' me," I snap, feeling the remnants of heat from our argument this morning begin to sizzle back to the surface. "Krish has had to come and get me because you're being a wanker."
Harry stuffs his hands into the pockets of his navy suit, his brows pushed together.
"M'not being a wanker," he grumbles.
"Yes-" I say, ripping one of his hands from his pocket and gripping it in my own. "-you are. Or else he wouldn't have insisted I come down here."
I pull him along the corridor, but Harry is dragging his feet. "Where are we going?"
"To sort this out," I say back, looking for a secluded corridor or corner far away from our friends' hotel rooms. "Without an audience."
I keep walking, pulling Harry along behind me, until I see a set of French doors leading out onto a small courtyard and I hurry us outside, closing the doors behind us. I drop Harry's hand and fold my arms, him taking much the same stance, leaning back against the brick wall with a sullen expression.
"So?" I say expectantly.
"So what?" He mutters back, his eyes narrowed. Those narrowed eyes focus on my face for a moment, then my hair until they slide down the length of my body, to the sage green bridesmaid gown that's wrapped around my body.
I clear my throat, and Harry's eyes snap back to my own, where I see him swallow.
"You, uh - you look nice. By the way," he says, almost reluctantly, like a sulky teenager.
"You can't compliment your way out of this," I sigh. "You've been a prick ever since last night and-"
"I've been a prick?!" He cuts me off. "Why? Because I was looking out for you? Not wanting you to get hurt, or taken advantage of? For trying to protect you from-"
"I don't need you to protect me! I need you to support me, Harry!"
He scoffs, running a hand over his freshly shaven jaw.
"All I've done is support you. I never judged you once. When you were drinking, when you were going through the court case with Jason. Never once did I tell what to do, I supported what ever decision you wanted to make. So maybe if I am giving you my opinion for once, it's for good reason. And I think you're making a fucking mistake this time."
My eyes are stinging, I can feel tears threatening but I have to blink them away; again, not wanting to ruin the makeup that Sarah had paid for all of the bridesmaids to have done.
"I get all of that," I say, trying to keep the waiver out of my voice. "I understand that you're doing all of this because you care for me. But this is my decision to make, Harry. She's my mum."
Harry's face softens, but only for a beat, before he's scowling again, shaking his head to himself in frustration.
"She wasn't there for you Riley. She never was," he says lowly.
"I know," I nod. "But when she reached out, she was so sorry-"
"Is sorry enough though?" He interrupts me sharply. "Does sorry make up for basically ignoring your existence your entire life? For allowing Jason to do what he did to you? Every time you were sick, or depressed or just fucking lonely, where was she? Sorry isn't enough for all of the hurt she's caused you."
A tear escapes me, I can't help it, but I do my best to pat it away.
"It was enough for you." I croak. "After everything I did. You forgave me."
Harry's jaw tenses, before he sighs, his head dipping and his hair falling down into his face. He kept saying he needed to cut it, but I think he knew I loved the way it curled the longer it grew, so he hadn't touched it yet.
"Riley," he says tiredly, softly. He reaches foreword, tangling his large hand with my small one and pulls me close. "What happened with us just isn't the same as what went on with your parents. We were just kids when all of that happened. They weren't. They should have known better. They should have done everything in their power to love you, to protect you. And they didn't. They chose to do the opposite, even though they could see how much you were suffering. I don't want to have to see you go through that again."
I shake my head, sniffling. "I know all of that. It's just...we're getting older, Harry. Life is changing and our friends are all getting married or having kids and...you know, that could be us one day. And I know this sounds pathetic, but I'm not sure I want to go through all of that without having a mother."
"You have mothers in your life, Ry," Harry says, tucking a coiled piece of my hair behind my ear. He rests his hand against my jaw, and I lean in to it in search of comfort. "You have my mum, who fucking worships the ground you walk on. You have Janis, who loves you as much as she loves Lucy. And you know, Sarah's a mum now. You have all of these women who love you, I'm just not sure you'll get what you're looking for from your Mum."
"Maybe not," I shrug. "You might be right, this might all blow up in my face and I might get hurt, but I just...I want to try. And I need you to be there with me whilst I go through this."
"You know I will be," he says into my hair, pressing a kiss to my forehead. "You know I'm here no matter what. I just...I don't want you to get hurt."
I chuckle. "You can't wrap me up like that Harry. Life is shit sometimes, we're both going to get hurt by things at some point, and make mistakes. But we just need to be there to help pick the other one up. We're a team."
Harry pulls back, and I can still see the echoes of frustration and trepidation about the matter lingering in the crease between his eyebrows. But he's softened up, his thumbs rubbing circles against the bottom of my spine.
"Okay," he sighs. "Call your mum. I'll stop being a wanker, as you so kindly put it."
I snort. "Apparently you were 'killing the mood' in Mitch's room."
Harry grumbles to himself, pulling me even closer, his arms still wrapped around me. His lips find my bare shoulder, and he nuzzles into my neck.
"Just hate it when we fight," he says, his voice muffled.
"I know. Me too." I hum, his lips working their way up my neck. My hands find his soft hair, and I coil it around my fingers.
"Think we've got enough time to make up properly?" He breathes into the shell of my ear, and a shiver works it's way down my back. "You really do look fucking great in this dress."
"Harry-"
"Come on Buttercup," he coos in my ear, slipping a strap down from my shoulder and gliding his knuckles along it, goosebumps springing in their wake. "Let me make you feel good. Let me show you how sorry I am. I'll make it quick, no one will even know we're-"
"Oi! Styles!" We both turn with a start, to see an unusually dapper looking Louis peaking out of the door at us.
"For fuck sake," Harry mutters under his breath. "Why is it always him?"
"Be nice," I warn. Lucy had broken up with him a few weeks ago, and Louis wasn't taking it very well. Today is the first time they were seeing each other since the split, so I'd warned Harry already he needed to keep Louis occupied.
"What it is Louis?" Harry says, attempting to sound calm but annoyance is still rife in his tone.
"It's nearly time, we need to get going," Louis says, tapping the watch on his wrist for emphasis.
Harry turns to me, with a sulky little pout.
"Rain check?" He asks, and I giggle.
"Go on, go do best man duties," I push him away.
Harry is about to disappear behind the door with Louis, before he doubles back and pulls me into a kiss. It's hard, and passionate and despite us being on a time crunch I pull him closer.
"That's better," he says against my lips. "I love you, Buttercup."
"I love you," I tell him. "Now go."
*
Our bellies are full, wine is flowing freely between all of the guests glasses, and the sun is just starting to set behind the long top table of the wedding.
Harry turns to me, giving my leg a quick squeeze before he pushes out his chair and gets to his feet. When he unfolds the speech he's written, it trembles in his hand, and my heart clenches at the sight of his nerves.
"Good evening everyone," he says, clearing his throat and the chatter of wedding guests peters down to silence. His eyes dart across the room at all of the faces watching him, before he glances down at me with a timid smile. I give him a reassuring one back, and with a big breath, he starts.
"I'm Harry, Mitch's long suffering best friend-" the crowd rumbles with laughter, and Harry's shoulders seem to relax. "I could spend the next ten minutes - or hours, in fact - regaling all of Mitch's most embarrassing moments. And there's a lot of them, trust me. But none of that feels fitting to the day we've all spent together. A day celebrating the love of two of the best people in my life. So instead, I'm going to talk about what Sarah and Mitch mean to me, and what we can all take away from a love like theirs.
When we first met Sarah, almost six years ago now, none of us expected her to go for Mitch. He was sullen and moody and kind of hard to read, that's without mentioning that questionable goatee he was sporting at the time. Sarah was bright, and loud and had a laugh that seemed to rattled you down to your bones.
So when, at the end of the night, when we were readying to leave that party, we were stunned to see them in the corner, chatting over cheap bottles of cider. Even more surprised to see that Mitch was smiling.
Loving Mitch, as a friend, as a brother, sometimes seemed like loving a grizzly bear. Soft and cuddly, but easy to piss off. Sarah made loving Mitch seem like the easiest thing in the world. Like breathing. Like betting on the sun rising in the morning, or the stars shining at night. From the moment they fell, it was a given that they'd last. That they'd found that mysterious thing we all spend so long searching for ourselves. True love.
True Love, I've come to learn from my friends, isn't all about passion and lust and attraction. At its very core, it's about friendship. Finding someone that you're excited to wake up to every morning, no matter how bad they snore or how they hog the covers," he pauses to glance down at me, and I roll my eyes.
"Finding someone, that will love you at your worst, and be in awe of at how you pick yourself up each time, and support you to reach your best.
Sarah and Mitch have shown me all of that. That love is scary, but it doesn't have to be difficult. Not when you've found the right person."
Harry heaves a breath, and folds his paper back up.
"So. If we could all raise our glasses, in awe and astonishment of one of the greatest examples of love there is. Mitch, I love you, brother. Sarah, thank you so much for taking him off my hands. To Mitch and Sarah everyone."
"To Mitch and Sarah!"
Tiny hands are pulling at me lower lip, my lipstick likely all over my chin, but I can't care when there's a chubby, toothy baby in my arms giggling away.
"Yep, they're my teeth," I say awkwardly with an almost six month olds fingers in my mouth. "I have lots of them. You still only have two, and it's the cutest thing in the world. It is! It is!"
I bounce baby Poppy on my hip, unable to keep the smile off of my face when she giggles at the movement. She looks exactly like Sarah, and is the sweetest baby I think I'd ever met.
"What is your Auntie Ry doing to you?" A deep voice appears over my shoulder, and Poppy's face lights up at her favourite person - besides her parents of course.
"And Uncle Harry steels the show," I say, handing Poppy into his arms when she begins leaning forward for him.
"What?" He giggles when I narrow my eyes at him. "I can't help it if she likes me more."
"You didn't have to come steal her from me," I pout. "We were having fun."
Harry rolls his eyes at me, and begins fussing over Poppy, bouncing her on his hip and tickling under her chin. I can't pretend to be mad at him, not when his hair is flopping around his ears, his suit jacket long abandoned and shirt sleeves rolled up his tan, tattooed arms. To top it all off, he's holding a baby. My ovaries are on their knees.
"What?" He smirks when he catches me eyeing him.
I shrug. "Nothing. You're cute is all."
"Cute?" He asks. "Are you sure that's it?"
We're interrupted momentarily by Sarah's mother, Mandy, who's appeared to come take Poppy home for the evening. We spend entirely too long cooing over the baby, giving her kisses goodnight. When it's just the two of us, Harry pulls me along to the dance floor, closing his arms around me as we dance together.
"So," he says. "You think I'm cute, Hm?"
I roll my eyes. "You're very cute Harry."
He chuckles, and leans into my ear. "I think it's something else."
"Like what?"
Harry kisses my cheek, then my jaw, then nips my ear before he whispers in to it. "I think you want to have my babies, Buttercup."
I don't say anything, all I can do is swallow as I try to ignore the cluster of butterflies swarming my lower stomach.
"Do you want me to put a baby in to you?" He breathes at the side of me, his hands dancing up my sides and sending chills all over me. "Come on, Honey. Don't go quiet on me now."
I gulp, feeling a flush start on my cheeks and work it's way down on to my chest. I pull back a fraction and force myself to look in to his eyes.
"Do you want that?" I ask nervously. Harry and I had discussed kids abstractly, I knew he definitely wanted them at some point. But there was never a timeline discussed for when that stage would be in our lives.
Harry smiles, the devious look in his eyes filtering out for something softer, something more loving.
"Of course I want that," he says. "I want it all with you, Riley. I want to marry you, and buy houses with you and watch your belly grow with our babies. I want to rush to do school runs and teach them to play guitar and watch you make a mess in the kitchen when you bake with them."
I smile, but still feel those nerves. "But do you want all of that now? We haven't been together even two years, and-"
"Riley," he stops me. "I loved you for a long time. A really long fucking time. I don't care how long we've been together. I don't see why we should wait, if it's what we both want. Stop taking your pill."
I huff out a shaky breath, but I'm grinning. "You're sure?"
"Positive. Plus," he says, that heated gaze glossing over his eyes again, "Maybe you'll start calling me daddy like I keep asking-"
"Okay, you're ridiculous," I laugh. Harry beams, and we sway to the music for a while longer.
*
Two Years Later
"Tillie, come on, it's time to go."
I pull my daughter up from the sandpit, and she wails out in frustration, her little legs kicking as I try to set her on my hip.
Having a one year old was hard - harder than Sarah and Mitch ever made it look with Poppy. Harry and I never really took it in when they'd tell us about the terrors of teething, and sleepless nights and hours of pacing a dark house trying to settle a sick or overtired baby. But god she was worth it.
Tillie screeches, gripping my hair as I attempt to grab my changing bag with my free hand.
"I know, I know you're sad. But we need to go meet Daddy and Uncle Mitch. And Poppy! You want to see Poppy right?"
"Riley?"
I look up at the unfamiliar voice that's called my name, seeing a blonde woman with her own toddler in her arms. She blinks at me, a sheepish look on her face.
"Uhm - I'm sorry, have we met?" I say, finally tugging my hair from Tillie's grip and popping her stuffed lamb into her hands instead.
"It's Cara?" The woman says. "From school?"
Oh.
Oh.
This girl, years ago, had once been my friend - or at least pretended to be one. She was the girl to shoo Harry away when we'd been dress shopping for Prom.
"Hi Cara," I say awkwardly. "It's, uh...it's been a while. How are you?"
Cara smiles sweetly - a smile I don't think I'd ever seen from her all those years ago.
"I'm fine. You know, elbow deep in the throws of motherhood. Is this little one yours?" She asks, nodding to Tillie who has tired herself out and resting her head in the crook of her neck.
"She is," I nod.
"She's adorable," Cara coos. "This is one of mine, Isabelle. She's just turned two."
"This is Matilda," I say, kissing the top of Tillie's dark curls. "She one."
Fifteen minutes later, with two sleeping babies in strollers, Cara and I are walking the same way home from the park. Turns out she lives not far from us.
"So are you married or single or?" She asks as we stroll side by side.
"Engaged," I confirm, holding up my finger and showing off the thin band and cluster of shiny rocks.
Cara grins. "Nice! Who's the lucky guy? Anyone from school?"
"It's Harry."
I see Cara's face pale, before a blush overtake it.
"Harry? As in...as in that kid you got expelled from school?"
I nod. "Mhm. Been together a few years now. But it was always him, you know?"
Cara blows out a puff of air. "Wow. Who'd have known?"
I shrug. "I think we both knew. I always loved him, even back then. We just took the scenic route to get here."
Cara laughs. "I'm happy for you. You know...I'm sorry. For the way things were at school. For not believing you when-"
"You don't have to do that, Cara," I interrupt her with a frown. "Really. It was all shit back then, and we all did things we regret. I've moved on. It's really okay."
Cara swallows, and nods her head, us falling in to silence for a while.
"I...I didn't know if you were free. Next week maybe?" She says as I tell her we're at my house. "I don't really have many mum friends. Would you maybe want a play date or something?"
I look at Cara, and I try to remember the girl from school. But, with time, the small moments I'd spent with her and the other girls had grown faded. What Jason did to me would never leave me, but it no longer defined me. The mistakes I'd made, the hurt I'd both caused and endured, didn't exist at the forefront of my existence any more.
I'd spent years being angry. Years holding my pain above any other emotion, to scared to let anything in that may hurt me.
But that wasn't me anymore. I'd learned to let love in to my life, to forgive and where I couldn't forgive I'd learned to let go.
Before I can respond, the yellow front door to our house opens, and Harry appears.
"There's my girls!" He grins, coming out to wrap an arm around me and press a kiss to my cheek. "Fun at the park?"
"Mhm. Bumped into Cara," I say, and Harry turns to look at the woman beside me.
Harry's eyes don't seem to spark with an recognition, but he smiles kindly, and lifts a hand in a wave.
"Hey. Nice to meet you."
Cara's cheeks burn, and I know it's because even though Harry doesn't remember her, she remembers the way she treated him.
"You too. Riley, I'll just...I'll just go."
"Okay," I smile. She begins to head away, before I call out to her. "Cara! How's Wednesday next week?"
Cara turns, and a smile peaks up on her face. "Works for me."
We exchange numbers, and flit with the idea of coffee at mine and Harry's place, before she's heading back off the road.
Harry's wheeled the pushchair into the house by this point, Matilda still sleeping peacefully, when I let myself in. I can hear Mitch and Poppy running around in the garden, squealing with laughter as they run away from Morrissey, our scrappy old dog we'd rescued the same month I found out I was pregnant with Matilda.
"Who was that?" Harry asks, snaking his arms around my waist as we enter the kitchen.
"An old friend from school."
Harry's brows pull together briefly, before I see his features relax. It was still within his nature to want to protect me, to make sure I was making sensible decisions. But ever since the relationship with my mother had mended over the last few years, and he'd been proven wrong, he seemed to trust me a little better to make those decisions on my own.
"Okay," he smiles, pressing a kiss to my hair. "How are you feeling?"
I sigh, resting my head against his shoulder. "Tired. And sick. I kind of wish I was sick, instead of just feeling like I might be constantly."
"I know," Harry whispers, his hands trailing down to rest against my lower stomach. "It'll all be worth it though. Matilda was."
"I know," I breathe. "It's just...I don't know. This time just seems harder. Every little twinge or stomach ache, and I start panicking that it'll happen again, that we'll loose this one too and -"
"I know," Harry pulls me close. "I know. I'm scared too. But whatever happens with this little one, we'll make it through. We'll make it through together. Okay?"
I nod, and press my head into Harry's chest, where his skin is warm and his heart thuds beneath my ear, and I let him hold me close.
"Always us," I say.
"Always us, Buttercup."
Annnnd that's a wrap! Thank you so much to everyone who ever read, voted and commented, I love you all deeply. I've loved writing Buttercup, it's been such a joy for the last few months!
But here's on to new and exciting things. I have a new story in the works, that I'm hoping to start posting in the next few weeks, so keep an eye out!
N x