I was setting tables at our restaurant. Yes, it’s ours- me and Danny’s- now. We re-re-vamped Carlo’s pervy feel to the place and even renamed it: The Castle of Gold. Dad always wanted me, Danny and mom to live in a castle with knights and gold. That was why he got himself mixed up with nasty creeps like Carlo.
And what’s more, now that I had my knight, we might as well have a castle.
But maybe I don’t have my knight anymore. Maybe Harry is really angry at me and it’s going to take more than a quiet, innocent “Bambi” glance to get us back together.
Harry was in the kitchen, baking desserts to Niall’s heart’s content. Niall helped me and Danny re-arrange the menus to include mom’s classics and dad’s favorites. But even with all the changes, changes that I’m sure mom and dad would be proud of, I still wish they could be here to see it themselves.
I shook away a fantasy where my dad was in his suit of titanium armor and my mom had her wings and they were holding me and Danny’s hands, hugging us, kissing us, telling us that they were coming back.
But they weren’t and the more I thought and dreamt about it, the more obsessed I became. I was at a relative peace with their deaths, but that didn’t mean I wished they could be here now. They deserved to be here. But just because someone deserves something doesn’t mean they will get it.
I turned my attention back to Harry, whose chef’s hat was a skew over his mop of curls. I pushed at the swinging door and walked into the kitchen. Harry didn’t dare move a millimeter from frosting his famous chocolate cupcakes.
I washed my hands by the sink that was close to him and watched him working for a moment. He worked both here and at the children’s hospital (they started to actually pay him instead of use him as a volunteer).
Holding the bar of soap in my hands, I squeezed slightly too hard and it slipped out of my hands.
Harry looked up quickly, slightly frightened by the sudden noise.
When he saw that it was me, he sighed loudly
“Angie, the whole glaring thing isn’t working out” he told me. He put his spatula down and took a step closer to me.
I moved a step back.
“I don’t care” I retorted and turned back to the restaurant tables.
I felt a hand- Harry’s hand- take mine.
I pulled away.
“Angie, come on, you can’t be mad at me forever” he told me in his deep rasp.
“Watch me” I told him coldly and turned away.
He laughed, amused by my “angry” words.
“Ok” he grinned and I could almost smell him winking.
I started bussing tables, tables that weren’t even dirty. There weren’t that many customers since it was 3 in the afternoon on a Monday, so I didn’t even get to busy myself and ignore Harry when he glanced up at me every so often.
I don’t know how, but I ended up carrying a huge load of dishes. I think I had accumulated every single cup, plate and fork in the whole place.
I could feel whatever muscles were in my arms- shaking with the weight of the dishes. Quickly, I made my way to the kitchen, praying I would get to the sink before I made the biggest fool of myself.
Harry must have heard my wobbly entrance because I saw the dimples cut into his cheeks. God, those dimples drove me crazy- both types of crazy.
Slowly, carefully, I walked to the sink.
Harry strode to me and reached his arms out to hold onto the tray of dishes.
“I got it” I told him stubbornly.
But he ignored me and lifted the hefty tray with one hand and with such ease that made me feel as weak as Bambi.
He set it down in the sink and started doing the dishes.
“What are you doing?” I asked him, not bothering to hide my annoyance at his kindness. It made it that much more difficult to be mad at him.
“Dishes” he replied with a smirk.
“This doesn’t change anything” I warned him in a wavering voice.
Harry laughed, almost amused by my continued anger.
“It’s not funny” I told him as I crossed my arms over my chest.
“It is to me, babe” he winked.
“Don’t call me ‘babe”’ I “warned.”
Harry laughed again.
“What should I call you, Angel?” he asked innocently, but with his devilish smirk.
“Don’t call me angel” I told him harshly.
Then he was quiet, but he was smiling to himself and watching me force myself to stay angry. And failing miserably.
He finished the dishes and returned to his cupcakes.
“Angie, come on, I know you’re angry, but can you at least help me with these cupcakes? I’ve gotta finish about a dozen in a dozen seconds” he asked of me quietly.
I looked at him sheepishly, debating between quietly helping him and loudly ignoring him.
I took a half step closer and he took my wrist, tugging me to where he stood.
“This doesn’t change anything” I warned him as I took one of the cupcakes and began frosting it. I looked at Harry’s curls for a moment, remembering how I once tried to make the frosting mimic the perfect chaos of his hair.
In my split-second distraction, Harry flicked a spoonful of chocolate on my neck.
“Oops” he grinned.
“Hey! I’m not playing around” I protested.
He took a dangerously mischievous step closer.
“Come on, Angie” he purred.
I shook my head and grabbed a napkin to start wiping the frosting off before he got other ideas.
“Angela” he taunted in a half-whisper as he dipped his finger in the chocolate frosting and brought it up close to my lips.
I pushed his hand away.
“Stop it, Harry” I told him calmly.
He licked the frosting off his finger.
“Umm. Tastes pretty good, but it needs a special ingredient” he winked.
He took another step closer to me.
I shook my head and folded my arms over my chest.
Harry sighed in pretend defeat.
I returned my attention to work and started putting the dishes away.
The moment my hands were free of dishes, Harry came around behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist.
I tried to shrug him off. He kissed my shoulder softly.
“Harry, stop it” I nagged in annoyance.
His little antics were making me look both pathetic and stupid, not to mention make being mad at him that much harder.
Someone slammed the kitchen door open.
Harry turned around and stood in front of me protectively.
We both sighed in relief when we saw that it was only Niall.
“Where the hell is the vodka? Table 3 needs strong ass German vodka, stat!” he demanded.
“It should be in the third shelf of the cabinet” Harry told him.
“Aight” Niall nodded and he started to head over to the liquor cabinet. Then he stopped and looked over at me and Harry again.
“Aren’t you two supposed to be fighting?” he asked with a wink.
Harry took my hand in his.
I pulled mine away.
“We are” I replied in frustration. No we weren’t; I was just being annoying and Harry was trying to distract me from my anger at him.
“Interesting fighting tactics. What do you guys do when you’re not angry?” he asked curiously. Then he shook his head and tried to clear some unwanted images.
Harry laughed.
I pushed at his shoulder.
He stood that much closer.
“Angie” he pleaded innocently. He tried my eye trick on me and I almost fell for it. He moved a loose lock of hair form my face, softly, gently. I avoided his eyes and the fact that his red lips were just an inch away.
“I have work” I lied.
No one was at the restaurant, but I didn’t care. I was angry at Harry and I was going to continue to be angry until he explained to me why he wouldn’t come to my goddamn graduation. I would hold this grudge for nine months if I had to, like growing baby.
I shook my head as images of having Harry’s children came to mind…