I found myself humming as I poured a steaming cup of coffee and set it down on the tray, right beside a dish full of scrambled eggs, toast, and fruit I'd already plated. Some of the coffee spilled, and I breathed a curse as I set the pot down, already reaching for a napkin to catch the drips along the side of the cup.
I was rushing more than I probably should've been, but it wasn't often Harry slept later than me, and it was much less often that I actually managed to surprise him somehow.
Breakfast in bed on Christmas morning felt like the perfect way to do that.
By some miracle, I'd woken up half an hour ago—slid out from under his arm, slipped on one of his t-shirts, and managed to make it out to the kitchen and cook without him waking. I was certainly counting my blessings, because somehow, Harry always beat me to these kinds of romantic gestures. But not today.
Today—it was my turn.
Tongue poking out of my mouth, I lifted the tray, watching carefully as the coffee tilted in the cup, praying none of it would spill over the side again. When it didn't, I started moving. Very slowly. Inching my way around the counter, out of the kitchen, to the hallway. And everything was going well.
Until it wasn't.
"Merry Christmas," his groggy voice said, and I was so focused on not spilling the coffee that I jumped, gasped, startled to hear him, and now, see him standing there in front of me.
Shirtless. In his boxers. Curly hair a mess.
Sleepy eyes. Pink lips.
Smiling.
"No," I whined, heart racing, practically stomping a foot to see him up and out of bed, annoyed that my plan was ruined and that a good portion of his coffee was now sliding this way and that on the tray beneath the dishes.
"What?" he asked, rubbing an eye before glancing at the tray in my hands. His smile returned. "That for me?"
"No," I said again, angling the tray like I might be able to get his coffee back in the cup. "I mean... yes, but I wanted it to be breakfast in bed, and now that's ruined."
Smile quickly becoming a smirk, Harry hooked a thumb back in the direction of our bedroom. "I can just get back into bed, Mads."
"Yeah, but it's not the same," I said, more resigned now, disappointment seeping into my words. "It was supposed to be the start of your Christmas gift."
Harry's brows lifted, and his smile turned crooked. "Oh, the start, huh?"
I rolled my eyes, but smiled. "What, you didn't get enough last night?"
"I could never get enough of you, my girl." He stepped closer to me, reaching out to take the tray.
"Ah, ah." I held it away from him. "Get back in bed." Then, I looked up at him. "You're not the only one capable of nice, romantic gestures."
Harry breathed a chuckle, leaned forward, and pressed his lips to mine. "Yeah, but I am the only one capable of pulling them off."
He was laughing and hurrying back into our bedroom before I could figure out what to do with the tray to hit him. But when he looked over his shoulder at me, still smiling, green eyes gleaming, I couldn't even be upset.
I couldn't be anything but completely and hopelessly in love with him.
The butterflies stayed with me as I headed back into the kitchen, hurrying to clean up the mess of coffee on the tray and refill his cup. And I felt them continue to flutter their wings as I headed back to the bedroom, this time, not as careful to be quiet.
He was sitting up in bed, the white blanket covering his legs and reaching up just a bit around his waist, his tattooed chest on full display. He looked only marginally more awake, but that just made my heart thump a little harder.
"Wow! Breakfast in bed! What a great Christmas gift!" he exclaimed.
"Shut up," I muttered, unable to keep from laughing. "If it's cold, it's your fault."
"How is it my fault?"
"Because you made me spill the coffee!"
I set the tray down on his lap.
"Where's yours?"
Hands on my hips, too busy being relieved to have made it without incident this time, I felt my brow furrow.
"I don't want to eat breakfast in bed alone on Christmas morning, even if it is part of my Christmas gift." He sounded so earnestly concerned, I couldn't help but laugh.
"I'm getting mine now." I was about to walk away when I felt him grab my hand.
His smile had softened when I looked at him. "Merry Christmas, my girl."
The butterflies in my stomach took off and fluttered up around my heart. "Merry Christmas, Harry."
I leaned over to kiss him and felt the kiss all the way down to my toes.
"Thank you," he whispered when it was over.
I grinned, reaching a hand up to his hair before pecking his forehead. "You're welcome. Be right back."
It wasn't easy leaving him, even knowing it would only take a couple minutes to plate my own breakfast and fix my coffee, so I did everything as quickly as I could.
Things had been... so good these last few months. Busy, but... our relationship had deepened. Intensified somehow. As if marriage had finally decided to sprinkle some sort of fairy dust over us. As if it had decided that because of everything we'd already faced together, we deserved to fall even more in love with each other a year in.
Not even a year. Our first anniversary wasn't until February. But so much had happened since our wedding. So much had changed.
And a lot of it wasn't fair. Losing that baby—we'd had to face parts of ourselves, of each other, that had the potential to ruin everything. They were deep, dark corners somewhere within that had broken stronger couples. Stronger people. But somehow, we'd made it to the other end of it all. Somehow—together—we'd survived.
It would never stop being amazing me—the way he loved me. The way I loved him. There were so many times over the course of our relationship when I was sure something would end it. Something that would change things irrevocably. Something that would scare him away for good.
It was something I still had trouble admitting to myself, but part of me had been terrified the miscarriage might have put him over the edge—that all those dark emotions would be too much for him, and looking at me might just be a constant reminder of everything he wanted to forget about the experience. It had happened to couples—a miscarriage or the loss of a young child tearing them apart. I knew it was a real thing.
And I also knew what Harry must've been thinking. I'd had two miscarriages already—I was young and healthy otherwise, the doctors couldn't seem to give me a specific reason why I'd lost two babies—so who was to say that it wouldn't happen again? Who was to say that I would be able to have a baby in the future?
It still plagued me sometimes—thinking that bearing children might never be a possibility for me. And if that were true, I wouldn't blame Harry for leaving if that was what he wanted. I would completely understand.
Most of the time, though, I was able to put all that out of my mind. In fact, the further away we got from that second miscarriage, the easier it had become.
I'd had a great semester with my students, and I'd gotten great evaluations, too. Harry had done a ton of work in the studio, and it looked like he'd be ready to release his third album as early as the spring. Not to mention all the songs he'd written for other artists during the last several months.
We both came home at the end of each day tired, but smiling. Feeling fulfilled from the day's work, and happy to see each other. Sometimes he was home earlier than I was, and had dinner started. And sometimes, I got home first and cooked for him. It was a routine that felt easy, and it worked so well because we were both willing participants. Equals. Neither of us felt like we didn't want to do for the other just because we'd had a long day.
The beauty of our schedules was that we were able to miss each other, and in missing each other, we were able to appreciate each other when we were together again. We'd always worked well apart. And now—I didn't think we'd ever worked better together.
"About time," Harry said as I walked into the room carrying my plate in one hand and coffee in the other.
"You didn't have to wait." I padded over to my side of the bed and set my coffee down.
"Now if it's cold, it's definitely your fault," he said as I leveled my plate and slid under the sheets.
"This is part of your Christmas gift. No one told you to be all self-sacrificing and wait on me to dig in."
Harry was grinning as he stabbed some eggs and shoved them into his mouth. "Lukewarm. Just how I like 'em."
I gave him a nudge with my shoulder, but dove into my own breakfast, enjoying the cozy warmth of our bed, and the even cozier feelings being close to Harry always gave me.
Even sex had been better these days. Just last night, I came four times before finally passing out, too tired to go on any longer. Just like we planned, we were keeping a close eye on my cycle, and only using condoms if it might be a little too risky. Still, Harry never once complained, and I couldn't have loved him more for it.
And now—months after we'd had the initial conversation—I was starting to feel like it might be time to consider trying again. We'd discussed only waiting a few more months when the semester was starting anyway.
But it was strange because even though I felt like we'd come so far, a few months had really only felt like a minute. A minute that had felt like a small, beautiful lifetime of loving each other and getting to enjoy our first year of marriage the way we were always meant to.
I was so deliriously happy with him, so happy with our lives, that it truly felt like nothing could stop us. Not even another heartbreak like a miscarriage. Because we'd gotten through it once—I knew we were strong enough, that our love was strong enough, to get through it again if we had to.
But what if we didn't have to? What if, this time, we weren't met with heartbreak? What if, this time, we ended up having a baby?
The prospect of having a baby with him was once again the most exciting thing I could imagine. And there had been a point where I wasn't sure that would happen again. But since it had... what better way to start trying again then with excitement?
With hope.
Plates clean, coffee cups drained, cuddled up against his shoulder with my hand tucked into his, I almost didn't want to get up. But the idea of watching him open his gift had me kind of wired.
"Ready for the next part of your gift?" I asked.
Harry chuckled. "We were only supposed to do one gift each."
"I know," I said, touching my lips to his warm shoulder, not even trying to hide my smile. "That's why there's a second part to your gift."
Harry turned his head, and his warm breath fanned over my hair. I could feel his smiling lips move as he said, "You sneaky thing."
"Come on." I yanked him along as I climbed out of bed, but yelped when Harry pinched my bare behind. He spun me around.
"If you want to make it out of this room some time in the next few hours, I suggest you put on some pants," he murmured, standing tall in front of me and looping his arms around my waist. "Or if you wanted to make up a third part to my Christmas gift, I've got plenty of ideas."
His hands drifted lower, lifting the bottom of his shirt from my body as he kissed my neck, and my knees went weak as his fingers found a particularly sensitive bit of skin between my legs.
I gulped.
"Later," I murmured, urging his hand away and opening my eyes again. I held tight to his fingers and led him out of the room. "I'm too excited to wait."
"I know how that feels."
Harry was smirking when I glanced over my shoulder. It made me giggle, but I rolled my eyes for show.
Our apartment looked like Christmas threw up inside it. Harry and I were both excited about our first Christmas together, and as holiday lovers to begin with, we wanted to make sure we did everything we could to make it special. Which turned into lights strung along the walls and around the island in the kitchen, our personalized stockings hung over the fireplace, fake frost on all the windows and battery-operated candles in each one, decorative wreathes, red bows, and mistletoe hanging from every surface that would support them...
Not to mention the tree.
We'd made a night of going out to pick a real one—a frigid evening last week, so cold, we could see our breath puff out in front of us as we walked to the nearest Christmas tree lot. There was nothing particularly special about the whole evening, but it was one of the most romantic nights of my life. The city was all lit up with Christmas lights and decorations, and the chill in the air had us bundled up and huddled together, arms linked as we walked, noses and cheeks red, eyes watering from the wind. We'd had to stop for hot chocolate just to keep ourselves warm, but we couldn't seem to stop smiling.
And picking the tree was easy. It didn't take us long at all to agree on one. Then came the hard part, but arguably the most fun part, too—getting it home. We laughed at ourselves the whole time—Harry leading the way carrying the trunk of the tree, and me at the back carrying the top. It probably would've made more sense to rent a car for the job of getting it home, but then the whole experience wouldn't have been as enjoyable.
Getting it up to the apartment was an ordeal in itself, too. We'd gotten it into the elevator, but not without a whole lot of effort and even more laughter. The kind of laughter that made your stomach hurt. The kind that left you breathless and wheezing. The kind that you couldn't stop, no matter how hard you tried. Between the effort of walking it home, angling it into the elevator, and getting it into our apartment, we were absolutely exhausted as well as hysterical by the time we dropped the tree on the floor of our living room and crashed onto the couch. We had to sit for a few minutes just to summon the strength to un-bundle ourselves.
But it was the most fun I'd had in a while.
I'd plugged everything in as soon as I'd come out here this morning, and looking at the tree now, all lit up, I was remembering every moment of decorating it. Harry insisting we play Christmas music, turning on the kettle for more hot chocolate, then deciding if we wanted the tree to have a certain "aesthetic" or if we just wanted to go for it. We'd decided to just go for it, but it still looked pretty classy. We really only had ornaments people had given us (you wouldn't believe how many "Our First Christmas" ornaments we'd received as engagement gifts and as part of our wedding gifts), and the pretty red, green, and white bulbs I'd bought earlier this month.
Plus tinsel. Lots of tinsel. Which had ended up getting everywhere, but was worth it just for how pretty and warm and festive it looked against the white lights.
"Sit," I told him as we reached the couch, and he obeyed as I headed for our stockings.
There were presents under the tree, but they weren't for us. They were mostly for my nieces, and for our families. We'd agreed to only get each other one gift each. Neither of us wanted or needed anything. We were lucky enough that we were able to get ourselves and each other whatever we wanted or needed throughout the year, so that left very little to surprise each other with on special occasions. And we didn't take that for granted. We fully realized what a privilege it was to live so comfortably every day, and had already made sure to donate to a few charities in the hopes of making Christmas just a little more special for more families out there.
But that didn't mean I didn't want to surprise Harry. It actually made me want to surprise him even more.
"Can I go first?" he asked as I took his stocking down. But he didn't wait for me to answer. He was already coming up behind me, taking my stocking down, too.
"What—"
"Please?" He was standing beside me, looking at me, a glimmer of something in his green eyes. And he was still shirtless. Still only in his boxers. His broad shoulders and strong arms looked ready to support me if I chose to drop everything and launch myself at him right now, but I held back, too curious to put this off any longer.
"Okay," I said, walking with him back to the couch and smiling as he put on some Christmas music. "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas" was up first. The Judy Garland version, of course.
"Okay," he said, handing me my stocking.
I only grew more excited when I felt the weight of it. "So much for one gift."
"It's mostly chocolate," Harry said with a chuckle as he watched me stick my hand in. "But there's something else in there, too."
"A couple somethings," I said, feeling around, already slightly worried because I'd gotten him chocolates, too. Brushing aside what felt like an envelope (which caused me a slight bit more worry), my fingers closed around a box, and I didn't have to see it to know it was a jewelry box.
"Harry," I gently scolded, pulling the box out.
"Just open it," he said with a closed-lip smile.
He looked a little unsure as I flipped the lid of the box up, and my heart picked up its pace when I noted that uncertainty. But it almost stopped completely when I saw what was inside.
It was a pendant on a chain. A gold pendant with a date etched into its surface.
My breath hitched.
He'd gotten it tattooed already—that date that neither of us would ever forget. A small memorial right along his collarbone, close to his heart, practically floating over one of the swallow's wings.
Harry pulled me close as the emotion—the pain edged with love—overcame me. His chest was warm, his arms strong and comforting, and he dropped kiss after kiss to my head as I clutched the box in my hands.
"I wanted him or her to be with us on our first Christmas as a real family," he whispered, his voice breathy, a catch to it towards the end. "I wanted them to be with both of us always, somehow. This was the only way I could think of."
I pulled back, gasping a little as I tried to calm myself—as I looked at it once more. "It—it's perfect."
Harry sniffed, and I noted the tears in his eyes right before he looked down at the beautiful necklace—the perfect memorial to our baby. "Let me put it on."
I didn't say anything as he took the box from my hands, as he gently took the necklace out, as I swung around and lifted my hair so that he could fasten it around my neck. I grabbed onto one of his hands when they gripped my shoulders, clutched the necklace with my other hand when I felt his lips on the skin between my shoulder and neck, and leaned back into him when his arms wrapped around me.
We didn't really talk about it anymore, but that made moments like these all the more powerful. Because neither of us had forgotten, or would ever forget what we went through, the potential for the life we would never get to know. That was what Harry's gift was—a symbol of our love for that life, something to remind us just how much that life had meant, even for the short amount of time we'd had that life to love.
"Have I mentioned I love you today?" I asked a couple minutes later, partly to lighten the mood and get both of us to stop crying, but mostly because I needed to say it.
"Not yet." I could tell he was smiling.
I tilted my head a bit—didn't look at him, just pulled his arms a little closer around me and let my head rest against his. "I love you."
He squeezed me, his chin against my forehead. "Love you more."
I slipped out of his arms, turned, and kissed him. "Doubt it."
He grinned, but it wasn't a full-blown smile yet. "There's more to your gift."
I sniffled and returned his grin as I mocked, "We were only supposed to do one gift each."
Harry let his head fall to the side. "Yeah, well it seems neither of us adhere to directions particularly well, just—" he gestured to the stocking "—look at the rest."
He lifted an arm and placed it on top of the couch behind me, and I could practically feel his anticipation as I pulled the envelope out, as my own joy plummeted when I began to realize what it was...
I pulled out two boarding passes.
"We're going to the Caribbean?"
"Tomorrow," he said, giving me a pleased grin.
"Tomorrow?"
"Your family already knows, and it's only for a week. Everything's all worked out, so please don't get yourself too worked up."
"Tomorrow?!" I was simultaneously thanking my lucky stars and freaking the fuck out.
Harry started to laugh, and knowing me all too well, went into "calm down" mode. "It's a vacation, Mads. There isn't any pressure. All that's left to do is pack."
I looked down at the tickets again, noting the date and time of our flight.
"Open your gift."
"What?"
"Your gift. Open it."
"Now?"
"Now."
He looked at me like I'd lost my mind, but then did as I asked, smiling when he looked into his stocking. "Great minds think alike," he said, pulling out a box of chocolate.
"A little too alike," I said, heart still pounding, shocked that we'd had the same idea. Or a similar idea.
Harry eyed the envelope as he slid it out of the stocking, then looked at me. "No way."
I only widened my eyes, still shocked, but growing more amused by the second.
Harry pulled out the confirmation email and stared at it.
"Thank God we planned for different weeks."
He didn't answer for another few seconds. "When?"
"Towards the end of my break. For a week." He stared at the confirmation a little longer, and a lightbulb went on in my head. "That was why your mother insisted I wait!"
Harry looked up at me, still seemingly stunned.
"I talked to her about it before I bought the tickets. I was hoping to go within the week after Christmas, but she told me they had a lot going on and it would be better if we waited. It struck me a little funny that she seemed sort of secretive about what they had going on, but I didn't question it."
Harry only looked thoughtful. And not in a particularly good way.
When I'd asked him about going to see his family for Christmas or New Year's, he was noncommittal. He'd said we could visit them whenever, that it didn't have to be for the holidays. Now, of course, it made sense given the fact that he was planning a vacation for us, but I felt bad at the time. We hadn't been back to England since the miscarriage, and he hadn't brought up wanting to go. He talked to his mom almost every day, and Gemma a few times a week. But at the same time, we'd both been so busy with work, it had never seemed like a good time. Which was why I thought a trip home would be the perfect Christmas gift for him. But his reaction so far...
"Do you not—" I hesitated, confused. Slightly let down. "Do you not like it?"
"What? No. I do."
His brow was still furrowed. He was still considering... something.
"I just—I thought you'd be excited."
"I am, I just..." Harry let out a breath. Looked at me. And there was concern in his eyes. "Do you want to go?"
I let that sink in for a second, but when it still didn't make much sense, I had to laugh. "Of course I do."
"No, I mean... After everything, I didn't think—"
He broke off. I waited while he collected his thoughts, practically holding my breath, wondering what he was going to say.
"I mean... I don't think it'll be particularly easy for me to be back home after what happened last time. And if it's not easy for me, then how will you—"
Once more, everything clicked. Once again, Harry was putting his concerns for me before anything else.
"Harry." I gripped his hand, unsure where to start—what to say. My heart, my smile took over before I could think any longer on it. "That's your home. It's our home. The people we love are there. Nothing would stop me from going back."
He looked at me.
"Nothing," I repeated.
And now, he only looked worried.
"Don't you miss your family?"
"Of course I do."
"Then, great! That's what matters most," I said, squeezing his hand. "That's what we have to focus on. And maybe things will be hard..."
We'd be sleeping in the same room again, I was sure. And the last time we'd been in that room, the distance between us—that chasm of empty, dark space, gouged out from between us by such tragic loss—had been terrifying. But it had only existed because of the grief. It had only been real to us because it was so fresh. There was no reason for that vast, dark space to be in that room any longer.
It wasn't his childhood home's fault that we'd been through what we'd been through.
"But everything is so good now," I reminded him. "We're not the same people who left that house all those months ago, Harry. And those feelings won't come back to haunt us unless we let them."
After a moment, the corner of his lips tugged upwards, and his eyes got sort of glassy with emotion. "You're right." He gave my hand a little shake, then covered it with his free one, and studied our joined fingers.
"Damn right I'm right."
He chuckled, and I gave into the urge to touch his cheek, run my thumb over his dimple.
"Your mom's so excited," I said to reassure him even more.
Harry kissed my palm. "I'm sure she is. And now I feel guilty for not getting back over there sooner."
"Don't," I said, letting my hand fall from his cheek. "She's just happy we're coming now."
He breathed a laugh through his nostrils. "I can't believe she didn't tell me."
"She's good at keeping secrets," I said, angling so that my free hand came to rest on his arm on the back of the couch.
"So is your mum. Did she know about England, too?"
"Of course. You know she would've killed me if I didn't tell her."
He laughed again. "So they both knew that we were planning trips for each other, and neither of them said a word."
"I'm sure we'll hear plenty about it tonight." We were going to my Mom's for Christmas dinner, and though we still had several more hours before we had to leave, I was already dreading having to pack up all the gifts we were bringing. But for now, I had to giggle. "I wonder if they talked to each other about it."
"Probably," he said, still grinning. "I'm sure they're still having their bi-monthly check-in to make sure everyone's on the same page about how we're doing."
My eyes shifted from the morning light back to him. "I still don't know how I feel about that."
"Me neither," he said, amused.
Our mothers had taken to calling each other every so often ever since the miscarriage. It helped for them to know what was really going on, they'd each said, since neither of us apparently liked to give them enough detail.
"It's all out of love, though, right?" I said.
"I s'pose." Harry looked at me, that familiar gleam back in his eye. My stomach did a flip as it zeroed in on me. "Have I thanked you for my Christmas gift yet?"
"Not quite."
He leaned forward, ready to kiss me.
But I couldn't help myself. "I'm still not sure about this spontaneous trip to the Caribbean thing."
It was a lie. I was completely sure about the spontaneous trip to the Caribbean thing—sure I would love every single second.
But it was too good an opportunity to pass up—watching him drop his chin to his chest in frustration. I laughed, and he whipped his head right back up.
"Oh, you think that's funny, do you?" he asked, a threat coloring his words.
"Hysterical," I goaded.
"Really." He licked his lips, leaned close again, strong hands coming to my waist...
"I mean, now I have less than twenty-four hours to prepare. Less than eight hours to get out all my summer clothes, make sure I have enough of everything as far as toiletries go," I tilted my head back when Harry's lips found the skin of my neck, "like toothpaste, and face wash, and I'm gonna have to get trial-sized shampoo and conditioner—"
"We can get all that when we get there," Harry said, taking a break from littering my throat with kisses.
"And I have no clue where I put my sandals. I think they might be in the guest bedroom. But maybe I put them in the—"
Harry's lips cut me off—hot and hungry on mine, his tongue demanding in my mouth. His hands yanked my hips forward so that my back fell flat against the couch cushion, and I smiled when he pulled away, grateful I hadn't heeded his earlier request to put on pants. Not to mention thoroughly flustered and thoroughly ready with the heat of his body lodged between my legs.
"I fucking love it when you ramble," he mumbled, his lips already traveling south over my chest as his hands found their way under my shirt—his shirt.
And I smiled when I yanked his face back up to mine, smiled into the kiss I gave him as I ran my hands over his warm back.
I knew he did. He always had.
___
Author's Note:
A nice, mostly light chapter for you guys! I realized I don't think I've ever written a Christmas chapter for these two, and well... that just didn't sit well with me! But in true Harry and Mads fashion, things couldn't go *quite* according to plan lmao. I hope you babes enjoyed it, and I hope it was a nice break from the heavier stuff I'm putting them through over in H's POV :) Let me know what you thought if you have a second! Vote, comment, whatever strikes your fancy!
These two, man. They do things to my heart <3
Anyway, I hope everyone's been well! To all my beta readers, just so you know, I sent out an email with the edited version of "Somewhere in the Middle" attached, if you haven't already seen it. Some of you have read it and replied already, which is AWESOME and I can't thank you enough for your feedback! And if anyone else is interested in beta reading for me, just send me your email address in a PM! The more the merrier in my opinion :)
That's all I've got today, babes. I hope you've had an AMAZING couple of weeks, and that the next two are even better! Lots and lots and LOTS of love. xxxx