Time stood still as the sharp knock interrupted the ghostly night that surrounded the cottage. She remained frozen like a statue, plagued with fear of what was on the other side. She knew it was him. Not just by the way his strong knuckles sounded against the oak wooden door, but because he would be the only one to know she was a total wreck tonight; the only one to ever truly know her.
He was here for one reason, and one reason only. To make her restore her faith in fairytales; to believe in dreams coming true.
To emotionally destroy her.
Her heart galloped wildly in her chest, as the words from the past resounded in her head like a haunting dream that followed her. She knew what would occur once she let him in. It would be the same old thing after awhile. It was the same old song, a broken record.
“I love you. I’m so in love with you.”
“I don’t ever want to be not enough for you.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m leaving her.”
“I can’t.. I can’t do this.”
“We can’t keep going ‘round in circles.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m not good for you.”
“You deserve everything.. the world.. the moon and stars.. You deserve the world.”
“You are the world.”
“I’m sorry.”
Could she handle it? Did she want to subject herself to such devastation again?
It had been a few long, drawn out months of nothing. No word. No attempt to communicate. Nothing. But now… In her heart, she knew his absence didn’t mean it was over; he wasn’t giving her up. He could never give her up.
Her heart jumped to her throat when the hard sharp knock echoed in the cozy room, and her breathing became labored. As much as uncertainly coursed through her in regards to if she wanted to repeat the same dance, a bigger part of her – the one that always took over every other – refused to let her turn him away when he called.
Another knock.
“C-coming!” She stammered, shuffling her feet to the door in exasperation. Heartache, be damned. She wanted – nay, she ached to see him. Slowly, cautiously, she opened the door.
The wind was knocked out of her. Harry stood there, his hands that had been wringing together now still and a look of sheer terror in his crinkled eyes aging him greatly. His hair was disheveled and the delicious image of him running his fingers through his hair the whole way there created a sinful dip in her lower abdomen. She knew every habit of his, every defense and coping mechanism. She knew parts of him that he was blind to himself, and vice versa. So to imagine him making the journey over to the cottage was weirdly accurate.
“Hi,” Harry croaked, the single syllable barely audible.
“Hi,” she mouthed back, hanging onto the doorframe with both hands for support. He looked worse for wear, that was for sure, but she knew she did too.
The frightened look in his eyes slowly faded by her soft greeting, but the fear of rejection still lingered in the air. It was coming from both of them. His penetrating eyes took her in, roving over her curvaceous form after feeling the pang of shame for being the cause of her red, puffy eyes. He had expected it, but nothing could prepare him to see her so broken because of him.
Harry sucked in a breath as his ocean blue eyes continued on and ran over her breasts, the light sleeping shirt she wore doing nothing to conceal the effect he still had on her. Her body reacted instinctively. Her chest heaved, her stomach muscles trembled, and wetness pooled between her thighs. She felt warm all over, her insides quivering underneath his heated gaze, and a strong desire grew in her belly.
He had such power over her, dominating all of her without meaning to. It should have been unsettling, how easily she was able to give up her morals for a man who didn’t belong to her. But, truthfully, she accepted it.. she welcomed it.. she ached for it. For him.
“Can I come in?”
Harry’s hoarse voice snapped her out of the trance. She nodded slowly and couldn’t stop the small smile from gracing her lips at the brightening of his eyes. Stepping to the side, she held her breath and inwardly groaned at how good he smelled when he walked past her. So masculine, tempting, and him. She swallowed nervously before shutting the door and following him into the living space.
Harry took a seat on the couch, noticing the depleted bottle of wine that rested beside the empty wine glass. He would have commented on it, recalling the countless times he had called her Hemingway whenever he caught her drinking. She wrote better while sporting a buzz, she would explain with a huff, and white wine gave her the cheap cloudiness needed to fight through writer’s block. He didn’t tease her this time, solely because he was fully aware the contents had been a deep, dark red color.
Red wine meant something entirely different, more heavy.
“There was only a glass left in the bottle,” she said, quietly. Even now, after all that had transpired, she felt the need to explain herself.
“Sure.” Harry scratched his brow, a frown deepening on his mouth when the fleeting thought that she may be lying to him now crossed his mind. She had vowed to never utter a single untrue word to him, but that vow had been broken the last time they spoke. Just like every other vow they had made to each other over the course of their relationship.
“Would you like a cup of tea?” She asked to fill the air with anything that would stop the awkward silence from driving her absolutely mad.
“No, thank you.” He replied, tightly.
“Something to eat? I could whip up some-”
Harry’s eyes rose to hers in a desperate plea to stop; to which she obliged, her mouth snapping shut. He didn’t want to eat, he didn’t want to drink. He just wanted to be here, with her.
“Sit with me.” He leaned back in his seat and watched her closely as she did what he said, sitting at the edge instead of scooting back like he did. He scanned the room he knew fairly well, his tired eyes roaming over the books of literature that were stacked alphabetically, another thing he poked fun of. So many memories filled within these walls, mostly sweet and happy memories. He longed to get those back, to relive them and feel like himself again instead of a ghost of a man.
“What are you doing here, Harry?” She blurted after a few moments of heavy silence.
“I don’t know.” He answered with a deep sigh. “I wanted to see you.”
“Why?”
Harry shrugged, swallowing down the truth. He swept up her iPod that lay carelessly on the edge of the coffee table and plucked out the earphones. The device sprang to life and he tapped the password without hesitation. A small, sad smile formed on his lips when Soundtrack of My Life greeted him, nostalgia washing over him.
“Do you remember…” He started before finding himself sliding off the couch to rest on the soft carpeting.
—————-
They laid side by side, flat on their backs while staring up at the ceiling; untouching. The songs played on, as did her explanations. When the beat of the next song vibrated out of the speakers, Harry couldn’t hold back a gasping laugh.
“You do not have Sexyback on the soundtrack of your life.”
“Yes, I fucking do!”
“Why?” He asked with an unguarded laugh. It was so easy, to laugh and joke around with her like this. To never think twice before he spoke like he had to back home. Quite frankly, home was here in the cottage now instead of miles and miles away in another town like it should have been. She was home.
“Are you insinuating that I’m not remotely sexy, Wales?”
He smirked, turning his head to peer at her with dancing eyes. Her grin stared back at him, and she found herself lost in his gaze that exuded the intense love and admiration he felt for her. She didn’t know it then, but her own eyes were mirroring his.
“Are you going to let me whip you if you misbehave? Is that what you are saying by having this song on the playlist that’s supposed to be about you?”
She laughed loudly, uncaring at how high-pitched it came out. He never once complained about her obnoxious laugh. Oddly enough, he found it attractive and extremely sexy.
“I don’t know. What do you classify as misbehaving?”
“Ah, yes, let’s discuss this topic, shall we?”
“Mm..” She hummed, then continued in a low seductive tone, “I’m more of a hands-on learner..”
His eyes widened in mock surprise, noting the mischievous glint in her eyes just before she shifted to close the small space between them.
—————
The sound of their silly giggles faded along with the heated memory when Harry placed the playlist on shuffle and the beginnings of a melancholy melody began to play, a soft angelic voice drifting through the tiny speakers of the device. She slipped down to the floor to join him, her heart beating a mile a minute as she recalled that night. They had made love until the early morning hours before daylight whisked him away. Never did she think they would be here now in this state; in turmoil.
Will you stay with me, will you be my love
Among the fields of barley
We’ll forget the sun in his jealous sky
As we lie in fields of gold
I never made promises lightly
And there have been some that I’ve broken
But I swear in the days still left
We’ll walk in fields of gold
Never did she think this song would make it onto this playlist.
“I remember everything.” She found herself saying after she lay flat on her back, staring up at the ceiling with him. It was hard to swallow, hard to fight the devastation she hid in her chest, hard to lay there beside him without showing him an ounce of affection.
“You asked me why I was here,” Harry gravelly began, sadness crushing him as the lyrics hit him like a ton of bricks. “The truth is… I miss you. I miss you so bloody much that it consumes me..”
Tears sprang to her eyes at his confession being laced with his own tears. He struggled to speak, emotion coating his throat, but he needed to say the words to her. He needed her to know.
”I think about you all the damn time. I go to reach for you… I-I try not to.. but I just..”
”Harry..” Her voice came out so small.
He took a breath, shaking his head almost embarrassed by his frantic rant. ”I love you. I’m in love with you. Completely.”
That’s what it came down to. That’s what it always came down to. Love. Tragic love.
His head turned to the side to gaze at her, a deep ache filling his chest when he saw the lone tear roll down her cheek. She tried not to turn towards him, despising how fragile she must seem to him, but she longed to see his handsome face within arms reach. Slowly, she met his sad eyes. It only made the tears begin to spill over her cheeks more freely.
Harry inhaled sharply, his features twisting at the sorrow he caused this incredible woman. She didn’t deserve this – him. She deserved everything he couldn’t give her. She deserved more than him.
But he couldn’t stop; he couldn’t let her go.
A tiny flutter of hope made her heart accelerate when he reached out with his hand. She didn’t move, didn’t flinch, just waited on bated breath for his inevitable touch. At the first soft brush of the back of his knuckles stroking her cheek affectionately, her lashes fluttered like a whisper of butterfly wings against her rounded cheeks. He caught every teardrop, gently sweeping them away; healing her.
She felt the blush move upon her cheeks when his fingertips danced across her mouth, and it only deepened when his thumb softly traced her closed lips. They parted involuntarily, as if her body was on instinct to react so openly and trusting to his touch.
Harry was unstoppable, his actions fueled by his desire for her; an undeniable need for intimacy with the only one he could completely let his guard down with.
”Make love to me.”
Harry remained at his spot, his loving hand still caressing her flushed face sweetly.
He hadn’t expected the request to slip past her lips, and truthfully neither did she. They both knew it would happen as soon as their eyes locked when she slowly opened the door to him – offering all of herself. They had known the night would end and they would find themselves tangled together in between her sheets, two lovers reuniting in every sense of the word.
But neither one expected it to be her to make the first move. He had always been the one to initiate it, after all. Now it was out there. The breathy words had been said. And there was no going back.
———-
Hours later, she began to wake up from the first peaceful slumber in months. The blinds were still shut, but given the sleepy state she was still in, unable to peel her eyes open, she knew it was still too early; the sun most likely not up yet.
A small, airy sound escaped her–a pleasured noise–at the soreness that was undeniable between her legs, evidence that the previous evening hadn’t been a dream.
It had been real; he had come back to her.
A tiny smile appeared on her tired face at the memory; the memory of his disheveled appearance at her front door, the longing that shone in his crystal blue eyes that did things to her belly. He had made love to her like she asked. They had talked, her apologizing for lying to him months ago and reassuring him that he was enough, he had always been enough. He had kissed her passionately, silencing her. It had been all he wanted to hear.
Then they had laughed at the new, embarrassing music she had added to the iPod in his absence, Harry rolling his eyes with every song and poking fun at her while she defended herself and her poor taste in music. They had shared a tub of Ben & Jerry’s, sitting crosslegged on her bed while she rambled about the ups and downs of venturing out of her familiar historical romance writing and tapping into the murder mystery genre. She had listened intently when he updated her on the progress of the charities he was patron on and beamed at him when he spoke of his family.
They had been them again. Even after seven months. Even after the hurtful things she had thrown out at him. Even after he had demanded her to leave his sight. After all the heartache.
They were them again.
For seven months, she stayed up night after night, her eyes fixated on the empty spot beside her in the large canopy bed. She had wished for him to be there, she had wished to hear his voice as he laughed with her. She had prayed for him to wipe away the tears that fell freely from her eyes. She had pleaded in the dark night for his strong arms to wrap around her, for him to whisper he loved her and that he was there.
And last night, he did just that. He held her in his tight embrace. He had whispered sweet words–sweet promises in her ear as she leaned back on his chest. He was there, like she wanted him to be.
Her legs shifted in a slight stretch, easing the cramp that was caused from staying in the same position for a great duration of time, then they moved blindly to search for warmth.
She froze.
The cold and abandoned spot met her skin unexpectedly instead. She inhaled sharply, almost choking on the air as her brain registered her surroundings, her heart beating rapidly despite it cracking piece by piece.
No longer did she feel safe and secure in his warm embrace. No longer did she feel his breath against her neck, nor could she feel the hardness of his chest deliciously on her back.
She was alone.
She didn’t want to turn on her back, the suffocating pain in her chest already too much to bear. She didn’t want to see what she already knew she would find. She didn’t want to, but she had to. She had to face it, had to acknowledge it so she could go on and piece herself back together like she had been doing for over a year now.
Slowly turning to lay flat on her back, her eyes stared up at the ceiling. Her chest burned with anticipation of the despair she would find herself in in just a moments time. She was mentally preparing herself for it, having gone through this countless times before. Taking a breath, her head turned to the side and landed on the sight that broke her.
An empty spot on his side of the bed.
She choked on a cry, bringing a hand up to cover her mouth, to cover the cries that kept drawing from her lips.
He was gone. He had left her, this time to vow himself to another.
Rolling onto the space he had laid on not that long ago, she inhaled his lingering scent and sobbed as the pain hit her in waves, crashing into her heart.
She didn’t stop. She couldn’t. Not even when a small piece of white paper that lay carefully on his pillow caught her eye. The tears slid down her hot cheeks as she reached for it, uncaring at the way her fingers trembled.
Blinking through her clouded vision, she made out the note he had left behind. Her eyes searched it, over and over, as if there were more than what he had written; as if they were meant to console her in some way.
But it was clear as day what they meant.
She let it all out, the betrayal she felt, the hurt that coursed through her bones. She wept and wailed, her hand smacking against the mattress, her endless tears soaking the sheet as his parting words resounded in her head.
I’m so sorry.
The pain was indescribable. In her heart, her chest, her soul. Her entire being, entire existence. Oh, how the pain was indescribable.
You’ll remember me when the west wind moves
Upon the fields of barley
You can tell the sun in his jealous sky
When we walked in fields of gold
Wild Winter's Day 