#‘did you wanna swallow sumthin else?’ WELL YES ACTUALLY— | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

vanchlo · 3 years

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The Firsts / #6, “The First Festivities”

*not my gifs*

---> NEXT BLURB: Coming soon, I hope! Keep an eye on the series masterlist for updates!

READ THE ASSISTANT, AKA WHAT CAME FIRST

SERIES MASTERLIST

READ ON WATTPAD

LEGEND:

+ : a break in the story; a time jump.

and i’m too lazy for italics bc tumblr ignores formatting that i do in Docs so sorry i give up

WARNINGS: Prepare for some angst and sadness, but don’t worry it’ll be ok c:

WORD COUNT: 8.7k

SONG: Wonderful Christmastime by Paul McCartney (click to listen)

sneAAAAAAAKY PEEK!

“Because loving somebody means loving them when they’re okay and when they’re not okay. I knew that’s what I was signing up for when I started loving you, so long ago. I knew that you could be a good person, Harry, and you are. I knew that just because you’re okay one day doesn’t mean that you will be the next day and every day after that,” I tell him, lacing the fingers of my other hand with his limp ones. His unblinking eyes fill with tears and then drain of them, staring ahead and disagreeing with mine. “Please let me help, and come home with me. I’ll stay with you.”

“All I can say is that you make me... you make me into someone I couldn't even imagine. You make me happy, even when you're awful. I would rather be with you - even the you that you seem to think is diminished - than with anyone else in the world.”

― Jojo Moyes, Me Before You

The tiny tree drowning in miniature lights and ornaments taunts me as I pour the pale creamer into the steaming mug. Clucking my tongue, I drop a spoon into the beige colored abyss. I begin to stir it in never ending circles as my flats carry me down the hallway.

“You know, the break room looks more like Christmas than your house,” I jest, turning to close the door behind me.

“If ‘s such a problem t’ you then why dontcha do sumthin’ ‘bout it?” they remark sarcastically, turning to face me with an eyebrow raised in my direction. A corner of his mouth quirks upwards as I shake my head with a bemused smile.

“What do you call what I’m doing right now, huh?” I reply, handing the mug of coffee to him.

“I call it bullyin’ me into submission, Ms. Lawyer,” Harry giggles, bringing the hot mug to his lips.

“All I can say is that I learned from the best,” I shrug and he shakes his head into his mug. “Ugh, I don’t know how you can drink coffee when it’s so hot. You must have no taste buds left, anymore.”

His laugh tickles the air as he swallows, moving to set it down on a frosted black coaster beside his keyboard. Smiling, he licks his lips before they part, “Reckon I don’t anymo’ then, maybe that’s why I liked yer poppy seed bread befo’ you told me you’d doused it in icing t’ hide tha fact it was burnt,” Harry chuckles, and I press my smiling lips together. Shaking my head, his giggle nudges at my own lips framed by flamed cheeks.

“Hush,” I say, turning away and walking towards his sofa where my purple knit blanket has found a new home with my Macbook.

“And what if I don’t?” he teases, taking hold of my waist and stopping behind me where I feel his breath on my ear.

“Really?” I ask in a titter, moving my body to face him and his ethereal looking smile. A sight I had gone so long without seeing that I wasn’t sure if it could find its home anymore.

“Really really,” he grins, dipping to leave kisses along my cheeks. My eyes fall shut with a smile accompanying it, and I enjoy the feeling of his lips along my temple, and then my cheek. It still feels so new, all over again, and I won’t let what came before it shadow it.

“I think you should get a tree, Harry, it’s Christmas next week, babe.”

“Then come with me t’ tha tree farm t’night,” he murmurs against my skin, followed by my intake of air when his teeth sink into my ear. Our giggles mingle when he releases it and continues his journey down my neck.

“Wait, really?” I ask excitedly, pulling away to find his lips falling into a frown. “You’re finally agreeing to go all out with me? The real tree, decorating the tree while cookies bake in the oven and-.”

“Yes,” he answers hurriedly, his lips considerably closer to mine than they were a second ago.

“Watching Christmas movies together with a fire in the fireplace, exchanging presents on Christmas morning-.”

“Yes, Becks. Whatever you’d like, love,” he wheezes with that light once again on his face. My favorite kind of sunshine. “Now, would ya stop talkin’ so I can bloody kiss ya already?” and I nod, soon smiling into his lips that press a long kiss to mine. “Think they’ll even have any good ones left?” he asks a moment later, dragging the tip of his finger along my birthmark with a content smile grazing his lips.

“I dunno, I guess we’ll see but it’s probably picked over rather well,” I shrug, and he does too with an exhale, pulling me against his chest.

“Hmm, wonder what kinda Christmas traditions we’ll start t’getha this year, bug.”

“Well God, I hope this isn’t going to be a lasting tradition,” I muse, crossing my arms over my chest as I hold back a laugh. Turning my head to look at him, his eyes reluctantly make their way over to me after brushing the stray needles off of his coat that he keeps around for things like this. His “manly man coat” as he calls it, as if this tree really required it.

“I don’t wanna hear anotha word outta you,” Harry remarks, pointing a finger at me while giving me a dirty look. My lips part and he dips his head at me with raised brows. “You said it was cute when we picked it out, and how many times do you tell me ‘ya get what ya get and ya don’t throw a fit?’ Huh?”

“Okay, but, Harry,” I begin until a laugh overcomes my words and he groans in response.

“Somebody jus’ had t’ have a bloody tree,” he grunts, walking away and over to the closet under the stairs where he hangs his tattered coat.

“Hey! I like it, but . . “

“But what?” he sighs, and when I tear my eyes from the tree he’s giving me another annoyed look.

“But I like big things, you know that,” I tease, meeting him by the kitchen island where I slip my way into his arms. But one of mine wanders down his chest and to the front of his jeans that he slipped on for the outing that greet my fingers with cold fabric.

“Dontchu try t’ butter me up, woman,” he says with a roll of his eyes until it dissolves into the sound that often coasts from his lips lately. I hate when my mind automatically goes to those few weeks where I yearned to hear it around the firm, but I never did.

“I’m not, and I’m just kidding. I really do love the tree, I think it’s a perfect size, not too big, not too small,” I tell him in a coo and he nods with slight hesitancy to the action.

“Yer sure?”

“Yes,” I answer, letting my head fall to his chest after my arms wound around his middle. “I like our first Christmas tree, it’s tiny and cute. I like little things too, they’re just so adorable.”

“That’s not what you were jus’ sayin,’” he whispers, squeezing my ass and I almost jump. Now, it’s my turn to roll my eyes as I exhale, admiring the four foot Christmas tree. The tallest one we could find at the farm that wasn’t scrawny or sick.

“Hush, and go and get the lights and ornaments while I start the cookies and dinner.”

“‘Kay,” Harry hums, leaving a kiss on my forehead. “Missed you . . missed this.”

“Missed you,” I smile with melancholy sticking to its edges, leaning into his touch as a long sigh leaves my lips. In the silence, my hand drifts along his back and to the hole that I know mars the red flannel he wears. I’d told him how many times to get rid of it already, but he can’t give it up. “What do you want to do for Christmas day, for a meal?”

“Was actually gonna ask you t’ come t’ me mum’s, she does a Christmas lunch ev’ry year with Gemma and tha kids.”

“Yeah, that sounds fun. I’ve really missed Harper and Ollie,” I remark, closing my eyes and inhaling his smell dotted with fresh pine.

“They’ve missed ya too, bug. Harper hasn’t stopped askin’ when ‘m gonna bring Anty Becky over,” he almost wheezes. I don’t stop myself early enough, because it’s too late, and I hear the sadness clinging to his voice. That hellish month wasn’t contained to just us, and I see it in people’s wandering glances at the firm. Maybe even more now that rumor’s gone around that we’ve gotten back together, only fueled by our public friendliness with each other since, and despite the professionalism we both tried to carry. I’d missed his niece and nephew more than I thought I could, his sister, and his mum too, and when those thoughts appeared in my head it all hurt even more. I didn’t know that my heart could squeeze any more pain out after losing him, and in the way that I did.

Sometimes, the silence feels unsettling still, and I hate that. I hate the hesitance I see in his actions still when he goes to touch me, or the look on his face at dinner with Myles and Jeanie the other night when the waiter berated him to order a drink too. It’d only continued the next day when it was my first time back at his house and the wine cabinet was starkly empty, and so were all of the spots that held my things. Neither of us had brought up me moving back in yet, and sometimes I thought I was ready to . . sometimes.

“Yer not goin’ t’ Madley Christmas day are you?” he hums, pulling me away from my thoughts, and I welcome it. “Course, if you are that’s okay.”

“No. Um, I’m going the day after, that’s when we always do it. You’re welcome to come, if you’d like.”

“Hmmm,” he thinks aloud, warmth spreading across my scalp when his closed mouth rests there. “I dunno, Robbie seemed rather pissed tha other day when he stopped by tha firm and saw me, so I can only imagine how yer dad would act.”

“Harry-,” I start, moving away so I can look at him, but he doesn’t let me.

“‘s fine, Becks, okay? I don’t blame ‘em. ‘m gonna go and grab tha decorations befo’ it gets too late. I don’t wanna be up all night cookin’ and decoratin’,” he finishes, leaving my arms. I nod silently to myself, arms cold and empty as I watch him walk away, assuring myself it’s okay and I’m okay because he’s coming back.

Only a few days after getting back together, and I wish things would go back to normal already. I’ve never gotten my wish for normalcy, now have I?

“Stop it, I mean it,” Harry attempts, but the firmness in his voice is lacking as a laugh interrupts it. “We both know that ya know all tha words, but I wanna hear ‘em too, ‘kay?”

“Fine, but for the record, you’re no fun.”

“Reckon we both know that too,” he answers, feeding buttered popcorn between his bubblegum pink lips. My eyes return to the telly where the other Harry and Marv continue their infiltration into Kevin’s house, but he anticipates their plan, and I giggle at the next booby trap he’s set.

Looking to my Harry, I find him lost in the bowl of popcorn that sits on his lap where he lies beside me in my bed. Clearing my throat loudly, he looks up and over to me, lifting a brow. “Are you sure you’re okay?” I ask, repeating the question I’ve asked too many times today, and I know it.

“Yes, ‘m fine.”

“You sure? Because Home Alone is a cinematic masterpiece and if it doesn’t make you happy then there something’s wrong with you,” I joke, tossing a Red Vine onto his lap, missing the popcorn bowl that he’s peering into again while sifting around for a chocolate drizzled one. “I’m just kidding, it’s only a film, but you haven’t been yourself today, Harry, or well, yesterday either. For a few days now. Will you please tell me what’s bothering you . . so I can help?”

“There’s plenty o’ things,” he whispers, and my face creases into a question.

“What’d you say?” I ask slowly and seriously.

“I said there’s plenty o’ plain popcorn in here, far too many ‘cuz somebody ate all o’ tha chocolate ones,” he says with a shake of his head, picking up the licorice that soon appears between his teeth. He rips at it until he begins to chew and meets my eyes with a forced smile.

“You snooze, you lose,” I tease and he offers a laugh in between the licorice as my eyes stray to my artificial Christmas tree. I watch the twinkling lights dance along the window, wishing it felt like Christmas and all of its cheeriness.

I can’t remember the last time that I had a happy Christmas.

What wakes me is a creaking sound, and when I look around, the sun isn’t peeking through the windows and the birds aren’t chirping. The multi-colored lights donning the tree are the only light around me, and they shed some on the section of bed next to me. The sheets absent of Harry. Instead, they hold a half folded page which pulls my eyes to my desk where I can just make out my favorite journal from Harry, opened and with a pen sitting in its middle.

Sitting up, I turn the light on and grab at the paper, immediately opening it. Little did I know that after reading its secrets, that part of me would feel ashamed for wishing that I’d never read it and just gone back to sleep. Ignorant and blissful. The other side of me reads it quick and fast, feeling my heart climb in speed with every word that my eyes can’t believe.

Becks,

I’m sorry, love, but I just can’t do this. I can’t do this to you. I’m not enough for you and I don’t know why I ever thought that I could be. You deserve so much better than me, so fucking much. I’ve been going to the meetings and I think that they help, but I had a drink last night and I wanted to keep going and I did. I stopped myself, but I hate myself for not stopping myself earlier than that. I don’t want to do this to you again, and I won’t. Please don’t try to change my mind, because you can’t. I love you, so so much, Rebecca Ann, and that’s why I have to do this. I have to leave, because I don’t want to keep ruining your life. I’ve been doing that for far too long, years now. I love you more than I could ever make you know and I hope that you can forgive me one day. Call that bloke Max that liked you the one time, he seemed like a catch. I dunno.

Merry Christmas,

Harry xoxoxo

Tears had already begun their descent down my cheeks, from the very first words, and they only grew stronger as I went further down the page. I didn’t remember that I was holding it as I tore from the bed and into the hallway, searching for him in every corner. In the flat, through the hallways, on the lift, and in the lobby downstairs. I couldn’t find his face, and the fright grew and grew inside of me until I thought I would explode from it. It followed me through the green lights and threatened to topple over at the red ones. It led my feet to his door and to the spare key I know that he hides under the flowerpot on his porch, and guided me blindly through the empty house. The twinkling lights on the tree greeted it and shrunk in its sight, our tree. Our home. The fright sent me out of there with a new sob and it fed another when I got onto the lift and walked through the dark halls.

It only began to shrink when the door to the firm opened with ease in my hand, and I was met with the emptiness of its walls. My impatient steps echoed loudly in my ears and I couldn’t care if I tried, not even when they stopped in front of the door bearing his name and the words ‘Managing Partner & Attorney’ below it. The fear grew at the lack of light underneath his door, but it was smacked down when the handle twisted in my grip, and I found him before me. If he heard me, he didn’t show it. If he knew I was coming, he didn’t try hard enough to hide. He didn’t lock the doors behind him of his own firm, unoccupied on a Saturday. He didn’t try hard enough, and that’s all that I cared about.

“You really think that a lousy note is going to make me stay away a-and stop loving you?” I cry, lingering in his doorway, wanting to surround him with myself but not knowing if he’d let me. His head falls where he stands in front of his window, looking nothing like himself in trainers and a hoodie, his makeshift pajamas. “Harry, y-you had a relapse, it’s okay.”

“But ‘s not, Becks,” he says in a strained voice, his figure soon shaking with a sob. “‘s not gonna be okay when at Christmas yer dad stares at me with disdain in his eyes knowing what I did t’ you- t’ us, and knowin’ deep down that it could happen again ‘cuz I can’t stop,” he insists, vigor in his voice. “‘s not gonna be okay when it creeps up on me down tha road when we have kids, and I pick up tha bottle ‘cuz ‘m stressed out from late nights with a baby.”

Gulping, my throat feels dry with the absence of words and the onslaught of tears. The wanting to know what to say stirs the verbs and adjectives within me, but they don’t go anywhere. Then again, neither is he right now and that seems to be the only comfort that I can find in this moment.

“‘s not okay, Becks. ‘m not okay,” Harry says with languid plaguing his voice, refusing to turn around.

“But I love you even when you’re not okay,” I insist, my clenched fists shaking despite my attempts to calm them, and yet the only thing that could calm me has run away from me. “I do, and I always will, Harry! That’s why I came back, because I love you and I want to help you. Yes, you hurt me, but I forgive you because I love you. I love you because I forgive you,” I sob, wishing that he would say something - that he’s sorry for leaving and that he’ll try again. I just wish for something to come out of his mouth, because his silence is terrifying me. I don’t know how much more I can take.

I know that I can’t take a world of mine without him in it, and too many years of yearning for him across a room doesn’t count. I can’t do that again, not any of it. That’s what pulls my feet away from the door and towards him.

“I’m not leaving you, I’m not going anywhere no matter how hard you try to get rid of me. I’m going to stay and help you, please just let me,” I beg, curling my fingers around his forearm, watching a tear collect at the point of his nose. “Can we please just go home and go back to bed? I want to spend Christmas with my best friend this week, even if things aren’t okay.”

“‘m broken, Becks. ‘m a mess, how could you love me still?” he asks quietly, lifting his eyes to peer out onto the sleeping town where only the lights are awake. Lights strewn on trees in the park and alive on the buildings. “I thought ‘d feel okay when we got back t’getha, and I did . . but then I didn’t. I dunno what happened . . what’s happenin’ t’ me. How can you love somebody like that?”

“Make sure that I don’t have a drink?” he says in a tone that I don’t like. Squeezing his hand doesn’t help, it doesn’t spur life into him or send encouragement to him. “Ya can’t be there ev’ry moment o’ ev’ry day makin’ sure that I don’t drink, Becks, and I don’t want you t’. You deserve such a betta life than what I can give you,” he continues, meeting my eyes for the first time since I stepped into the room. Now, I wish that he hadn’t, because I see it before I stop myself. I see the answer in his eyes, the one that’s probably been there all along and the one that I couldn’t take away. The one that I can’t take away.

It stays there in front of my eyes, when he walks out of the room and when I fall back into my bed with defeat and my eyes stinging with the arrival of new tears. It stays there as I stare at the tree from under my sheets, and when I unplug it and shove it in the closet. It remains as I toss and turn under the sheets, and when I wake with his smell on the pillowcase, lulling me into a nonexistence that stays until I remember. I wish that I hadn’t.

He didn’t answer. His texts or his calls. His doorbell. His emails. He wasn’t there at work, at the team meeting, or at the pre-trial for our client. I was afraid to ask at first, but then I was texting his mum and his sister before I knew it, asking if they’d heard from him. I asked Myles, Rory, and Rose, and they didn’t know either. Nobody did.

I absently continued to work on our case, despite the worry that climbed in my gut, not knowing where he was or if he was okay. It all hurt too much and suddenly, I hated him again for hurting me like this. The pain only came harder when I thought about how he thought he was saving me from the pain when he was only inflicting it more.

Wiping a stubborn tear from my cheek, I exhale shakily and close the folder in front of me filled with his handwriting. I gulp and return to Docs on my Macbook, and stare at the blinking cursor, unsure of what to do. He always knew what to do in these lost moments. The next best step for a case, who to interview, where the best place is to find evidence, who to nudge at the courthouse for information, and how to make me feel better. My shoulders sag and I feel the wall inside of me begin to crumble.

Knock knock!

Whipping my head towards the door, I see a glimpse of him until I blink a tear away and he runs away. Again.

“Hey,” Myles says softly, hovering in my doorway, unable to meet my eyes. “Is it a bad time? I can come back later.”

“No no, it’s okay . . Have you heard from him?”

“Yeah,” he begins, but his voice doesn’t fill with happiness or drench me with relief. The way that his eyes are strangers to mine don’t wick the tears away. “He’s okay, Becky, but he wants to be left alone. He wanted me to tell you that he loves you and that he’s sorry, but he needs some time to himself. He’ll contact you when . . when he’s ready . . I’m sorry, love,” he finishes, at last meeting my eyes, if only for a moment. “Please, let me know if you need anything, anything at all. And, I’ve asked Rory to take over this case, since he’s the only one free at the mo’. So, go home and take it easy, okay? Take care of yourself, and have a merry Christmas.”

I see it. The way that he corrects himself too late, knowing what he just said by habit. He can’t take it back now, the habitual ‘Merry Christmas,’ and I can’t withdraw the pain that slaps me in the face and leaves me looking at the floor. That’s all that I wanted, a merry Christmas, and he stole away every chance of that. A small ‘thanks’ greets the air around me before his leaving footfall, and I watch the tears fall onto my desk. Onto the keys of my Macbook that he got for me, a purple case and all, and the desk that he picked just for me. There are small puddles littering its surface by the time I pull myself away from it and start my way home, sure a happy Christmas’ doesn’t exist.

“You’re sure it’s okay if I go?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine, Ree,” Skye insists with a sigh filled with sorrow. Even the tips of her fingertips against my forehead leave trails of it along my skin.

“Maybe if I say it enough times, I will be.”

“Oh, Ree,” she exhales with honey coating her words, and I hate it.

I hate all of this. Lying in bed like a pathetic mope on Christmas Eve, even denying Robbie to meet his new girlfriend, and Dad to come home early. I told the both of them that I was sick, and although it didn’t feel far off, the guilt ate at me. It was surpassed by the fear and anguish at the prospect of telling them the truth, and how it eradicated the balance that had been restored to my life within the last week. Once again, it had been chucked into the bin, and I didn’t know what to do, or how to do anything. I didn’t know how to be okay again, and somehow, this time hurt worse than when he would get plastered and yell at me. Somehow, him leaving willingly and in the right mind was far worse.

“I won’t be gone all night . . Ring me if ya need me, alright? I love you, Ree. I wish that there was more I could do,” she exhales, leaving with an awkward kiss to my temple, and then she’s gone.

An emptiness sings throughout the flat and I watch the twinkling of a star long off in the distance. I wish that I could be there, far and away from all of this, like the Grinch separated from the Whos. But, that’s not what I want and I know that. I just want him, a happy Christmas with him.

A creaking awakes me and I sigh, rubbing the back of my hand against my eyes while licking my lips, “I’m fine, Skye, go away. I’m trying to sleep,” I groan with a yawn breaking through my words. Groaning, I shuffle my legs under the covers until I find a good spot again.

The bed dips underneath me and my annoyed moan follows suit, especially when somebody slips under the covers behind me. Mutterings escape my lips and I yank the covers higher, rejecting their arms that come around me, until I freeze. My eyes fly open and I inhale again, and again. The scratchy feeling against my cheek does it, and I spin around, knocking heads with the person. Him.

“Ouch!” he exclaims, holding his forehead. A laugh unfolds on his lips as his breath wafts over me, and all of a sudden, he’s real. He’s here and I’m okay. “You okay, love? Ya really hit yer noggin’ hard with mine,” he continues, wheezing between his words.

“Becks?” he asks and I nod emphatically, and then, I begin to sob suddenly. “Oh, honeybug, c’mere.”

“Harry,” I sigh shakily into his neck when he surrounds me with his arms, and I find his holey flannel with my hands.

“‘m so sorry, Becks, ‘m so fookin’ sorry. I thought I could do it without you, but I can’t, baby, I can’t. Please, don’t let me do it without you. Don’t ever lemme leave you again, I was such a bloody idiot. ‘m so sorry, I ruined our first Christmas t’getha, baby,” he rushes from above me, worry sewn into his voice until his tears make their arrival.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s not ruined, just please never leave me again. I can’t- I can’t do any of this without you either, none of it. I can help. I’ll go with to the meetings, if you want Just, tell me what I need to do to help and I will. I just want to help you, Harry, I love you so much,” I confess impatiently, finding warmth in his stubbly neck and his scent that I’ve missed almost as much as him.

“All I need ‘s t’ be with you, promise. I love you, baby, I love you, I love you, I love you. Ev’rythin’s gonna be okay, we’re gonna be okay, ‘m gonna be okay, and yer gonna be okay,” he coos to me, sponging kisses along my head and forehead until he’s brought my eyes forward and to him. A small smile curves his lips upwards and he touches his finger to my nose. “Can’t tell you enough how sorry I am. I got on a flight, can’t even rememba where. I jus’ had t’ get away from here, but I knew I did tha wrong thing not long afta, and it was a mess tryin’ t’ get back with layovers and all that shit with Christmas.” I nod, watching him lace his hand with mine and give it a squeeze.

“I’m just glad you’re back and that you’re okay.”

“Me too, sweetheart,” he echos, dipping to kiss me on the lips. Pulling away, his eyes leave mine, and I turn to follow his to the window behind me. “Looks like I made it in time, 12:05 . . Merry Christmas, Becks,” he hums when I look back to him and the words soon meet the air in my voice, too.

“Merry Christmas, Harry,” I sigh, laying my head against his chest. He moves to lie on his back and his arms stay surrounding me while his lips find the crown of my head.

“Sleep, baby, ‘m not goin’ anywhere, not ever again. I know we both need it . . We’ll do presents in tha mornin’ at mine, ‘kay? And finish our Home Alone marathon and cookie decoratin’ too. Promise, promise ‘m never leavin’ you ‘gain, sweet girl.”

“Okay,” I reply sleepily, feeling myself relax when his fingers start to dance through my hair.

“Becks.”

I hear my name and then feel the kiss that follows it, and the next one. A loud raspberry on my cheek eliminates any chance of falling back to sleep. What sounds obnoxious and loud fills a laugh that graces my ears, and yet, I couldn’t want to wake up to something more than that exact sound.

“Harry,” I say, joining with his laughter that grows as more raspberries cover my face. “Stop it,” I groan, but I don’t mean it and I think he knows it, because he continues. At last, he stops and I’m left staring up at the man of my dreams, unshaven and with the cutest of bedheads.

“Merry Christmas, bug,” he coos with a contagious happiness to his lips that spreads to mine when I kiss him.

“Hey, at least these aren’t burnt,” he remarks as I sit down next to him and try to hide a smile. “Dontchu even gimme that look, ‘m doin’ this fer you, and I swear if you bloody tell anybody.”

“What? I didn’t say anything,” I giggle and he rolls his eyes as he bites off the snowman’s head from his sugar cookie. “By the way, you’re going to ruin your appetite.”

“Such a mum you are already,” he sighs, holding the rest of the cookie between his teeth as he sits up on his knees to reach under the tree. “Pickin’ out me clothes fer me and tellin’ me I can’t have cookies befo’ our meal. Tsk tsk,” he groans dramatically as he picks up a giftbag with holiday greetings scrawled on its outside.

I laugh and watch him set it in front of me, and it only makes me wonder how he pulled this all off. I had had my presents for him wrapped and under the tree for a few days now, before everything went to shit, but somehow under the tree has grown fuller since then. I haven’t dared to ask or even make a joke about it, because I just want to enjoy this, even in all of its silliness and sadness. Even when my smile dims at the memory of waking up to that note and how it flipped my world upside down when I thought he had just placed it rightside up.

“Hey, ‘m kiddin’ ‘round. Tha pj’s are cozy, and tha cookies are delicious. ‘m sure yer breakfast cookin’ in tha oven will be too,” Harry hums with a strong smile, squeezing my arm. I nod and watch as he looks away to answer a text, having told me that he gave his family a fright too and now they won’t stop bugging him. “C’mere, you, time t’ open yer first present,” he says and he surprises me by lifting me up to place on his lap. Giggles erupt into the air when his fingertips caress my sides and his stubbly lips pepper kisses along my neck.

I wish I could freeze this moment and stay in it forever.

The next few days passed and they were rather normal and that’s all that I could ask for. An unsettling awkwardness passed after a few minutes of being at my dad’s house, and at Harry’s mum’s. Harper and Robbie were to thank for that, whether it was Robbie showing Harry his new guitar or Harper clinging to my leg the second I walked in the door and refusing to ever let me leave.

Sitting on Harry’s sofa under the glow of the Christmas lights now, I heave a sigh remembering the last few days and how wonderfully ordinary they were. Even with the A.A. meeting over Zoom that we worked in and the way our families went to lengths to leave alcohol out of their glasses and out of the conversation.

“What took you so long? I want to start the movie before we get too tired,” I moan, falling to lie on my stomach as I peer up at him taking the stairs two at a time.

“Sorry, I had one mo’ thing t’ wrap,” Harry answers, padding across the wooden floor to me where I wait with rosy cheeks. His own soon dimple with a smile when he falls onto the sofa next to me, once again lifting me onto his lap. He breathes in loudly and then yawns before nuzzling his cheek against mine, brushing his fingers against my side. “Open it,” he says, placing a small box in my hands.

I oblige and begin to tear the red wrapping paper away from the dainty box until I’m looking at a black matte box with a lid. “Harry,” I say warily, turning to look at him behind me. His smile stays and he nods towards the box.

“‘s not that, promise. Jus’ open it and you’ll see,” he insists, sponging a peck to my temple. “I know we’re both not ready yet,” he comments and I inhale slowly as I lift the top off to find a shining, silver ring waiting for me.

“Harry, is this . . ,” I try to say, but my emotions get the best of me as I turn around to face him and his reddening cheeks.

“‘s a promise ring, a knot ring, they call it . . . It symbolizes a knot that’s not tied quite yet, but I have ev’ry intention of tyin’ it one day, when we’re both ready. This ‘s a promise I swear t’ ya I won’t ever break,” he explains, and his widening smile grows blurry from the happy tears that fill my eyes. “I hope those are happy tears, love . . I love you, Becks, so much and ‘m so sorry for what ‘ve put you thru’ lately. I know that I can’t do life without you in mine, and ‘m done tryin’ to be too strong or noble- or whatever. ‘ve known for awhile that I wanted you in my life fer always . . make you Mrs. Styles one day and have loads o’ babies t’getha . . Will you wear it, bug?”

“Yes, yes, of course,” I answer, swiping at the tears on my cheeks. A nervously happy laugh coats his lips as he lifts the dainty ring from its place and takes my left hand in his. “Wow, you’re really good at this,” I joke and he nods laughing while sliding it onto my ring finger, punctuating it with a kiss.

“Thanks, hope so.”

“And what do we tell people when they ask why I have this on my ring finger?” I ask him, watching him close the box and set aside before winding his arms around me.

“That ‘s a promise ring, ‘course,” he tells me, pressing a kiss below my eye. His smell surrounds me when his forehead comes to rest against mine. I lean against him and glance down to my hand, holding it out in front of me to admire it. “Does it fit alright? I tried t’ rememba what size you are, but we can get it adjusted. I hafta say it looks perfect on you, ‘s just a shame it came in tha mail late.”

“It’s perfect, Harry,” I answer, not knowing if there are any other words that could do it justice. “God, you have to stop one-upping me on presents all of the time,” I titter and his loud chuckle echoes mine as I relax against him, staring at the ring.

“Hmm, not sure I could do betta than this next year,” he says, and we both hear it in there. The way he said it with nervousness wicking his words away that maybe next year will follow this tradition with another ring.

“There’s no need to. This Christmas was so great, Harry.”

“But it wasn’t perfect, and ‘m sorry fer that,” he comments sadly from above me where he hooks his chin over the top of my head.

“It was, just getting to spend it with you made it so.”

“I really dunno what ‘d do without you, bug,” Harry confesses softly as the fireplace crackles away beneath the tv that waits for us. The scratchy feeling of his stubble leaves my head, and when I glance up I find his eyes glassy with tears. “‘ll be makin’ it up t’ you fer tha rest o’ me life that I ever tried t’ test that.”

“It’s okay, I forgive you . . because I love you,” I tell him, my thumb greeting his warm skin slick from his lingering sadness.

“I love you mo’.”

“I love you most,” I say, completing our special saying, something I can’t remember saying since before all of this shit started.

“I love you mostest,” he follows up, and my jaw soon hangs as I stare at him in disbelief before our lips dissolve into a laugh.

“Harry!” I shriek when his lips soon cover my face in kisses, and his fingers litter tickles along my body. I lie there in his arms, savoring the sound of our laughs mixing together, hoping that it will always be like this.

I hope that it will always be this easy to love him.

My buzzing phone brings me back to the present. I find the strength to pull away from Harry and locate my phone in the folds of blankets. A text lights up my home screen once I locate it, and my lips soon fly higher.

“Hey,” I say slowly, turning my eyes to Harry to find him tracing the ring on my finger. He looks up with a question quirking his brows and my heart squeezes at the sight of him. How can a grown man be so adorable? “Is it okay if we push the movie off until tomorrow?”

“Sure, why d’ya ask?”

“You wanna go to a Christmas party with me?”

“A Christmas party? On December 28th?” he almost laughs, his greens twinkling underneath his knitted brows.

“Yeah, it’s- oh, nevermind actually,” I say, embarrassment whisking my eyes away from him and to my lap. God, how can I be so stupid to even ask?

“Hey, what’s tha matter, bug? I don’t mind goin’, and I might actually wanna if you tell me who’s throwin’ it.”

“No, it’s okay. I changed my mind, I don’t want to go anymore. Don’t worry, please,” I insist, a nervous laugh marking my words. His fingers had stilled on mine and I take the chance to adjust the piece of jewelry on my finger. “Wow, it’s so pretty and shiny.”

“Becks, don’t change tha subject,” Harry almost sighs, taking my hand in is and hiding the ring away from sight. “Then let’s go and show off that ring o’ yers, at this party.”

I remain quiet, growing chilly at the silence that seeps into our conversation and we both know it. The difficulty of saying it steals the words away from me and the gap between us grows larger with every second.

“Rebecca Ann,” he says with impatience spilling over in his voice. His palm is a welcomed warmth against my cheek with its cradle. “What aren’t you tellin’ me? Y’know you can tell me anythin’ in tha entire world . . ‘s always been that way b’tween us.”

“I don’t think it would be a good idea, Harry, it’s a party. They . . “

“Oh,” he says, the realization heavy in his tone.

“I don’t mean it like-,” I begin, finding the nervous sadness in his green eyes that try to stray, but they don’t go far.

“I know you didn’t mean it like that, Becks,” he remarks with a curve to his lips, leaving a kiss on my forehead. “Thanks fer lookin’ out fer me, bug, but I feel okay. I think I can be ‘round alcohol without losin’ it right now, so why don’t we give that party a shot, huh?”

“Really?” I ask, perking up in my seat beside him. He nods with a happy sound tumbling off his lips.

“But, first, you hafta tell me whose party this ‘s. ‘m dyin’ t’ find out.”

“Bloody hell, I dunno ‘bout this, Becks. Reckon ‘m too old fer shit like this.”

“Hush, believe it or not, there are people here older than you, Harry,” I tease him, chuckling at the way his jaw hangs loose from his face in disbelief. On my tippy toes, I press my lips to his cheek and pull him forward.

“Wait, so what ‘s this ‘gain? I don’t understand.”

“It’s a Christmas party . . for my cohort,” I tell him, leading him through the throngs of people filling the large apartment. Many mingle in groups with drinks in hand, and I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw the sparkling grape juice and sodas claiming the counter, instead of only beers and Whiteclaws.

“Oh yeah, reckon ‘s been a year since ya graduated. God, already?”

“I know, right?” I say, squeezing his hand when I see that proud glint in his eye. The twinkling Christmas lights donning the space catch my eye as well as the ugly sweater memo that I’m glad I didn’t miss. “Wait, is that- No way, Becky!”

A shock of red curls turns around to face me, and their face explodes with happiness. Before I know it, they’re crossing the small space and I’m swallowed by their arms in a hug.

“Hi to you too, Rube,” I laugh into her hair that smells of cherries, just like the last time.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?!” she exclaims after she finally lets me free.

“Si and I wanted to surprise you.”

“Well, you did a good job of that,” she comments, and within seconds, I’m forgotten. “Oooo, who’s this?” she teases to me, bumping her shoulder against mine. “Wait, is this-?” Ruby cuts herself off short as realization dawns on her face as her eyes stay pointed on Harry who glances around the room mindlessly.

“Ruby, this is my boyfriend, Harry. And, Harry, this is my best friend from uni, Ruby Tucker,” I say, suddenly remembering all of the times I wanted to do this, and most important of all, that day in the lecture hall.

Looking to my side, I watch as Harry comes back to us and his eyes wander to Ruby whose infectious smile affects his own. The dimples soon fall and his eyes come to life as he holds out his other hand to her that she takes.

“Pleasure t’ meet you, Ruby, ‘ve heard good things ‘bout you,” he says warmly. A laugh sputters in my throat when I watch Ruby’s cheeks turn the same shade as her hair.

“I bet I’ve got you beat for that,” she says, flitting her eyes to me before briefly winking.

“Oh, ‘s that right? Care t’ tune me in on this, Becks?” he poses to me, lifting an eyebrow as a question waits in his teasing eyes.

“Becks?” Ruby coos and I shake my head at the both of them.

“Just that day in the lecture hall when you came to talk to our class.”

“Ah, makes sense. What, were you lot droolin’ over me too?” he jokes and Ruby’s loud laugh fills the air around us, interrupting the Christmas jingles.

“No,” I insist, but Ruby disagrees. Soon, I find that my cheeks could give hers a run for their money as they flame with embarrassment. “Fine, I may have gotten a little lost in the moment.”

“‘m sure that’s all you did,” Harry teases and I shove at his arm, savoring the sound of his laugh. It falls to an end when he caresses my head with his hand and kisses the top of my head.

“Hell, you two couldn’t be any cuter,” Ruby comments from beside us, and I feel my cheeks fill with warmth. “I’m really happy for you two. Really, I am. I can’t remember ever seeing you this happy, Becky.” Tears prick at my eyes when she squeezes my arm and smiles at me like she’s never done before. “Lemme go and find that guy of ours, I bet he’s the one behind this plan.”

“I like her,” Harry wheezes next to me, and I find the full smile that sits on his lips when I look. It shines down on me as his finger coasts along my forehead, moving a lock of hair out of my eyes. “I must agree with her, it makes me so happy t’ see how well yer doin’ now. Reckon I only saw a glimpse o’ yer life back then in uni, but yer happier now, I can tell.”

“Hmm, I can only wonder why,” I giggle and he tries not to. A Mariah Carey song comes on next and the room erupts in loud cheers. My eyes fall to our intertwined hands and my spare that covers his, tracing the familiar curves of his rings.

“Well, lookie who it is!” somebody almost shouts. I know the voice without even having to look. “Becky and her main man!”

“Hi, Si,” I smile as he approaches us in a red and green Fair Isle sweater, considerably dominant to Ruby’s grandma looking one. Harry lucked out with a festive knit sweater with several shades of red, but he could make a hospital gown look good. Meanwhile, the next best thing I could find in Harry’s closet was a blue and white number with a cheery snowman on the front.

“Hey, and Harry it ‘s, correct?” Si says, stepping forward with an outstretched hand. They both shake hands as Harry nods, and then I’m pulled into Si’s strong arms. Laughing, I make a break for it moments later, remembering I hadn’t seen them since graduation, or sometime around then.

“I knew it, you know,” he says to Ruby beside him, shaking his head with a glow to his face.

“Me too,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest as she smiles at me, knowingly.

“You knew what?” I ask them, finding Harry’s hand again with my own. Mysterious laughs float between them and they spur one on mine, but mine fills with nervousness as I trace the knot on my ring finger.

“That you’d go and work for Harry, again. Duh,” Si says, as if it’s the easiest secret in the world.

“I bet Si fifty pounds you’d go back.”

“I bet Rube seventy that you’d be back in three months,” he jests, straight white teeth showing behind his wide smile as laughs overcome the four of us.

“You guys are so bad!” I chuckle, looking to Harry who just shrugs his shoulders.

“What? We both shoulda seen it coming, it was a given, Becks.”

“Becks, huh? I haven’t heard that one before,” Si comments, bringing a tall stein to his lips. He pulls it away and wipes at the creamy yellow liquid left behind on his lips.

“Ya, um . . I called her by her last name fer awhile-.”

“And some last names that weren’t mine,” I interrupt, making everybody laugh, even Harry who seems to remember for the first time in awhile.

“As I was sayin’,” he continues, raising his eyebrows at me. “I got tired o’ Holte, tha name and tha girl.” Cue the laughing. “Anyways, I dunno, nothin’ else seemed right. Not tha classic Becky, ‘cuz ev’rybody who was anybody called her that. She was never called Rebecca, or Becca, but Becks jus’ fit her somehow,” Harry concludes, and for a few moments, it’s like there aren’t twenty people around us. It’s just us, and his neverending green eyes.

“Looks like that ring fits rather well too,” Si comments, and my eyes go searching before I realize what he’s saying.

“Si, you idiot, they’d tell you if they were ready,” Ruby scolds him, swatting at his arm.

“Um, ow!” Si exclaims, shaking his head at her. “Sorry,” he tells us after Ruby gives him a good glare.

“It’s okay, it’s not an engagement ring. Harry got me a promise ring,” I tell them, and yet, I can’t keep my eyes off of Harry whose sunshine beats down on me.

“That’s so great, Becky, congrats to you two!”

“I haven’t even met a bloke who’s cute enough for me, and look at you two,” Si exhales, draining the rest of his drink with a sad smile.

“Don’t be a party pooper,” Ruby remarks, shoving him away from her when he gives her a goofy look. “Anyways, I want to hear about all of your cases together! I can’t believe you got into Styles and Lawson, Becky- Well, I can now, but tell me about it! You two got that massive Lawton and Williams case, how was that?”

“Yeah, we’ve just been dying over here, dragging our feet through dry civil cases at Xavier’s,” Simon says with a roll of his eyes, but flashes me a smile.

“Oh, yer at Xave’s? If yer lookin’ fer somethin’ new, my partner and I are hirin’ fer a new position, maybe we could fit one o’ you newbies in. We always love havin’ new graduates- well, yer a year old now, but if you’d be up fer it,” Harry announces, and my heart swells at the emotion on the both of their faces.

“It’s a bloody miracle one of us is dating a bigshot lawyer innit? Any cute guys work at your firm, Harry?” Simon says, and us two girls bust out laughing as he looks around confused. Harry stays silent and Simon remains serious until his lips coated in eggnog spew a laugh and then we’re all laughing. “Just jokin’, mate!”

They followed us into every next conversation and between our cups of eggnog and plates of cookies. I certainly wouldn’t have thought this time last year after graduating uni and missing the hell out of him that I’d be here. Sitting next to Harry on a sofa with my two best lawyer friends sharing stories as we all died laughing, and with a promise ring on my finger.

I slowly started to let myself believe that things could be good again.

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