Strangers

Chapter 87: Locked

A/N: IM GONNA BE SICK. 

I wandered the city aimlessly for an hour or so, till I could finally bring myself to go back to the station and wait for what felt like forever for the next Eurostar back to London. There were delays, something about technical issues or construction or something stupid. The journey felt like forever really. I think even if it had only been an hour it would’ve felt like forever. What am I going to tell Gemma?

How am I going to explain to her that I missed my chance with Harry, because I was too stubborn to see what was right in front of me the whole time?

I feel numb.

I feel this way because of him so much.

I’m surprised my heart is even capable of feeling anything anymore. It feels like it’s been beaten raw.

I stare blankly at the window the entire journey home. The butterflies in my stomach have well and truly died, replaced by a feeling of emptiness I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy.

I tried so hard.

I did everything in my power to make him see that I was ready for this, and I wanted to make it work. But he’s turned his back on us for good, because I convinced him too, why am I so convincing?
I hate being a lawyer for this reason alone.

Fucking hell.

I’m unsurprised to see that it’s pissing down rain while I wait for a cab. The weather in London has an eerie way of reflecting how I feel inside. Today is no exception.

I feel miserable and like something has extinguished the fire inside of me. So the rain is apt.

I feel bad that my shoes are leaving puddles of water in the lift. If they weren’t, I’m sure the tears that are spilling from my eyes would be able to create puddles of a similar magnitude. Or it feels like it anyway.

Pull yourself together, Lola.

The lift doors open and I stare at the ground as I take off my soaking wet coat, hanging it on the coat stand before looking up into the kitchen.

My eyes widen, my stomach churn and my heart skips a lot of crucial beats.

Harry stands behind the kitchen counter, a tub of ice cream on the middle of the counter between us.

“W-what?” I gulp, my voice cracking before I can finish my sentence. My feet carry me slowly through the room till I’m on the other side of the counter, staring across at his glistening eyes. The way he’s looking at me is enough to bring the butterflies in my stomach back to life.

“After you left, I had this insane craving for chocolate ice cream.” He says softly, looking at the bench.

“They don’t sell chocolate ice cream in Paris?” I ask, trying not to smile because I can feel the intensity of the moment and I don’t want to ruin it.

My stomach is flipping, my heart beating louder than it should be.

“No, this is the only place you can get the kind of chocolate ice cream I want.” He explains, smiling slightly.

Swoon.

“We have an endless supply here.” I murmur, carrying on the metaphor.

His arms are behind his back, and he shakes his head back to get the hair off his face.

“You have to choose one hand, or both. In one hand, I have a key to my…our new house, and in the other…a surprise.” He says, and I can see the muscles in his arms clench as though he’s tightened his grip on the items in his hand.