Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
- chapter one: the king in my pub -
𝕴 love my job.
I suppose that I've always enjoyed being around people, listening to their stories and perspectives fascinated me. Which made owning a pub the perfect employment. I got to see all sorts of people. We got honeymooners and rough old fishermen, sweet old ladies and parents with children, all under one roof. And I got to talk to all of them.
I thought about this as I stared up at the dark london sky, happy to be breathing in the cold air. The stars were shining especially bright tonight, you could actually make out quite a few. I turned when I heard the bell on my front door jingle, watching a young couple walk out of my bar.
"Have a good night," I smiled. They waved back at me politely before contiuing on their way, arm and arm down the street. I smiled to myself.
My mum has always told me that I'm a "hopeless sap" who'll never find true love because my standards are too high. I always told her to blame Darcy, Heathcliff, Benedict, and Vronsky for that. I sighed, romance is so much simpler in books.
"That's the last of em' Miss O'Malley," called my busboy from inside, his voice knocking me out of my broken-hearted daydream. I walked back into the pub, listening to the bell ring as I entered.
I really loved that bell.
"Could take the trash out to the bin?" I asked, walking back behind the bar.
"Of course Miss O'Malley!" He called out, walking to the back so he could grab the bag. I followed him, leaning against the door frame. I watched him work, knawing a bit on my lip as I thought. It was a bad habit, and I knew it. Johanna always said it made me look angry, even though I rarely got so.
"Harry, you do know that you can call me Rose." I spoke, following him into the back kitchen. I grabbed a caddy full of cleaning supplies off one of the shelves.
"Mum says to always call ladies Miss or Missus, its polite." He replied quietly. The boy had always been shy. His mother suspected some kind of mental problem, but was far too scared to go and get him tested. I enjoyed talking with him, hearing how he saw the world. It fascinated me. I suppose that's why I hired him.
"I suppose she is correct..." I mumbled, looking down at the cleaning supplies I held in my hands. I watched as he left through the back door, listening to the clinking of bottles as he threw the bag into the bin. He returned, immediately grabbing a towel and going to wipe off a table. He was always so straight forward, he never seemed to dilly dally around a task. I'll admit that I was jealous of that, I could never seem to keep everything straight in my head.
"Is everything okay at home Harry? With your dad and everything?" I asked, crossing my arms around myself. He looked up for a moment, but then quickly looked back at the table. He gave a small nod and I could feel my expression soften.
