My Beloved ~ H.S.

Chapter Twenty: Winning

"Harry?" I mumble out in shock, even though I know exactly who is here standing in front me. He's holding a drink carrier with two large paper coffee cups, but I have no idea what expression might be on his face because of his disguised features. I look over his shoulder, expecting to find what, I'm not sure.

"Good morning Kathryn, may I come in?" His voice sounds a bit strangled, as if he's nervous, so I nod and open the door wide. He steps through immediately and heads straight for the table by the window, setting the coffee down.

"Harry?" I repeat, apparently having no other vocabulary and hoping that he will understand that to mean, "what are you doing here?" I stay near the door after I've closed it and watch as he pushes his hood down and removes his mask and sunglasses. Standing by the window, the sunlight bathing him in a warm glow, nearly takes my breath away. The dream... "What are you doing here?" I finally manage to stammer out.

"I brought you coffee and I'm taking you to the 9/11 Memorial", he states pointedly, removing one of the cups and holding it out to me.

"Excuse me?" I ask, thoroughly confused and still a bit frazzled from that dream.

"Which part didn't you understand?" He asks with a sly grin. His pink lips turned up into a smile in my direction calms my nerves a bit, so I finally move away from the door to stand near him and accept the coffee he's still holding out. I sip at the warm liquid and watch him as he watches me. Feeling a little more relaxed as the sweetened caffeine coats my throat, I take a seat on the edge of the bed.

"Umm, all of it? Why are you bringing me coffee and why would we go to the memorial together? I told you I wasn't sure I wanted to go... What even time is it?"

"It's a little after 10 am. You said you didn't want to go alone, and that's why I'm here", he says, taking a seat at the table and sipping at his own coffee.

"Oh, that's not exactly what I meant but I appreciate the gesture. I don't know Harry, I'm really not feeling up to it. I had a rough day yesterday..." I trail off, looking out the window. I turn my head back to him to see that his eyebrows have creased together has he studies me. He sets his coffee down and leans forward, elbows on his kneed, hands clasped under his chin.

"What do you mean by rough? You didn't rest?" His eyes search mine and I feel self conscious under his scrutiny, especially in my bed-shaped state. His eyes then drop to my rumpled clothing. "Did you sleep in your clothes?" He asks, echoing my earlier question to myself.

"Umm, I think so."

"You think so? What did you do yesterday?" I feel like I should find his questions invasive, but all I'm getting is a protective vibe and I don't hate it.

"Not much, I did rest, a lot...but then I went to the park and...it didn't end well." His eyes take on a different look, one I've yet to see, and I wonder just how many looks this man has.

"What do you mean Kate? What happened?" He asks through slightly gritted teeth. The second time he's called me Kate.

"No no, nothing bad. Just a lot of memories. Memories I wasn't expecting to hit me so hard."

"Oh", he says sitting back a bit and looking more calm, although still concerned. "Memories of your mum?" I simply nod my head at him. "Why didn't you call me?" Call...him?

"I...didn't know that was an option?" I say blankly. He looks at me again as if I've got three heads.

"Kathryn", he says, taking my free hand in his ringed one, "whilst we're on tour together, we're a team, a family, all of us. If you're struggling for any reason you need to know you can reach out for help. Like you helped me...", he adds and my heart splits.