Treasure [h.s]

| 30 - Walking Secret |

The whirring of an all-too-expensive coffee machine rings in my ears, pulling me from the unconscious state of my dream to the reality of my new life. It's a good thing too, because it was starting to sound like an alarm clock that you can't figure out how to shut off when you don't know if you're awake or still sleeping.

My eyes flutter open to the balcony window, early morning light seeping in rays of orange from the sunrise. I look around, the coffee table has been picked up and blankets are draped over Grace and me. More clatter and quiet profanity catches my attention behind me, my body slowly rising to see what the fuss is about.

Harry is rushing around the kitchen in a suit, making coffee and trying to gather... something? He jumps around from cabinet to cabinet, searching every inch with no luck.

"Fuck!" he whisper-shouts as he lifts the fresh cup of coffee too quickly, a hot brown mark trickling down the front of his white button-up.

I stand fully from the couch, quietly padding over to the flustered Harry. "Hey..." I hush, grabbing a nearby cloth to wipe up the spilled coffee on the counter. He's got a briefcase next to a travel mug, and it looks like what he was searching for was the lid.

"Hi, sweetheart. I'm sorry for waking you," he stresses, trying to rub out the stains. I steady his hands and look over his face. I've seen him nervous plenty of times, but only over me. This must be bad for him to be in such a rush.

"Go change." I nod to the stairs. "I've got this."

I'm assuming this is just coffee, but he looks like he's about to break down, so I throw a few pieces of bread into the toaster after he bounces up the stairs. He rushes into the bedroom, his shirt being unbuttoned and half off by the time he's at the top of the stairs. His muscles are perfectly spotlighted by the sun seeping in and if I don't focus, I won't be of much help to him.

I shake my head and rub away the sleepiness, looking around before picking the cabinet that would make the most sense for something like a travel mug to be in.

And what do you know? The lid is prominently displayed with a few more of its kind.

Man vision, right?

The toast pops as I screw on the top, closing the drinking tab so the coffee stays nice and hot for him. I butter the two pieces and wrap them in a napkin, placing both food items next to his case.

A brown leather briefcase that's locked with a numeric code.

Odd, but also six a.m. and no brain power to fully investigate.

He rushes back down the stairs, buttoning his blazer as he makes a beeline for me. "I'm so sorry." He kisses me with my cheeks cupped in his hands. "I have a meeting with my lawyer, I-I'm already late." He kisses me again, shorter, and grabs up his belongings. "Thank you, Brinna. I love you. Go get breakfast with Grace, sweetheart!"