Yes, Boss

ninety four.

Harry. 

I stare at the excel document, my focus nowhere to be found today. Turning my pen over and over in my hands, watching the minutes tick past on my watch until Flora comes by. For some frustrating reason Edward seems to be at the forefront. It's been a week since I locked him up. It's nearing Christmas and a worried phone call from my mum last night let the guilt set in. 

I pick up my phone from the cold glass desk, sighing, no communication from Flora. Instead I find the number I'm looking for, pressing dial and standing up to stretch my legs. 

"Boss" He answers on the first ring. 

"Hey, listen, let Eddie go. Take him back to where you left his car and swear him to secrecy, I take it he's pretty broken by now" I say in a hushed tone, although no one can possibly be listening unless Amber has her ear to the door. 

"Pretty damn broken boss" He says. 

"Good" I hang up, breathing a sigh and walking over to the window to look at the hectic shopping street, strings of Christmas lights hanging over the ants below. I decide I can't be bothered to wait anymore as it reaches 5:59. I grab my coat, phones and laptop. Before heading out of the office to see Flora sitting on the other side of Amber's desk as they giggle over something. 

"Jesus thanks for telling me you're here" I say exasperatedly, as she looks over, as does Amber. 

"It's Amber's job to tell you someone's arrived! Not mine" She answers. Easing herself up out of the chair wrapped up in a long coat that definitely wouldn't do up over bump and an over-sized scarf. Her cheeks flushed pink from the foggy air outside. 

"We've already established she's shit at being a PA" I say, rolling my eyes. 

"Flora he is so rude to me sometimes" She whines. 

"Nope, stop your bullshit, Flora we're leaving" I nod towards the exit but she's already giving simpering Amber a hug, who smiles at me smugly. 

"See you tommorow" I say, taking Flora by the hand and pulling her to me like a kid who wants his teddy back. 

"Bye babes" Amber sings back, sitting back down at her chair as we leave the office and enter the car park. 

-

"Which one's do you like?" I ask surveying the baby cribs, walking slalom between the rows, running a hand over the wood of each in the quiet corner of the baby store, taking crib buying ever seriously as if I'm about to buy a new Porsche. Flora nibbles at her lip standing firmly in the section of white cribs, looking between two which seem fairly identical to me but what do I know? 

"This is so hard" She whines, picking up the plastic specification sheet. 

"Birch frame? Pine wood slats? What difference will they make? God Harry what if they won't sleep in them or something and cry every time we put them in there" She fusses. 

"Babe, honestly choose what you like, I don't think they're going to be fussed what the frame is made of" I soothe her, scratching a hand across her bump, resting my head on hers from behind as she stands between two white cribs. 

"Which one do you like?" She asks. 

"That one" I point decisively to the one on our right although I can't tell either way. She sighs. 

"No?" I say, in response to her silence. 

"No, that one" She confirms pointing to the other model. I roll my eyes, why ask for my opinion. 

"Two of those it is then" I kiss the top of her head. Moving away to find a shop assistant, who post purchase informs me that they're self assemble. 

Flora. 

I walk into Harry's spare room, a cup of tea in my hand, I'm not prepared for the mass of white wooden parts that he has strewn around him, all across the cream carpet of the large bedroom, practically empty seeing as all the bedroom furniture has been put into storage to make room for the nursery. 

He sits cross legged with the large black and white instructions unfolded before him nothing having yet been assembled, having changed from his work suit into sweatpants and his beloved rolling stones t shirt, reading glasses on to make out the small print. 

"Jesus christ, need a fucking pHD to put together a damn crib" He mutters to himself, screwdriver held in his mouth as he attempts to slot two pieces together, I can't help but smirk. 

"Did you want some help?" I ask, he turns, and I hand him the cup of tea. He looks up at me mournfully. I ease myself down beside him as my back winces in protest taking the screwdriver from between his lips. 

"Read me the instructions" I command. He scowls at me, taking a sip of his tea and picking up the paper. 

"Slot main frame plank A into plank B" He reads, looking up inquisitively. I look back at him, flummoxed. 

"How do you know which is main frame plank a?" I request. 

"You're asking me?"