Winter Air [H.S.]

Twenty-Three

After she left, the apartment quickly fell silent. Harry couldn't help the lingering grin that was plastered on his face. This is what she did, what he had become: a giggling teenage school gir. He was absolutely, completely, infatuated with Ava Hastings. It was the little things that she would do, her playful demeanor, her kissable lips and tempting figure.

She had bewitched him. 

Ever since Delaine died, Harry has been very vocal about his thoughts on love. It caused vulnerability and the potential for heart break. And usually, it was very on point with the heart break. He promised himself that he would never get to that point again. To the point where he would lose himself in another person. Where all of his thoughts, hopes, desires, and most importantly his heart, was focused on soley one other human being. It came to the point that he didn't even understand why someone would want to willingly put themselves through that. That they would want to live the rest of their lives with another partner. When she died, he lost that desire and never, ever, wanted to fall in love again. 

For years he had been so successful. He wouldn't say that he used women. He wasn't that kind of man. He had class and respect. But, he would never turn down a beautiful woman for a night of passion here and there. Love was for cowards. He didn't want to be a coward, and he was successful in living his life that way. However, now... all of that was gone. Because he knew for a fact (and from previous experiences) that he was falling in love. 

This love was different though. Both parties were broken- not just one. It was an equal playing field. Both Harry and Ava were guarded and were both letting breaking it down. They both were letting each other in and not looking back. 

It must have been a good fifteen minutes of Harry sitting on his couch smiling to himself. It wasn't until a loud knock at the door that he was shaken from his thoughts. 

"What the hell..." Harry rolled off his couch and made his way to the front door, unsure of who it could be. Without giving it a second thought, he opened his door and was met with the last person he expected to see on a Saturday morning. 

"Stanley? What are you doing here." 

"I was reading through your manuscript. Can I come in?"

"It's Saturday morning. You couldn't wait till Monday?" Harry was unimpressed. It was the weekend from crying out loud. 

"Just let me in and I'll explain." 

Harry moved out of the entryway. Stanley walked past and made his way over to the small square table underneath the bay window. 

"Do you want a coffee or something?" 

"No, I'm fine. Harry, take a seat." 

Harry suddenly felt uneasy. Questions began to swarm within his mind: Was the story terrible? Was it so bad that he was going to get fired? And, why the hell is so important that he need to come on a damn saturday morning?

"You have a nice place here. Good view." 

"Can you just spit it out? You're freaking me out, mate." Harry ran his hands through his hair, tugging at the ends to release the built up tension. 

Stanley took a deep breath and let out a long sigh. His somber expression quickly changed as a grin began to take over his features. "Harry, your story was beyond our expectations. We were pleasantly surprised with the outcome. We sent a copy to a major book publisher in New York, and they want to take you on. They think that you have an amazing talent, and that Haunted will take Romance Fiction by storm. Women will eat it up!" 

Harry was stunned. He never thought that his story would receive such high praise. 

"What does this mean then?"