model call || h.s

102.

Oh you guys - my sweet, amazing, wonderful and patient readers - I'm so sorry it's been so long. Work is kicking my bum and the last two weeks have been chaos, prepping for the holidays and Black Friday...ugh it's a mess and it's exhausting. Everyday I tell myself that when I get home, I'm gonna write, and every night I get home and I'm like....fuuuuck, I can't write. This is by far the shortest chapter EVER but hopefully more will come tomorrow, because I'm finally off! Woohoo! I was going to wait and add to the chapter, but I wanted to give you guys something, even if it's just a measly, four-hundred-seventy word paragraph, basically. Again, I apologize! Please don't hate me for being the worst.

102.

Harry.

"Alright mate..." I say, approaching the kitchen once again.

"Oh, have you come to judge me some more?"

"Shut up." I whack him upside the head. "You're an idiot, y'know, for sleeping with her..." He rolls his eyes and I rub my face. "But...fuck, I guess—do you love her, Grim?"

"I do...I do, I just don't want to ruin her life, or be the reason that she's unhappy."

"Realistically, do you think she'd be happy if her marriage failed?"

"Of course she wouldn't. She loves him, she may...want to shag me, I guess. But like I said...she'd never leave him for me."

"So, what are you gonna do, mate?"

"What can I do?"

"What's that cliche shit that they always say?" I ask him, already knowing the answer. "If you love something..."

"Fuuuuuuuck me." He pulls his face down.

"Sorry, bud."

"God, how'd you get so lucky?"

"Twenty-two...nine years of loving her."

"And her loving you."

"Best nine years of my life...you'll find that, Grim. It might not be with this girl, but you'll find it."

"I might, yeah. Or I might not. I'm almost forty-two, I've put on a few in my gut here...I look nothing like you—I mean, fuck, Harold. You look the same as you did nine years ago. Not a wrinkle, not a grey hair...the only difference is, your muscles are bigger and you have more than four baby abs. You little prick." I chuckle, silently appreciating the fact that, yes, he's not wrong.

"Well, have you seen my wife? I've got to keep her interested."

"You're doing a fine job, kid."

"You'll meet her—the woman you're gonna end up with." I say, "But don't pursue this married one. It's not worth it. You've got your career and you've worked so hard to get where you are. Don't blow it, please."

"You're right, you're right. I'll...I'll figure it out."

"Thank you." The pitter-patter of little three year old feet pulls at my attention and I turn to see Iris just before she launches herself at my legs. I catch her, as I always do, and she's giggling, as she always does. "Hi love-bug..." She wraps her arms around my neck, in response.

"Little monkey-girl!" Nick says, reaching for her. She does like him, more so than a lot of my friends, but right now, she's clearly not feeling very social. She tightens her grip on me. "Oh, Iris, darling! You're breaking my heart!" This still doesn't change her mind, but she smiles.

"Where's mummy?" I ask her?

"Mummy!"

"Nora?" No answer. "Alright, hold on. Let' go find her." I give my friend the be right back look and carry my daughter out of the room, in search of my wife.