Just keep breathing

Chapter 35

When we pull in to Harry's driveway later that afternoon, I am surprised to see a sleek black Porsche parked in front of the house.

"Shit," Harry mumbles as he pulls his Range Rover up behind it and cuts the engine.

"What? Harry? Who's car is that?"

"Jeff's. I'm sorry baby I didn't know he'd be here."

"I can go?" I offer, I have no desire to see Jeff again, and it seems the alone time I had hoped to have with Harry has gone out the window.

"Don't be stupid" He snaps. "It's my house. I want you here. Hopefully, he won't insist on staying long."

Harry opens my door and offers me his hand to help me out of the car, as I place my hand in his I can see that it's shaking. I don't want to deal with this. Jeff is his manager.. and his friend. I don't want to cause a rift between them. But at the same time, I don't want to have to run away anytime he's around either.

"It'll be fine. Trust me." Harry says and bends to give me a swift kiss. He takes my hand and leads me into the house.

"H? That you mate? Sorry to just drop by unannounced, but we need to talk." Jeff calls from somewhere in the house as we enter.

"It's me. And Katie" Harry says pointedly.

"Oh. Ok well, I had wanted to talk to you first, but never mind. As she's already here, we'll just see what she has to say." Jeff replies.

I sneak a glance up at Harry and see a confused expression on his face. He starts to make his way down the long hallway, dragging me behind him by my hand as I reluctantly move forward.

"H. Katie." Jeff nods

Harry directs me to the sofa and perches on the arm next to me, resting his arm around my shoulders.

"What's up?" He asks Jeff.

"This." Jeff throws a newspaper down on the coffee table in front of us and I gasp, jumping up from my seat in horror.

The REAL story behind Harry Styles mystery brunette. Reads the headline. In smaller print beneath I read. Katie Francis. Barmaid or gold digger? Her ex-fiancée tells us all.

There is a large photo of me on the front page. It's old. I was only about nineteen when it was taken, and it's not a flattering shot. I have a large drink in one hand, cigarette in another, I'm clearly a little worse for wear.

"What the... " Harry's voice trails off as he reaches towards the paper. But I bend and grab it before he can and read the rest of the front page.

Michael Price, 34, was engaged to Miss Francis for three years before she suddenly broke off their betrothal and disappeared from his life.

Michael explains "I hadn't seen Kate in years, not since the day I came home and found she'd packed up her things and walked away from me." Overcome with emotion, Mr Price wipes a stray tear from his eye before continuing "until I saw the photos of her in London running into the station with her shoes in her hands that is. I can't say I was surprised. She has always been hard to handle, liked a drink, you know? Needed a bit of looking after a lot of the time, she liked to be supported, wasn't interested in getting a job herself. But she was my girl, I wanted to take care of her, I thought we would be together forever..." continued on page 5.

I hurry to flick the pages of the paper over with my shaking hands to find the rest, but as soon as I do, I wish that I hadn't. What I see there makes me sick to my stomach. There is a photo of Harry and I leaving the club in Japan. Me pulled close into his side as he tries to shield me from the photographers, then a smaller one of me heading into Victoria station the night we went to the theatre.