Loving Henry

Saturday, 23rd of April

The three weeks after Henry had left were absolute torture.

Henry and I texted every day, used Skype in the evenings before bed and called only when either of us could find the time.

Which wasn’t a lot as Henry was extremely busy with the arrangements for his brother’s wedding, trying to ward off the media, his Air Corps stuff and his other Princely duties.

My father dragged me to two more events where I had to pretend that I loved my father and didn’t mind being a shallow, mindless bint.

The things we do for university funding.

My father made me dance with two new arrogant and conceited bachelors. It made me wish, for the umpteenth time, that I could tell my father that I was already seeing someone, but could you imagine my father’s reaction if I told him that I was dating a Prince of England… He’d only focus on how he could spin the information to better his own life. My father was such a narcissistic, self-absorbed bastard. Although, Henry’s version of my father’s personality description contained more curse words than adjectives.

On Saturday the sixteenth, Henry was promoted to Captain. We wanted to spend the evening celebrating together, talking over Skype, but his friends took him out and by the time they got home, it was already four in the morning and Henry was utterly smashed. We couldn’t talk the next day either since Henry was too hung over to even open his eyes.

A few days later, I woke to knocking at my door and when I opened it, I saw a messenger boy standing there with a bouquet of blue tulips and a card from Henry, saying that he missed me.

I was walking on clouds for two days after that. The suite smelled wonderful with the scent of flowers hanging in the air.

I was leaving for London on the 22nd and was so anxious that I’d already had most of my things packed by the 19th.

I flew business class and other than a bit of turbulence over Algeria, it was an uneventful flight.

Landing at Heathrow the next day was a nightmare. The bloody airport is just so big, there are way too many people trying to go in a million different directions and mow you over at the same time and you have to wait forever for your luggage.

I had arranged for a car service to pick me up, since trying to get a taxi would be about as fruitful as trying to stop the sun from shining.

In the car I phoned Henry to tell him that I had landed safely and we were finally on the same continent again.

He was overjoyed and said that he couldn’t wait to see me, although he was extremely busy since it was only a few days before the wedding and he didn’t know if he’d be able to get away.

I tried not to let the disappointment be heard in my voice, but I think Henry heard it anyway, especially since he knew me so well.

It was weird having to get used to someone who actually knew me that well. The last person had been a friend in high school and we haven’t seen each other in years. When I really thought about it, I realised how utterly alone and lonely I’ve been this whole time. Aside from the obvious, it was no wonder that I’d stuck to Henry like Velcro. He’s the first true friend I’ve had in years.

I wonder if it was the same for Henry. Of course he had many friends, but how many of them truly knew him the way that I did. Sure, they’d known him longer and spent more time with him, but that doesn’t necessarily equate to knowing him better.

In the media you always see these royals living in this grandiose palace and having fancy parties and all the best and most expensive things, but with the all scheming, backstabbing and false smiles, I’d always thought that a palace was only a pretty exterior for a cage.

These people were trapped in this life, kept there because of their duty to the family. To the throne and the people. They couldn’t live their lives the way they wanted to. Instead they were forced to take on unwanted roles and assume false faces, all to protect the family name. To always be perfect. To never show who they really were, in case it wasn’t exactly what the public expected of them.

They were all pretty birds, in a pretty cage, trapped and forced to perform daily for their supper.
It was incredibly sad.

~**~

I arrived at my apartment in Kenton Court in Kensington High Street and the driver helped me get all my things upstairs.

It was good to finally be home. My mother had been British and my father South African and after my mother had died, my father had moved us to South Africa to live their full time. It was a beautiful country and the people there were incredibly friendly, but Britain was where my heart felt at home. At first it was only because of my mother, but now it was because of Henry as well.

I like to think that my mother would have been proud of me for finding someone like Henry (as accidentally as it was) to love. Maybe she had sent him my way. A smile graced my face at the thought. Perhaps his mother had had a hand in it as well. I would mention my suspicions to Henry when I saw him. No doubt it would bring a smile to his face as well, thinking that our mothers had conspired together.

It was only around three in the afternoon, so I set to work with unpacking my things and removing some of the dust from my apartment. I’d have a cleaning lady come in tomorrow, but for now I couldn’t very well die from all the dust in the place just because I was lazy.

After the dust-athon, it was around dinner time, so I ordered Chinese take-out and while waiting for the food to arrive, I took a shower to remove the dust from my body.

I’d just shut the water off when I heard knocking at the door. I threw on my bathrobe and grabbed my wallet and then went to open the door. Imagine my surprise, when instead of some delivery guy with my Chicken Chow Mein standing in the doorway, I saw the man of my dreams accompanied by his two body guards.

My mouth went open, but no sound came out, since I was too shocked.

“Is this going to become a habit? Answering the door in your bathrobe? Because, honestly, I like it, but I don’t really want other people seeing you like this,” my Prince Charming said with a cocky smile on his face.

When I finally got my voice to work, it was a cross between a squeal and a shout of Henry’s name and then I was launching myself into his arms and kissing every inch of his face that I could reach.

He laughed and took my head in his hands to hold it still and give me a sweet kiss on the mouth. I completely melted in his arms after that. Damn the man for knowing my weakness and using it against me.

“Are you going to invite me in?” he asked, “or would you like to keep standing here all night.”

We were standing in the doorway, hugging, or really; he was holding me and I was clutching onto him for everything I was worth. I finally had him back with me and I was afraid that if I let him go, he might disappear and never come back. Lord knows, this man was too good to give up.

I finally let him go, gave him a sheepish smile and invited him inside. When the door closed behind him, he pulled me into his arms again, planted his lips on mine and then proceeded to kiss me senseless until we were both panting and I felt his hardness against my hip. It was good to know that I affected him as much as he did me.

He picked me up, carried me to the couch and then settled down on top of me, before going back to kissing me within an inch of my life. I wasn’t one to curse, but fuck the man could kiss.

After what seemed like an eternity later, which was probably only about ten minutes, there was a knock at the door and I, sporting a shagged senseless look, with my swollen lips, tangled hair and what I assumed was one large love bite, grabbed my wallet and went to pay for my dinner.

When I closed the door and turned back to Henry, he was now sitting on the couch and looking extremely smug and uncomfortable at the same time.

He grinned at me and then said, “Well I think the delivery boy has a crush on you now. Looking the way you do, I don’t really blame him; as long as you remember that I don’t like to share.”

I blushed at his words, put the food on the table in front of him and then went into the bedroom to actually put some proper clothes on.

We spent the evening watching the telly and just talking softly about anything and everything.

We revelled in being together again. When I started to fall asleep, Henry picked me up and carried me to my bed. When he was about to leave, I grabbed his shirt and begged him not to leave me.

He sighed and then went to remove his shirt, trousers, shoes and socks, leaving him only in his boxer-briefs, before climbing into bed and gathering me into his chest.

Long after I’d fallen asleep, he kissed me on the forehead and then whispered into my ear three beautiful words before falling asleep himself.

I love you had never sound so sweet.