In Another Life

“So this is the infamous Gilbert’s?” Harry asks as we step across the threshold. “Where I’m going to have the best meal in all of London?”

I pause and then look around the pub as if I’m seeing it for the first time. It’s small and cramped with mismatched chairs and tables, many of which sport numerous unidentifiable stains. The place reeks of smoke and stale beer. And I already know the awful state of the toilets.

Honestly the place isn’t all that bad. The jukebox in the corner is always playing rubbish songs, but the food really is just about the best in London—that I’ve had anyway. And plus, it’s cheap, which is a huge plus for poor uni students.

“I know it looks like you might contract some sort of deadly disease,” I begin slowly, refusing to meet his eye. Perhaps it hadn’t been a wise idea to bring him here? “But it really isn’t that bad. The food is delicious, and Tasha is-is—”

“I was totally joking,” Harry laughs, the corners of his eyes crinkling up. “I trust you, and I’m excited to try these chips that you’ve been raving about for the last six months. Plus,” Here he nudges me lightly with his elbow. “I’m going to meet all of your mates for the first time. And here I thought you were embarrassed of me!”

“Not embarrassed,” I smile and start to lead him towards our regular booth. “I just… I didn’t think that Gilbert’s is quite your thing. And my friends are… interesting and overwhelming. Please don’t take anything they say seriously.” I add on as Tasha approaches the table.

She’s eyeing Harry through suspicious eyes, and I don’t blame her. Our group has been turning up here for the past three years, and we’ve never brought an outsider here (with the odd exception of Liv, who Tasha apparently cannot take seriously). And then I show up after quite a long absence and what’s more, I’ve brought a man with me.

I offer her the widest smile that I can muster and gesture her forwards. “Hello Tasha, how are you?”

She shifts from one foot to the other. “Doing okay, love. The usual?”

“Please,” I turn to Harry. “Tasha, this is my boyfriend, Harry. Harry, this is Tasha, the best waitress in all of England. Behave.”

Harry inhales dramatically. “Why Bryn, you wound me with your accusations. I wouldn’t dream of toying with this beautiful creature before me.”

Tasha shoots him a rather unimpressed look, but Harry looks completely nonplussed at her lack of a reaction. And I know that that just means that he’ll double the charm the next time she comes back to our table.

“And what’ll you have?” She purses her lips, and waits for Harry’s response.

“I’ll have a single malt Scotch, please. Neat,” He folds his hands on the table. “With a glass of water on the side, please.”

“I’ll bring it right out,” Tasha replies and eyes Harry once again before she stalks back to the kitchens.

Harry waits until she’s out of earshot before he finally looks at me. “She’s darling.”

I flick the tips of his fingers. “She’s just gruff, is all. Give her a bit to warm up to you. Raina hated coming here for the first six months, because she was convinced that Tasha loathed her.”

“Really? That makes me feel better,” Harry shifts in his seat before he reaches for the menu. “Do you have any recommendations?”

“Well we always start off with the chips platter,” I answer just as the door to the pub opens and then I hear Jeanette’s telltale laughter. “But I nearly always get a burger when we’re here.”

“Unadventurous,” Harry glances up at me just as my friends materialize at the table.

Amanda, who has never directly met Harry, has clearly gone the extra mile in an effort to impress him. Her hair is straightened and then swept off to the side and pinned back with a glittery clip that shimmers under the lights. She’s dressed smartly in trousers and a silken wrap top that clings to her curves lightly beneath her woolen coat.

Raina, the token ‘shy one’ of the group, has made an effort in her own way, though it is not nearly as noticeable as Amanda’s outfit. Her hair is neatly combed and she’s even adorned her dreads with a few beads. She’s also remembered to scrub off the ink and paint from her hands, which is an amazing feat in and of itself.

But Jeanette, who has met Harry numerous times at my flat, clearly is feeling comfortable with Harry. Because she flashes him a cheerful smile and then manages to wedge herself on the opposite bench before she sighs heavily and rolls her eyes.

Raina quickly scurries to sit next to Jeanette (to avoid sitting next to Harry, I’d wager £5 on it), which leaves Amanda to sit on the end of the table in the hardback chair. Which, to her credit, she accepts without any signs of intimidation or nerves.

“Hello,” I break the silence first. “Everyone, this is Harry. Harry, this is Jeanette, of course, Raina, and Amanda.” I make the proper gestures and Harry politely shakes everyone’s hands before Tasha arrives with drinks.

It takes a moment or two for everyone to settle in and place orders, but eventually Tasha leaves us be, and the silences settles back down on our table. Clearly Raina and Amanda are bundles of nerves, and Jeanette is much too busy texting on her mobile to pay much attention to us at the moment.

Harry, bless him, picks up on the tension and quickly sets about putting everyone at ease. “So Jeanette,” He begins, coaxing her back into the conversation. “Bryn’s told me it’s a boy?” He motions at her stomach.

Originally I had kept Jeanette’s secret from Harry. Not because I was afraid that he would judge her, or inadvertently judge me based on my friends, and their morals or whatever, but because it truly wasn’t my place to tell him. He’d come over about three months ago and sat on the sofa with Jeanette while I finished getting ready. She’d been eating pickles and hot sauce with a chocolate bar. Harry had barely made it to the car before he burst out laughing and asked when she was due.

He didn’t pass judgment on any of that. In fact, the next time he popped around, he brought with him homemade soup (he swore that the soup alone was enough to settle any upset stomach, morning sickness be damned) and a really lovely book on adoption, which Jeanette had recently settled on.

Jeanette beams with pride and nods, touching her belly in a frighteningly matronly manner. “Yes, it’s a boy. I’ve got about eleven weeks to go actually. I’m so ready for it.” She laughs.

Harry smiles. “So have they decided on a name yet?”

“Oh yes,” She pulls a face. “Charles Albert. But I suppose I can’t complain, I can stomach Charlie as a name. Barely,” She adds on before she sips at her soda.

“If I didn’t know any better,” Harry’s eyes are dancing, and I know that whatever is going to come out of his mouth is going to be a joke. “I’d say that you have some sort of prejudice against the name Charles. Not too keen on it, aye?”

“Of course not,” Jeanette splutters. “He’ll sound like an old tosser or something. He’ll be the laughingstock of the schoolyard. I mean, would you let one of your kids walk ‘round with a name like that?”

“Seeing as Charles Albert is my middle name,” He replies easily in a grave tone. “Yes, yes I would actually.”

Jeanette chokes on her drink and her eyes widen once she realizes just what she’s implied. But the small grin on Harry’s face lets everyone else know that he’s only jesting with Jeanette. Raina titters softly, and the tension seems to drain out of Amanda’s shoulders as she realizes that Harry isn’t going to be a stiff, stuck-up prat at all.

It’s only once he reassures my panicked friend that he doesn’t care for the name either that Tasha appears at the table with the chips platter. As everyone pushes their drinks to the side to make room for the food, I nudge Harry lightly with my foot.

When he turns to look at me, I give him an appreciative smile. “Thank you,” I whisper quietly so that the rest of the table won’t hear. When he continues to look confused, I continue. “For putting everyone at ease. It was hard for them to come; they were so worried about making arses of themselves.”

Harry’s confusion melts away into an adorable smile and he waves my words away easily. “I make an arse of myself at least twice on a daily basis. They’ve nothing to worry about, the crown was checked at the door. No worries at all.”

I make no reply. Instead I take his hand up in mine under the table and squeeze gently. He, in turn, begins to stroke the back of my hand with a calloused pad of his thumb.



“So was the night a rousing success? Have I exceeded your expectations and won the approval of your friends and all that?” Harry asks as the door to Gilbert’s closes behind us. “Do they approve of our romance, of my princely lineage and subsequent wooing of you?”

His breath comes out in visible puffs, and for a second, I’m completely mesmerized with the sight of his rosy cheeks and tightly bundled up jacket. I’d never in a million years think I’d ever be in this moment in time.

I catch his arm up in my own and then lean into him after pressing a soft kiss to the warm scratchy material on the arm of his coat. “Yes, you were amazing. I can’t believe you got Raina to sing in the middle of the pub like that. It took her ages to sing in front of any of us!”

“Yes well,” Harry says airily, reaching up and clasping my hand up in his own. “I am amazing, and just because you suck—”

“Hey!” I laugh, smacking his arm and making a weak attempt to pull away. “Take it back!”

But Harry tugs me back into his embrace and hugs me tightly. I revel in the warmth of his touch and lean into him. “Okay, okay. You don’t suck… much.” He mutters under his breath. “It was a joke, darling!”

“I know,” I laugh as we cross the street in the direction of my apartment. “God, I can’t wait for Christmas. It’s my favorite time of the year.”

“Just a few more weeks now,” Harry observes, swinging our hands a bit as we walk. “You’re going home to Essex, aren’t you?”

I nod, and then frown. “Yes, to be there when Mum has the new baby. I’m sorry that I won’t be here to spend it with you,” I whisper the last part, even though it’s the truth. I don’t want him to think I’m some sort of sentimental sap who romanticizes everything. “You know, you can tag along if you’d like.”

“To Colchester?” Harry asks, sounding completely surprised. Obviously the idea had never occurred to him. “I couldn’t possibly. You’ll have the new baby, and I don’t want to intrude.”

“You wouldn’t be,” I insist, knowing that Mum would be thrilled to meet Harry. Not because he is a prince, but because he’s my boyfriend and I rarely bring guys home to meet my family. I never have, actually. Harry would be the first. “But I understand that you want to spend it here with your family. We’ll get together when I come back, and before school starts back up again.”

“Speaking of family, Kate wants to meet you.” Harry says offhandedly.

He continues speaking, but I’ve completely tuned him out. All I can hear is a roar in my ears, and the feeling of my heart leaping up into my throat. I’m conscious of all of the blood draining out of my face, and I suddenly feel a bit sick.

Does he not realize that he’s dropped a complete bombshell on me? I can’t just bloody meet Kate Middleton, the future Queen of England! That’s, like, waltzing into Buckingham Palace and having tea with the queen.

I don’t realize that I’ve stopped walking until Harry grabs my face. The warmth of his touch jolts me back into reality, and I take note of the concern in his eyes and I’m appropriately touched by his worry.

“Bloody hell, Bryn, I didn’t say you had to become her best friend.” Immediately he knows what’s going on in my mind, and he doesn’t even bat an eye at my overly dramatic reaction. “She just wants to meet you, is all. In fact, she’s been dying to meet you for at least two months now.”

“But why?” I manage to stammer attractively.

He shrugs, finally pulling his hands away from my face and sinking them deep in his jacket pockets. “Because you’re special to me. And because you’re the first girl that I’ve kept around for longer than a month, and only Chelsy has been able to manage that.” He’s gone quiet at the end of his sentence, and I have to wonder if even Harry is nervous about all of this, too.

Chelsy Davy is the only girlfriend that has stuck around long enough to become a household name for the British public. She and Harry had a tumultuous relationship, going on and off for years before she ended things once and for all. She claimed that she wanted a career that didn’t involve the Royal Crown. After that, Harry kept to himself and the press outdid themselves attempting to pin woman after woman on his arm. But aside from the occasional photograph or meeting, Harry, for whatever reason, never stayed with them for long.

Until me.

The monstrosity of that implication settles down on my chest and I’m startled by the heaviness of that weight. Of course, Harry told me all about Chelsy, and of the string of girls that came around after the breakup. None of those relationships had ever been serious, or come anywhere close to being so.

Obviously Harry’s told his family about me. Or, at the very least, he’s told Will and Kate about me. I know he’s told his mates of me, and we’ve even had drinks a few times together. Just as my girls know all about Harry. But I’ve never even thought of broaching the topic with my family. I don’t even want to imagine their reactions. Well, to be fair, it’s really only Liv’s reaction that I’m frightened by, but I digress.

Maybe I’d never thought of it because of the sheer enormity of it all. If I introduce him to my family, and I to his, then what we have is really, truly real. And that then introduces the risk of the public and of the media.

Harry’s told me about the press, about how they could be vicious and cruel and how they’d hunt down everything personal in your life and spread it out around the world. He’s told me awful, horrible stories about the things that Kate had to go through once she and Will went public with their relationship. Even her family suffered the repercussions of her romantic life. I shudder to think of how frightening that would be for my own siblings and parents. I don’t want them to be in any sort of danger because of me.

“Look,” Harry’s voice breaks through my train of thought. “If you’re not comfortable meeting with Kate, then you don’t have to do it.” He’s gone all still and he’s hunched forward, as if he’s trying to fold in on himself. “If that’s moving too fast, then I get it. Another time then.”

But then, of course, Kate got through it. And look at how happy she is now. The benefits outweigh the negatives, right? I can get through whatever bullshit the media throws at me if I have Harry at my side. It would all be worth it in the end.

“No,” I interrupt him. He looks startled by my outburst, but he remains quiet. I reach forward and take his bare hands up in my own. “I’ll do it. I can meet Kate, no big deal.”

“No big deal? Bryn, you nearly had an aneurism just now at the thought of meeting her. You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to,” He shakes his head. “I know what taking this step means for you—lack of privacy and everything.” He looks sheepish, and I know in his mind that he’s apologizing for the baggage that he brings to this relationship.

“If I want you to meet mine—family, that is,” I take a deep breath and bring his hands up to my mouth. “Then it’s only fair that I meet your family, too. You’re worth it,” I whisper, kissing his knuckles lightly.

Harry smiles tenderly and reaches out to brush some hair out of my eyes. “So you’ll do it then? You’ll meet Kate and Will?” When I nod slowly, his face lights up in an electric grin that brings out the dimples in his cheeks. “You are brilliant, Bryn. I can’t name any girls who’d be willing to do this for me.”

I smile dreamily up at him. I’m still reeling from the look of complete adoration that’s shining in his eyes. When I nod slowly, still smiling, he pulls me flush against his body.

“Bryn,” He says softly, and I briefly think that my name has never sounded so seductive and alluring in his posh London accent. “I lo—”

But he never finishes his sentence, because I pull his mouth down on my own and I kiss him with every bit of emotion in my body. And he responds just as enthusiastically, and I know that we feel the same way about each other.