In Another Life

FROM: Har <3
>>> Hey, Kate asked for your number, so expect a call from her today. She said something about possibly grabbing lunch.
>>> With you, not me. I felt I should clarify. Kate wants to have lunch with you.
>>> Although I also feel the need to clarify that I, too, am an excellent dining companion, and I think you need to be reminded of this fact. So dinner tonight?

I don’t make any attempt to hide the smile that lights up my face as I swipe through my recently received text messages. Harry had an early meeting today, and I’m quite confidant that his barrage of text messages this morning are a result of him wanting to wake me up because the two of us stayed up until one AM talking on the phone. I can see him being adorably grumpy towards everyone, and then wanting to get back at me for keeping him up late by waking me up.

The joke’s on him, though. I can sleep through pretty much anything. I’d drive Jeanette up a wall when I’d have to get up early in the morning, as I would have to set multiple alarms in order to rouse myself out of a deep sleep. At one point, when I was a teenager, I’d have to have an alarm clear across the room so that I would get up and out of bed, otherwise I ran the risk of rolling over and falling back asleep. I’d like to think that I’ve gotten better at early rising as I’ve aged, but I know that it’s not the truth. There will always be a part of me that relishes in staying up until nearly dawn, and then having a lazy lie in the next morning.

As I swipe to the left and type out an affirmative response to Harry’s dinner invitation, I can’t stop the little thrill of excitement that races down my spine. My mobile goes down on the bed next to me, and I inhale deeply before I hold my breath and stretch my arms up towards the headboard. My back pops deliciously, and then I exhale before going completely limp on the mattress.

It’s been an amazing couple of days. It’s like I can’t get enough of him, and all I want to do is spend every waking moment with him. This prince has completely taken up occupancy in my head, and I honestly don’t mind at all.

But still, there are things to be done and flats to be cleaned, so I convince myself to get out of bed and get ready for the day. I take a long, hot shower and then blow-dry my hair before I straighten it solely because I have the time and nothing else to do. I even take the time to sit down at my makeup table and actually do my makeup. Normally I hurry through this routine, and I slather on product while hovering over my bathroom sink. Instead I go for a complete face, complete with false eyelashes. In my defense, I’d found them in the back of my wardrobe, and I’ve been dying for a chance to wear them. There’s no sense in wasting a perfectly good set of falsies, in my honest opinion.

I’m quite thankful for Harry’s warning when, just as I put the finishing touches on my eye’s water line, my mobile starts to vibrate with an incoming call.

+020 7946 0470

I don’t recognize the number, but I’m sure that it’s Kate ringing me. Because, I mean, who else would be calling me—especially someone who’s number that I don’t have? And so I take a deep breath (okay, two. I took two deep breaths, because I’m nervous.) before I go ahead and swipe on the green circular accept button. I wait a brief second before I bring the phone up to my ear.

“Hello?”

“Bryn, it’s Kate. I hope I’m not interrupting,” The voice that comes down the line is familiar to me, and I have flashbacks of a cozy evening with wine and Italian food with Harry and his siblings.

“Hi Kate,” I sit back down on my sofa and then start to fidget anxiously with the ends of my hair. “You’re no bother; Harry told me you might be calling. How are you?”

“I’m fantastic, thanks. How’re you? Are you free for lunch today, by chance?” Kate, as always, is chatty and breezy, and in the background on her end, I can hear people talking.

I can only imagine what sort of Royal Duties she’s up to today, and it brings a smile to my face to realize that she’s specifically making time to see me.

“I am absolutely free for lunch today,” I answer, curling a strand of hair around my index finger lazily. “What sounds good to you?”



It’s a cold, drizzly rain that has settled down upon London I notice as I surface up from the tube. The sky has been overcast and gloomy all morning, but it looks as though the rain has held off for long enough.

The walkways are clear of people, as the drizzle has driven most off of the streets. I pull my jacket closer to my body at the throat as I continue walking down the pathway, mindful of the water that has already started to puddle up. And so, with my other hand shoved deep in my pocket to ward off the chill, I start off in the direction of the restaurant that Kate has picked out.

It’s not a far walk from the South Kensington tube station. In fact, it’s only ten minutes, and I’ve walked much further before, so I’d opted out of using a cab. Not to mention that I also spent the last bit of my paycheck on the coolest pair of trousers that make my bum look at least three sizes smaller, but that’s neither here nor there. I am more than capable of walking a few blocks to a restaurant, where I’m sure I’ll eat back whatever calories I’ve managed to burn off so far today.

There’s a tiny part of me that wonders if I’d asked, would Kate have picked me up from my flat, or maybe Harry would lend me his car? As soon as that thought enters my mind, I push it aside resolutely. I’m not so sure I’m ready for Kate to see my tiny, cramped flat, and it’s preposterous for me to ask Harry for his car when I’m more than capable of walking. I’ve been spoiled the last couple of weeks with Harry picking me up in his car, or by him sending a car ‘round mine.

Tom’s Kitchen is a small, rather discrete café that’s on the bottom of a four-story building. The outside is done up in black, which stands out strikingly from the red-orange brickwork of the upper floors. The name of the restaurant is spelled out in white needle-thin type across the front door. The light that spills out of the big front windows is warm, and yellow, and inviting, and so I hurry across the street, nipping between a stopped car that’s letting out passengers and the cars that’re being held up behind it.

The inside of the restaurant is made of white brick and chunky tables and chairs. Oversized black booths line the walls, while the front counter is highlighted by hanging steel lights and an impressive array of coffee machines that let off the comforting aroma of freshly ground beans.

God, it almost makes me wish that I liked coffee a little bit more so I could justify starting to hang out in coffee houses. I could get used to this smell.

Kate is tucked away in a back corner, her head bowed as she studies her mobile. She’s hidden by a half-wall, and an enormous potted plant with heavy, drooping leaves. There is a single lady seated next to her, who fixes her gaze upon me before I realize that I’m staring rather pointedly.

Kate looks up as the woman next to hear leans in, and she turns in my direction before a brilliant sunny smile lights up her face. She raises a hand in greeting, and I take that as an invitation to close the gap between us.

“Bryn, you’re here,” She says rather unnecessarily as I drop into the chair opposite her. “Did you find the place okay?”

I nod, taking a moment to deposit my bag on the back of my chair. “I did, yes, thank you. It’s not a far walk from the South Kensington station.”

“You walked?” Kate seems surprised. “You should have told me, and we’d have picked you up. I didn’t mean for you to walk all the way here.”

I wave away her words easily. “I didn’t mind; it was only about ten minutes from here. Don’t worry about it.” I smile to reassure her that I’m quite alright with having had to walk.

She doesn’t seem too convinced, however, despite my words. “Well next time, I’ll just meet you over in—where did you say you lived again, Camden?” When I nod, she continues speaking. “I’ll meet you in Camden, and you can show me around there.”

“It’s a deal,” I laugh as a waiter materializes at my elbow.

“Hello, my name is Martin, and I’ll be taking care of you this afternoon.” A small black leather bound book is offered up to Kate first, which she takes and runs her gaze down the list quickly.

She makes a face before she looks back at me. “Is it really dreadful of me to want wine at this hour?” When I shake my head, she grins. “Perfect! Are you joining me?” She waves the drink menu teasingly.

“Sure,” I laugh as I reach for the water glass that Martin has graciously filled up for me. “What’s that saying? It’s five o’clock somewhere?”

“Something like that,” Kate murmurs, glancing back down at the menu. She rattles off something in flawless French to Martin, who nods and then takes the menu from her and disappears. “I ordered us a red wine, I hope that’s okay. Also I was starving, so I ordered a starter and I hope you don’t mind hummus.” She pauses, and then pulls a slight frown. “Apparently every time we dine together, I’m going to rush ahead and order food without asking. That’s really quite rude of me.”

“No,” I rush to assure her. “No, you’re absolutely fine. I will eat pretty much anything that’s put in front of me.”

Except mushrooms, and sometimes olives depending on if they’re mushy or not, and that creepy squid thing that Harry got me to try once when we were out with his mates. I actually sound quite picky now that I think about it.

There’s a bit of a silence between us, and I start to fidget awkwardly. I know that I’m blowing things up in my mind, that I’m completely overreacting but I can’t stop myself from thinking that Kate thinks I’m a complete arse who can’t hold a proper conversation. If I’m being quite honest with myself, talking to her was a lot easier when I had Harry to give me courage—even if he was only sitting next to me.

Kate folds up her menu, and then glances idly to her left before she gives a little start. “Oh god, you’re going to think I’m quite rude. Emma, this is Bryn Matthews, Harry’s girlfriend. And Bryn, this is Emma Probert. Emma is my—well, my security detail.”

“Oh, like Fried,” I smile at Emma, who barely cracks the briefest of grins before she resumes her stoic face. “Hello, it’s lovely to meet you.”

“The pleasure is all mine,” Emma nods before she begins to scan the room again. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

I turn to Kate, who is blushing the most delightful shade of red, before I start to laugh. “Oh? This sounds like a great conversation.”

Kate waves away my words easily. “It’s nothing like that, I promise. It-it’s just been a really long time since I’ve hung out with someone for my own pleasure, and not for work. And usually it’s a member of the-the family,” She stumbles a bit over her last words.

Clearly she’s being mindful of the fact that while we are tucked into a corner of the restaurant and mostly shielded from the rest of the diners in here, we are not in a private room. And voices carry, whether one means for them or not. It’s a trait that I’ve noticed that Harry has, as well. There’s no telling who might be nipping across the room and happen to hear a snatch of conversation that they’re not meant to hear. Harry’s told me enough about the media for me to not be aware of the fact that any little tidbit of royal gossip is tabloid fodder. And that’s something that I’d like to avoid for as long as possible, if I can.

Just as I open my mouth to speak, Martin appears again at the table with another waiter in tow. Martin has a basket of bread that he sets between us before he turns to the gentleman behind him and takes the bottle of wine out of his grasp.

He dutifully fills up both Kate’s glass and mine before he offers some to Emma, who shakes her head, before he corks the bottle and then sets it in the ice chest that has somehow appeared beside our table.

“And are you ladies ready to order?” He crosses his arms behind his back and again, turns to Kate first.

She glances over at me, and when I nod, she turns back to Martin. “Yes, we are, actually. I’d like the grilled chicken caesar salad, please. Could I get that without the anchovies, please?”

Martin nods, and murmurs a soft ‘Your Royal Highness’, before he turns to me. “And for you, Miss?”

“I will have,” I scan the menu again hurriedly. I really should have firmly sorted this out before I said yes to Kate. “The avocado eggs Florentine, please.” I’m not completely sure what eggs Florentine mean, but I like eggs and I think I like avocados, so it can’t be too different, right? I mean, I like guacamole, so it’s practically the same thing.

I’d actually been drooling over the burger that they have here that I’d seen another patron eating as I’d been walking in. It had looked delicious and amazing, but seeing as Kate was going with a dainty salad, I didn’t think it’d be quite so appropriate for me to be face deep in a burger.

Emma completes her order and Martin bows himself away from the table before he returns briefly with the hummus that Kate has ordered. It’s a cute white bowl with high sides and it’s served with three great big slices of bread that’s been toasted.

“So,” Kate begins purposefully once Martin has recused himself again. “You’re quiet today, Bryn. Anything on your mind?” She wiggles her eyebrows at me briefly as she helps herself to a piece of toast and cuts it neatly in two.

As she starts to spread the hummus across her bread, she eyes me pointedly, to which I shrug my shoulders and then start to fidget with my water glass in an attempt to have something to do with my hands.

“No,” I avoid her eyes as I take a healthy drink of water. “There’s nothing on my mind.”

Except Harry, and the fact that I am madly and utterly in love with him. I am completely besotted with this man, and he has no clue and I have no idea how to tell him, or even if I should tell him.

What if I tell him, and it’s a complete mess? He’ll twist his lips in that way that he has, and he’ll sit me down and in soothing tones explain to me that he’s just been having fun with me for the last couple of months, that I’m no one special in the grand scheme of things, and how could I let things get so serious?

Kate laughs and shakes her head. “You are a terrible liar, Bryn.” She takes a bite of her toast.

“I am not!” I insist, though I do have to laugh, as well. I don’t sound nearly as convincing as I’d wanted to, and we both know it. “I just…” I trail off, and then busy myself with cutting my slice of toasted bread into more manageable bites. “You know, things.” My eyes flick up towards her, and I’m a bit surprised to see her studying me closely.

She sets her hummus down on her plate and wipes her hands thoroughly on the cloth napkin. “Does this have anything to do with my brother-in-law?” When my eyes snap up to meet hers, she nods to herself. “Ah, and what has he done this time?”

Alarmed, I almost interrupt her in my haste to defend Harry. “He hasn’t done anything! Honest,” I add, seeing the doubt creep onto her face. “This one is all me.” And then realizing just how bad I’d made myself sound, I rush to assure her once again. “That sounded quite bad, actually. It’s something that I-I’ve realized on my own, about… about us.” I mean, of course, me and Harry.

I realize that I’m being quite cryptic here, and that I’m not doing anything to reassure Kate that I haven’t got Harry’s best intentions at heart. I do, of course I do. But, while Kate is a lovely person and I like her, she is practically a stranger and I’m not entirely comfortable trotting out all of my feelings and emotions to be put on display.

I’d much prefer to bury them deep inside, and then save myself from any potential embarrassment. Or maybe wait to discuss them with Jeanette or Amanda or someone.

Just as I realize that the silence stretching out between us is getting a touch uncomfortable, a tiny voice in the back of my head pipes up and reminds me that Kate has surely been in my position at one point in her life. I mean, she went through exactly the same thing that I’m going through not too long ago. She went from being a no one to being a duchess, and the future queen of this country. If there is anyone in the world who I should be talking to, it should be Kate.

With my mind made up, I bring my head up and meet her gaze head on. “I, uh… I—”

“Oh my god,” Kate is quiet, though her eyes are sparkling wildly. “Does Harry know?”

I blink owlishly at her. “Pardon?”

She’s practically bouncing in her seat as she leans in closer to me. “Does Harry know that you—how you’re feeling?” When I shake my head, she sits back in her seat and grins broadly at me from across the table. “Oh Bryn, you’re probably completely overanalyzing everything in your head and driving yourself mad. You don’t need to worry about anything. I’ve seen the way that Harry looks at you, and I’ve heard the way he speaks about you—believe me,” She laughs here. “Will and I have both heard our fair share of you from Harry. You shouldn’t worry, trust me.”

I reach out and pick up my wine glass, and I realize that my hands are trembling. I clench my free hand in an attempt to still myself. “It’s not that I’m concerned about whether or not he-he feels the same way,” Here I pause and then take a small sip of wine. “Well, I mean, I am, but I’m pretty sure that he feels the same way. It’s the…” I trail off and then look at Kate beseechingly from beneath my eyelashes. I can feel my cheeks burning in mortification, and I can’t quite believe that I am having this conversation in the middle of a crowded restaurant with Kate.

“It’s what it does to your relationship,” Kate supplies helpfully. She does me the smallest of favors and averts her gaze from my misty eyes and blushing checks. “I understand.”

“You do?” I can feel hope pool warm and reassuring in my belly.

She nods and hesitates the briefest of seconds before she continues speaking. “I was in love with Will long before we began dating. And I know that that sounds crazy,” She has a soft smile on her face and a faraway look in her eyes as she slowly strings her words together. “It was a different kind of love—we started off as friends, and everyone said that we should try dating, but we were both leery of ruining what we had. Sometimes in order to be the happiest, you have to take the biggest risks and so we did.” As she speaks, she’s crumbling the crust of her toast on to her plate, though I’m not quite sure that she realizes that she’s doing it.

“I fell hard and I fell fast. I knew what I was feeling for Will would make whatever feelings of friendship that I’d had for him prior to our dating seem unfulfilling and, well, dreary in comparison. He isn’t the best when it comes to feelings, and the idea of being abandoned had him frightened and so he left me,” She nods her head and then looks back at me. “It was the hardest thing that I’ve had to do in my life, but I let him walk away, because he needed to sort through his own feelings before we could discuss the future.” The chuckle that she offers me is dry and humorless, and I feel awful for having her relive this particular memory.

“But he came back, and we talked, and we decided that our relationship was one worth pursuing. I was not prepared,” She looks at me seriously. “Dating someone seriously is hard enough on its own. Dating someone in this family is nearly impossible because of what it means. I’m not trying to scare you away, but I want you to be aware of what will happen.”

When I nod, she takes this as encouragement to continue on. “The media is very aggressive. They will all come at once and it will feel like they’re pulling you in a thousand different directions. They’ll dig up the one time in nursery when you pushed someone over, and then you’re a bully, or they’ll uncover the one less than flattering outfit that you wore in uni, and then you’ll be labeled as a slut if it’s anything less than modest. They’ll take two phrases out of context and they’ll twist your words, so don’t ever believe anything that they say. And you will have so many people come out of the woodwork—a friend that you had back in school, or a neighbor from ages ago, or the postman who delivered a parcel to you once. You just—you really find out who your friends are, and who you can trust.”

“It sounds awful,” I murmur, my anxiety already about to bubble over. All I want to do is go home and cry.

There’s a light touch on my hand and I look up to see Kate reaching across the table. “It’s worth it. I would go through a thousand different unflattering outfits, or have someone from my past come out and give an exclusive that’s not true. You surround yourself with your family and those close friends who you trust, and nothing else matters. If Harry is what makes you happy, don’t let the negatives outweigh the positives. Above all else, it’s what you and Harry want, and if what you two want is the same thing, then no one should stand in your way.”

Martin materializes at my elbow and in his grasp is a tray that’s holding our food. I pull way from Kate’s grasp, my eyes smarting painfully, and allow him to set down our lunch plates. There are a few moments of him asking if everything looks okay and him refilling water glasses before he leaves us once again.

I take this time to covertly wipe away the tears that have gathered in the corners of my eyes. God, when did I get so sodding emotional? I’m normally able to hold myself together much more easily than it has been lately. I busy myself with picking up my fork and knife and cutting into my eggs.

As I watch the bright yellow yolk burst out and over on to my plate, Kate clears her throat from across the table. I look up at her pleadingly, as if she’d be able to tell that all I want is a brief reprieve from this conversation. I want to go home and have a long soak in my bath and lick my wounds in private, so to speak.

“I’m afraid that I’ve frightened you,” Kate speaks up, her head bowed as she stabs at her lettuce. “And that truly wasn’t my intention, I hope you know.”

“I know,” I answer, blinking harshly as the yolk begins to blur again. Christ, at this rate, my makeup is going to be running down my face.

Kate is quiet as she crunches thoughtfully on her food. She swallows, and then sighs a bit, so softly that I nearly missed it. “Harry is like a brother to me, and obviously I don’t want him to get hurt. I-I know that we don’t know each other very well, but I’d like to change that and I do hope that you think of me as a friend—maybe not today, especially after today, actually—but I want you to be prepared for what getting into a relationship with a prince is like. It’s not all glamor and parties—not that I think that that’s what you’re after. But I just—”

“It’s okay, Kate.” I interrupt her gently, and then offer a feeble smile from over top my wine glass. “I understand what you’re doing, and I appreciate it. I’m glad that Harry has someone looking out for him, and I’m really grateful to you for talking with me about this. I’m afraid that I’ve ruined our lunch with all of my talk of the future and relationships.”

“Nonsense,” Kate’s nose wrinkles as she pulls a face at me. “We won’t have any more talk of boys going forward. In fact, if you’re still free after lunch, I have a bit of shopping to do in Chelsea, if you’d like to join me?”

I have to resist the urge to squeal childishly at her invitation. I have been dying for ages to hit some of the shops in Chelsea, but none of my friends really have the budget to afford Chelsea and Kensington shops. Mind you, not that I did, either, but that’s not important right now.

“The only plans I have today is to meet Harry tonight for dinner, so I am absolutely free.” I’m suddenly ravenous and I have to resist the urge to shovel the rest of my food into my mouth so that we can get to the shopping part faster.

“Ooh,” Kate’s eyes are dancing again. “We should make a day of it, and all have dinner together again. It was so much fun last time.” Once she sees me nodding, she pulls her mobile towards her and begins to text. “I’m so excited now. It’s been so long since I’ve had a proper girls’ day out!”

My own phone buzzes and I dig it out of my bag before I look at the lit up screen. Kate has started a group message, and I swipe to the left to read what she’s sent. A teeny, tiny part of me starts to internally freak out at the fourth number that’s listed, because, by process of elimination, it has to be Will’s mobile number.

My attention, however, is distracted by another unread text that’s waiting in my inbox. I hit the back button on my phone, and then click into the text message from Harry that he must have sent since I walked into the restaurant.

He’s even sent a heart emoji, despite his protests that he can’t stand the characters. I’d secretly downloaded the keyboard onto his phone, and occasionally I like to send him cryptic texts written solely in emojis just to see how adorably worked up he gets trying to cypher it all out.

>>> I can’t wait to see you tonight.

I smile softly, though I do my best to hide it from Kate, who is turned and talking with Emma about arranging our day out in London. I don’t hesitate as I tap into the text box and type back out my reply.

>>> Can’t wait to see you either. Stay at mine tonight?

His reply is nearly instant back on my screen.

>>> Absolutely.