In Another Life

An almighty crash is what wakes me up the following morning.

It takes me a few seconds to realize exactly what is going on, to be honest. I’d fallen asleep late last night, having spent the time after supper running the girls through the bath and putting them to bed with many reassurances that Mum would be home today. After putting both of the girls to bed, and then putting them back to bed after they’d come downstairs to see what Harry and I were up to, I’d cleaned up the mess we’d left in the living room.

Harry had helped, of course. He shoveled away the snow that had accumulated while we were at hospital, and he’d been such a sport, and picked up the after the dogs for me. And to top it off, he’s quite honestly one of the best dish dryers that I’ve ever had assist me with the dishes.

We’d tumbled into bed at a little after 1:30 in the morning, and I’d been out nearly as soon as my head had hit the pillow. I know that Harry had been going through his phone, looking at emails and responding to a few of them, as I’d fallen asleep watching the way his mobile lit up his face and the cute way he puckered his lips to the side as he concentrated.

But now, now that must have been ages ago. The sun is high in the sky, and the space where Harry had slept next to me is cold, meaning he’d left some time ago. I’m not sure if he woke of his own accord, or if the girls have been a dreadful fright and woken him at first light. Something tells me that it was more the latter.

I reach for my mobile and the screen immediately lights up with a few texts. I use my thumb to scroll down, ignoring the majority of them except for the one from Tad. He says that they expect to be discharged before noon, and then they’ll be home. The clock at the top of my screen lets me know that it’s already nearing twelve.

I crawl out of bed and reach for the sweatpants that I’d left puddled on the floor the night before. Pulling those up and over my hips, I use the hair tie on my wrist to knot my hair up in a messy bun at the top of my head, before I turn off the heater in the corner and leave my bedroom.

On the middle floor, a quick peek into the girls’ bedroom lets me know that they’re both awake. Griffith’s door is closed, so I’m assuming that to mean that he’s still fast asleep, so I leave him be for the time being. I start down the second set of stairs and step over Boo, who is fast asleep on his back on the landing, and seems to be chasing something in his dreams as his legs move and he growls lightly in the back of his throat.

The telly is going in the living room, and Coco is perched on the sofa, her dark eyes watching me as I come down the last few steps. I smile upon seeing her, though my attention is immediately diverted by a loud shriek coming from the kitchen.

I round the corner to see Owi perched up on the counter and Cadi standing on a barstool. Judging by the fact that both of my sisters are still in their pajamas and the telly is currently running cartoons, they’ve evidently decided to have a bit of a lazy morning. They’re both chattering on at the speed of light to Harry, who looks slightly overwhelmed by the both of them teaming up on him.

He relaxes once he catches sight of me in the doorway, and I have to work hard to keep myself from laughing at the way he nearly wilts at the sight of backup. “Look who’s finally rolled her lazy bones out of bed!”

“Bryn!” Owi shouts, bouncing up and down in place and clapping her hands. “You were asleep for ages! We’d thought you died.”

Cadi scoffs, her button nose crinkling adorably. “We did not. She was just tired, Owi, which is why Harry said to let her have a lie in.”

“Did he now?” I ask, rounding the kitchen counter and hugging my boyfriend tightly. “What a gentleman he is,” I tease, standing on my tiptoes to drop a soft kiss on to his scruffy cheek.

The corners of his eyes soften as our eyes lock together, and he squeezes me back. “Yeah, well, you looked pretty tired last night and you looked comfortable this morning, so being the amazing person that I am, I decided to entertain the girls for you.”

“Thank you,” I whisper softly, leaning against him. “And what have you three been up to, then?”

“We made breakfast!” Owi explains, motioning at the stack of dishes in the sink. “It was only cereal.”

Harry inhales, looking deeply wounded. “I’ll have you know that, that was my special cereal recipe.”

“It was only Cookie Crisp,” Owi is clearly unimpressed as she starts to crawl backwards on the counter. She feels with her foot for the stool before she lets herself down.

“With chocolate milk instead of white milk,” Harry gasps, clutching at his heart. “You’ve wounded me, Owi. I thought our breakfast was lovely.”

“It was lovely,” Cadi says softly, leaning on the counter and smiling. “Mum never lets us have chocolate milk in our cereal.”

I do have to laugh at this. “Well now that Harry has allowed you to have your daily sugar intake for the next week, Owi, don’t be so rude. It was very thoughtful and kind of Harry to make you breakfast.”

To her credit, my sister does look properly abashed at being reminded of her manners. “Sorry, Harry.”

“It’s okay,” He replies cheerfully. “All is forgiven.”

“Now then,” I clap my hands together briskly. “I think it’s time that the two of you get out of your pajamas.” I do have to raise my voice a bit to be heard over the both of them groaning. “You’ve spent the entire morning in them, and there’s no doubt that you’ll spend all of tomorrow in them, too. Off you go, then.” I shoo the two of them out of the kitchen and wait until I hear both girls walking upstairs before I turn to look at Harry.

He’s all but collapsed into a chair, and the poor thing looks exhausted, though I have a slight feeling that he’s playing it up for me so that he’ll get some sympathy. Which he absolutely will, and we both know it.

“My hero,” I announce, wrapping my arms around his neck and kissing him softly.

Harry smiles with his eyes still shut, and loops his arms around my waist. “Well if that’s the thanks I get for letting you have a lie in, I think I’ll be letting you have a lot more of them.”

“You could have woken me up,” I reply, perching myself on his lap. “Why didn’t you?”

He shrugs, still leaning against me. “Don’t tell anyone, but I thought you looked quite cute while you were asleep, so I didn’t have the heart to wake you.”

“Well thank you,” I kiss him again gently. “Tad texted me earlier this morning to tell me that they expect to be discharged by noon, and then they’ll be on their way home.”

“That’s good news,” Harry replies, his hands creeping up the back of my shirt. He starts to laugh at the way I jump at the sensation of his cold fingertips playing a delicate tune across my spine. “Are you ready for Teagan to come home?”

“I am,” I reply, pushing his hands out from under my shirt as I hear someone start to come down the stairs. “The only question, Your Royal Highness, is are you ready to share a household with a newborn baby?”

“Of course,” He scoffs, looking thoroughly at ease with himself. “It’s just a baby, Bryn. Honestly you act like she’s going to be a time bomb; how bad can she be? She’s not even 48 hours old.”



“Bryn, Owi stole my marker, and she won’t give it back.” Cadi appears in the doorway of the kitchen looking as vexed as I think I’ve ever seen her.

I turn away from the range, from where I’d been waiting for the kettle to boil so I could fix myself a cup of tea. All I’d wanted was a few moments of silence to myself, and so I’d sent the girls into the living room to make welcome cards for Mum and Teagan. But clearly that hadn’t worked out so well.

“Owi,” I raise my voice, doing my best to keep the frustration out of my tone. “Please give your sister back her marker.”

“But I needed it,” Owi retorts, and I can practically hear the eye roll from the next room.

I inhale deeply and hold my breath for five seconds before I exhale. “Owena.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll give it back,” Owi snaps crossly.

I muster up a smile, and look at my sister. “There you go, then, Cadi. All better.”

Cadi nods and disappears from sight and I wait a second before I sigh heavily and pinch at the bridge of my nose exasperatedly. Today has actually been the longest day of my entire life.

It’s nearing dinner time, just going on six o’clock and my parents still aren’t home yet. Tad had called me just past noon and let me know that they weren’t going to be discharged quite yet since Teagan hadn’t had a proper dirty diaper yet. Apparently baby needs to have a soiled nappy before they can be released, and so Mum was doing her best to feed Teagan so that she could dirty up a nappy enough to satisfy the nurse.

And then by the time she had a dirty nappy, I guess there was a massive influx of mums going into labor so Mum and Tad had to wait for a nurse to be free enough to complete the discharge tests and paperwork. It was frustrating enough for us here at home (especially for the two young girls who are most anxious for their baby sister to finally come home), so I can’t even imagine how my parents are feeling.

But I’d had a phone call from Tad not even two hours ago stating that they were finally discharged and they were on their way home. I’d made the mistake of telling the girls once I’d gotten off the phone, and they’d gone absolutely insane. There had been loads of yelling and running around before I’d managed to settle them down enough to where I was sure they weren’t going to murder each other.

Now I’m just about at my wit’s end. Don’t get me wrong, I love my sisters. I adore them with every ounce of my being. I’m just not sure how Mum is able to stay at home with them all day, every day. I’m dying for some peace and quiet, and it’s only been two days.

I can sense Harry studying me intently, and so I paste on the brightest smile I can muster and turn to face him. He snorts through his nose before he holds open his arms to me, and looks at me knowingly.

I hesitate for the briefest of seconds before I willingly fold myself against him and sigh into his chest. “Am I a terrible sister?”

“Absolutely not,” He replies immediately. “That is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard, Bryn Alexander.”

I do have to relax at his words. Because ever since a few hours ago, it had been a constant thought in the back of my head, plaguing me and I wasn’t able to make the voice shut up, despite my best efforts.

“It’d be hard for anyone to go from not having any little children around them, to being surrounded and constantly at their beck and call,” He replies in that soft, serious voice that I do so love. “And you’re doing a splendid job of it so far.”

“So even though I just want to curl up on the sofa and watch Netflix with a cuppa, instead of spending time with my siblings, I’m not a horrid human being?” My voice is muffled into his shirt, though judging by the way he starts to chuckle, he’s heard me, despite my best efforts.

His arms squeeze me and I can feel the soft kiss that he presses to the crown of my head. “Of course not. Everyone needs some time to themselves. Now, tell you what,” He gently pushes me out of his embrace so that he can properly see me. “How about I take the girls out to pick up some supper? You enjoy these last few minutes of quiet before your parents get home, and then we’ll all have a lovely meal together, and then your demon siblings will no longer be any of our concern.”

I do have to laugh at this. “You’re horrible… but thank you. I am not quite sure what I would have done if you hadn’t been here to help me.”

“Yes, well, I am amazing,” Harry replies airily with a nonchalant toss of his head. “And I’m the best boyfriend in the whole entire world.”

I catch his hand up with both of my own and run my thumb across the back of his hand before slowly, I bring his hand up to my lips and press a soft, sweet kiss to his warm skin. “You are,” I whisper, keeping my eyes down low so that he can’t see the sudden rush of emotion that flood over me.

I am so in love with the man in front of me. And honestly? It scares me a bit. I’ve never felt this way about someone before now, and it’s all horrifyingly grown up and serious and yet, thrilling and exhilarating. I wouldn’t trade it for the entire world. I’m going to tell him—before we go back to London, I mean. I am going to tell Harry how I feel, and-and I’ll completely let my guard down, and I guess I’ll see what happens.

I’m not sure why I’m freaking out so much. I mean, I know that Harry loves me. I see it in his eyes, and the way he looks at me when he thinks I’m not paying attention. I guess I’m just the most nervous about being the first to show vulnerability, of opening up the door to what all of this means.

Which is stupid. Because if two people love each other, and if their love isn’t hurting anyone, then they should be together. Harry makes me a better person, and I-I’d like to think that I make him a better person, too. I’m actually getting quite used to the idea of a long and blissfully happy future with Harry. And I’m not saying that I’m expecting a ring or anything out of him now. God, that’s absolutely the last thing on my mind right now. But, I guess… the idea of having any kind of a future with him doesn’t frighten me nearly as badly as it did a few months ago.

What frightens me now is that if we admit to our feelings to each other, if we take what has thus far been a relatively casual and private relationship, and we take the next step, then we have to admit to ourselves and to the rest of the world that we are a couple. And that means that I’d meet his family, I suppose. Well, I’d meet more than William and Kate, I mean. And the media would find out about me. And I’m not so sure that I’m brave enough to handle all of that.

God, I’m babbling in my head. Just shut up already, Bryn. You’re overthinking all of this. Don’t complicate what has been the best thing in your life so far.

“Hey, you,” Harry’s voice presses through my thoughts and I finally allow my eyes to travel up to his own. “Where has your smile gone?”

And then I hear it in his voice. His love for me surrounds and envelops every single syllable of every single word that he utters. I’m being an idiot, and I’m overanalyzing what should be the sweetest, purest thing in my life.

“It’s right here,” I smile and squeeze his hands before I let them go.

He brings his left hand up and cups my face sweetly before rubbing the pad of his thumb beneath my eye so, so softly. I lean into his touch, close my eyes and sigh contentedly. If only we could stay like this for the rest of our lives…

“There’s my girl,” Harry whispers before he leans forward and kisses me thoroughly. I’m quite breathless by the time we break apart, and I have to resist the urge to reach back out for him. “Now then, I’m off. Any particular choices for dinner, except for Olive’s, because I know you’ve had it twice since you came home, and you’ve only been here three days.”

I do have the common decency to blush at his words. True, I had had Olive’s kebabs twice since my return home to Colchester. But in my defense, once had been my first night with Mum and Tad, and the second time had been because Harry needed to try them, too. So, in my opinion, that one can hardly count against me.

“Well if I’m not allowed to have Olive’s, then I suppose it doesn’t matter,” I reply airily, slipping off of his lap and heading towards the living room where I can already hear the beginnings of another squabble between my two siblings. “Girls, do you want to go with Harry to pick up some dinner?”

Owi doesn’t even look up from where she’s busy coloring in what appears to be our family as stick figures, including Coco, Boo, and a vivid ginger that I suspect is meant to be Harry. She has a spectacular array of green and purple marks going across her face, and I can only assume that she had briefly gotten bored with the paper in front of her and elected to draw on her own skin. “I’d rather not, thanks.”

Well then. That took the wind right out of my sails.

Very, very briefly I contemplate forcing my sister into going out with Harry anyway, just so that I can have a few moments of blessed silence, before I swallow down that intrusive thought and lock it away. Honestly, I’m in the home stretch now, and then Mum and Tad will be home, and I will be more than happy to let them corral these two and amuse them for the rest of my stay here.

“Come on then,” Harry pipes up from behind me, and I jump a bit at the sound of his voice. I hadn’t realized that he’d followed me into the living room. “I don’t know my way around Colchester, Owi, and I’ll need all the help that I can get finding a good restaurant. Bryn tells me that you know all of the best places to eat in town.”

This does seem to mollify her. Her marker stops moving across her paper, and I can honestly see her thought process roll across her face before she sighs heavily, as if she carries the weight of the world upon her shoulders, and then caps her marker with a heavy sigh before she turns to look at Harry with all of the sass parading across her brow. “I suppose so.”

“Excellent,” Harry beams brilliantly, the corners of his eyes crinkling up. To his credit, he doesn’t let on to the burst of laughter that I know is brewing deep in his chest to laugh at my sibling’s theatrics. Instead, he turns to Cadi, who has been studying their exchange rather thoughtfully. “What say you, Cadi, care to help me out by being my co-pilot?”

She nods and stands up from where she’s been on her knees at the coffee table. “Is Griff coming with us?”

Harry peeks over at me before replying. “How about this be an adventure just between the three of us for now? Griff can join us next time.”

This seems to placate her. And so I spend the next ten minutes wrapping both of the girls up snuggly in their winter jackets and hats before Harry takes each of them by the arm and allows them to pull him to his car, nattering on incessantly about where they both wanted to eat, and what did they think Baby Teagan wanted for her first meal home.

He does throw me one last look over his shoulder, and I think he’s internally questioning why he continually puts himself into these types of situations, before he gets the girls settled in the backseat and backs out of the drive. I remain on the front porch and wave at the three of them before they pull away and disappear around the bend, the glow of Harry’s brake lights casting a reddish glow through the trees.

It doesn’t take me long to finish fixing my cup of tea, especially as the kettle has been whistling cheerfully for the last ten minutes or so. I throw another log into the fire, and poke at the embers to keep the flame going before I settle down in the rocker in the kitchen and sigh contentedly.

If I ever had any doubts before now that I am turning into my mother, then they’re all blown away by now. How many times have I seen Mum in this very position after sending the girls out with Tad on some banal errand?

My tea isn’t even halfway gone before I hear the crunch of gravel beneath tires coming down the drive. Both of the dogs perk up, and Boo does scuttle off to the door, though Coco resumes her position of napping lazily next to the hearth. Doors slam shut outside and I can hear Tad talking before the front door opens, bringing the bitterly cold snap of winter air as Mum guides a car seat through the door.

“We’re home!” He calls out just behind her, dropping their overnight bags on the floor and shutting the door behind him. “Girls?”

“In the kitchen,” I respond, draining my tea and moving towards the kettle once again.

Mum appears in the doorway, looking tired but happy. She sets the baby seat up on the kitchen table before she starts to unwrap herself from the layers of clothes that she’d been bundled up in. “Hello, love. Where is everyone?”

“Harry took the girls to go pick up some supper,” I respond, using a dishcloth to lift the kettle and filling it up again at the tap. “They’ve only just left, so you have a little bit to get yourself settled in.”

“Ah,” Mum grins knowingly, draping her coat over a kitchen chair and moving for the blanket that’s stretched over top the carrier. “Needed a bit of quiet then, did you?”

“I have a new found appreciation for your patience,” I joke, setting the kettle back on the hob and clicking on the gas. “How did checkout go?”

Tad, who has spent the last minute or two wrestling with Boo in the foyer, walks into the kitchen on the heels of my words. “Miss Lady had a lovely nappy for nurse to clean; although it seems like everyone in bloody Essex decided to have their kid just as we were about to leave.”

“Hush,” Mum throws over her shoulder, casting a disapproving look at her husband. “You know babanod have schedules of their own, Jack. Can you unpack the bags for me, please? I have a few things in there that I think we’ll be needing tonight. It’s just about time for a feeding, I think.”

It’s interesting to watch Tad hover protectively over Mum as he guides her into the rocker that I’d vacated only moments earlier. He eases her down and then shoos away the dogs before he stokes the fire (despite the fact that it’s roaring happily in the grate thanks to the log I’d popped in) and then starts to rummage through their luggage.

“What do you need, my love?” He asks, pulling out a u-shaped pillow. “The Boppy? Her tracking papers?”

Mum winces and then nods. “The Boppy, I think, and maybe a spit rag.” She catches my worried gaze and smiles tiredly. “I’m alright then, love. It’s just about time to top off my paracetamol, is all.”

“I can get that for you,” I move for her bag and pull out the bottle that the midwife has evidently stashed away for her. “I’m making a fresh cuppa now, how many can you have?”

Mum flinches and makes a small noise of distress. “I—Jack—”

Tad moves immediately, dropping the papers he’d been looking at on the kitchen table and reaching for his wife. “What do you need?”

“A pillow or something, I think.” Mum’s voice breaks. “I-I can’t sit.”

For lack of anything to do, I wring my hands nervously. I don’t remember this at all when Owi was born. Maybe I’d just been too young to realize what was happening, but Mum looks utterly knackered and it’s a bit alarming to see her in pain. Although, now that I think about it, it’d be stupid for her not to be in pain after having birthed a human being not even two days ago.

“Bee, can you take Teagan?” Tad has scooped the baby out of Mum’s arms and is holding her out expectantly.

I start forward, holding my arms out, and let him settle her down before he gently pulls Mum to her feet. I’m momentarily distracted by Teagan whimpering pathetically in my arms, and I watch, horrified, as her little face screws up and she starts to cry that shrill newborn wail that terrifies me to no end.

“There, there,” I soothe, bouncing her up and down a bit in place. She’s searching for something to eat, I realize and I pull her away from my body slightly. I have to confess that I’m a bit grossed out at the thought of nursing a baby. “I-I don’t think I can quite help you with that, ma’am. Give Mum just two seconds, okay, love?”

“I can take her back,” Mum announces, holding out her arms. She is still wearing her hospital bracelet and I notice a few bruises up and down her arms from her IV tracks. She’s seated on a cushion that Tad magically procured from somewhere, and she looks much more at ease.

So I hand the baby back and then busy myself at the kettle while Mum settles down Teagan. Tad hovers for a moment or two more before he gathers together their bags and moves off towards the bedroom to begin unpacking as Mum had asked him.

I shake three pills out into my hand before I finish making Mum’s tea before I set both things down at her elbow and then curl up on the sofa, tucking my legs neatly beneath me.

Mum is rocking and humming softly to Teagan as they begin to nurse. “There, there, annwyl. It’s not all that bad, is it? It’s hard being born, isn’t it?”

She looks tired—exhilarated, but tired. There are bags under her eyes that are blue and purple, and her hair is frizzy and half falling out of the ponytail that she has it tucked up in. In addition to the bruises that peek out from beneath her long sleeved shirt, her skin is red and a bit irritated down the one side. I’d reckon she hasn’t had a proper night’s rest since the night before they left to go to hospital. Despite all of this, I have to think privately that she looks absolutely wonderful.

The way she cradles Teagan close to her, and the way her arm is curved to keep the baby safe and warm against her body, all radiate love and contentedness. Her eyes are soft and sparkling, and I have to realize that Mum would redo her entire pregnancy and delivery again and again if it meant that she could end up here in this specific moment in time.

“Bee?” Mum breaks her gaze away from her newborn daughter and looks up at me.

I blink owlishly, brushing away the sentimental thoughts overcrowding my mind, and smile at her. “Yes, Mum?”

“I’ve been thinking this over and over in my mind ever since yesterday,” She begins, looking back down at the baby and I know, I know exactly what’s going to come out of her mouth. “And I can’t quite work out just how you and Harry have met, and how you managed to bring a prince into my house. Care to explain?”

Despite the fact that I knew this conversation was coming, it doesn’t make it any easier for me to have. Really, the only proper explanation that I’ve had to do about Harry has been to Amanda, Raina, and Jeanette. And that was easy, because in all of Amanda and Jeanette’s theatrics, they sortof took over the story line and I didn’t have to do much describing of my private relationship with Harry.

“We met at a polo match that Liv drug me to,” I reply softly, wrapping my arms around my knees and hugging my limbs close to my chest. “We ran into each other a few times at different events, and we talked, and that’s it.”

Mum is staring at me intently, and I can already tell that my explanation is not thorough enough for her. “And that’s it? You went from talking to bringing a prince into my delivery room?”

“Well that was a surprise,” I do have to smile at the irritation in her voice. “He surprised me just after the two of you left for hospital. I guess he thought that we shouldn’t spend our first Christmas apart, and he knew that I’d need the help with the girls, so he showed up. Honestly, I didn’t know he was going to show up and then I didn’t want to distract you from your labor.”

“Fat chance of distracting me from those contractions,” Mum sniffs, making a big show out of rearranging the burp cloth that’s hanging off of her shoulder. “And stop trying to distract me! How did my eldest daughter go from talking to dating a prince?”

I take my time in replying. How can I explain my relationship with Harry without sounding like a complete nutter? Invitations showed up in my post, and I blindly went on the off chance that I might run into him, and we’d have these short snippets of conversations, and I’d treasure those moments like precious jewels until the next time I saw him again. Seeing those familiar, dancing crystal blue eyes and knowing that his entire attention was on me, and witnessing the way his smile would unfurl across his lips like a banner was intoxicating. I had been addicted—was still addicted to his laugh and his smile and his eyes and his… his, well, everything.

“I invited him to a dinner at my flat, and that was that. It’s a bit overwhelming,” I admit quietly, more so to myself than my mother. “But I love it. I love every moment that I spend with him.”

“Do you love him?” She asks softly, and for a short second, the only noise in the room is Teagan sucking hungrily.

And then I find myself nodding. “I do. I love him more than anything in this entire world.”

“And he treats you well?” She asks, still studying my profile intently. “Because your father has spent the last twelve hours rehearsing The Talk that he thinks he has to have with Harry about taking care of you.”

I do laugh at this mental image. I can see Tad pacing the hospital room and ranting to Mum as he rakes his hands through his hair haphazardly. How does one properly threaten his firstborn daughter’s boyfriend to treat her well, without offending a member of the Royal Family? It’s a delicate line to walk, and I’m suddenly thankful that it’s one that my father won’t have to navigate.

“He treats me like I’m the most precious thing he's ever seen,” I admit in a voice that’s not quite my own. It’s soft, and small, and a bit timid, but there’s an underlying thread of strength and happiness sparkling beneath.

Mum nods, having been satisfied by my responses. “Well then, that’s all that I can ask for then, I suppose. Your father is going to need to run out and buy him some presents, because we can’t show up tomorrow morning without something for Harry to open now, can we?”



It’s late as I slip out of my bed and carefully pick my way out of the room. I stop on the threshold long enough to shut the door behind me before I make my down from the attic.

The second floor is quiet. The grandfather clock at the end of the hallway is ticking in that soothing way that I’ve known since childhood, and I can hear the pipes grumbling a bit in the walls as they work to keep the house warm. I take a second to peer into Cadi and Owi’s rooms, and both of the girls are breathing deeply, rhythmically, and contentedly.

I head down to the first floor, intent on having a cup of tea in the hopes that it would make me tired enough to fall asleep. But as I descend the steps, I realize that the fire in the kitchen is going comfortably and that there’s a figure in Mum’s rocking chair, slowing rocking.

“Mum?” I hardly recognize my own voice, as it comes out all throaty and rough. “Alright then?”

Mum stirs in her rocker before she smiles sleepily up at me. Teagan is nestled cozily in her arms. “We just had a feeding, and little miss has decided that she would rather fuss than go back to sleep.” Another impressive yawn takes over, and she stops rocking to cover her mouth with her elbow.

“You need your sleep, too.” I observe as I move for the sink and begin to fill up the kettle. Honestly, how many cups of tea have I had in the last few days?

Mum makes a noncommittal noise in the back of her throat, and then makes a big fuss over rearranging the blankets around her baby. “Well she was hungry, and I wasn’t quite ready to let her go yet.”

I set the kettle on the range, and then click on the flame before I lean against the counter and observe my mother once again. She’s quite clearly exhausted. “Has she eaten?” I ask, crossing my arms under my chest. When Mum nods and resumes her rocking, I move closer to the two of them. “I can take her for a few hours.”

The look that Mum bestows upon me is incredulous and a bit leery. I will be the first one to admit that I’m not the most comfortable with children, but I’m more than capable of looking after a newborn for a few hours—especially a baby that’s been fed recently. I’m a great pacer, and I can walk holes in this floor if that’s what it takes to get Teagan to go to sleep.

“I’m only here for a few more days,” I carry on. “So you might as well take advantage of my help now before I leave. Plus you’re tired and I’m not quite ready for bed yet, so I’ll take Teagan for a bit to let you have a bit of a sleep.”

“Are you sure?” Mum begins, but another almighty yawn overtakes her. “Okay, okay, but promise me that you’ll come get me if she doesn’t go to sleep?” I nod and then Mum eases herself out of her rocker.

Her slippers rasp against the hardwood floor as she walks towards me. I take the warm, solid bundle of blankets away from her and then peer down at my sister’s tiny baby face before I look up at Mum.

“Go on then,” I laugh a bit and begin to herd her out of the kitchen. “Teagan and I will be fine. Go get some rest, and then come back and see me in a few hours.”

Mum mumbles something under her breath, but then she yawns yet again, which she covers lazily with the sleeve of her robe. A tired, yet content smile pulls at her lips before she presses a sweet kiss to Teagan’s forehead and then to my own temple before she shuffles out of the room.

I wait until I can hear the creak of the steps as she moves upstairs before I make a move myself. As I wait for the water to boil in the kettle, I settle down in the abandoned rocker and study the tiny human that’s in my arms.

She has that tiny, pinched newborn face that’s still a bit red and swollen from being born. Her nose comes up a bit at the end, and privately I think that it looks like the nose of my gran on my dad’s side, but I think I’ll keep that information to myself. Her dainty lips are puckered, and I can smell the milk on her breath. It’s almost as if she’s drunk off of it, with the way that her eyes roll into the back of her head.

Currently she’s sporting a soft pink knit hat that Mum’s made her, but I know that beneath the stitches, she has a crown of dark fuzz that covers her head completely. She’s still so new that she hasn’t quite adjusted to the outside world, and so I also know that if I were to unravel her from the mass of blankets that she’s trapped in, her little wiry arms and legs will automatically curl up and over her body. I expect it’s because she ran out of room a long time ago in Mum’s belly, and so her limbs are just used to squishing themselves together.

Behind me, the kettle begins to whistle and so I get out of the chair and move around the kitchen slowly, swaying slightly as I move from cupboard to drawer. I grab a mug and a spoon and then the tea from the pantry, and as I move, I keep up a constant stream of low, soothing thoughts to my sister.

She doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, she watches me with those dark, serious eyes as I make my cup of tea and then return back to my seat in the rocker. The fire is still roaring merrily in the hearth, and the flames cast shadows about the room. For a moment, I am content with my tea in one hand and the baby nestled softly in my other to listen to the snap and crackle of the logs as they burn.

“There you are.”

Harry’s voice is what wakes me from my daydream. Time has evidently passed, based on the fact that Teagan is sleeping in my arms and the fire has died down a bit. Even my tea has cooled down considerably, much to my chagrin.

I smile up at him as he walks towards me. I do have to suppress a bout of laughter. Normally Harry sleeps in his underthings and not much else, but evidently he’d taken our housemates into consideration as he’s sporting a pair of dark flannel pajama pants and a long, dark thermal.

“How long have you been down here?” He wonders, coming to a stop next to me and then looking down at the infant in my arms. “Oh, you have the baby—your turn with the nocturnal banshee?” He pokes gentle fun at the stereotype of angry, screaming babies, though we both realize that Teagan is quite calm for a newborn.

Not that either one of us has much experience when it comes to babies, but still. Surely it isn’t that usual for babies to be so calm and quiet?

“Mum looked dead on her feet, so I offered to take a turn as I couldn’t sleep.” I shrug my shoulders and then take a sip of my lukewarm tea. “What about you? You were dead to the world when I left you.”

Harry has the decency to look a bit sheepish, though I can’t fault him too terribly much. He’s not much used to running around with little children all day, being at their constant beck and call. Bless him, he’d indulged Cadi and Owi in every single one of their whims. It’s no wonder he was out like a light.

“You weren’t there when I woke up,” He replies, giving a halfhearted shrug of his own thin shoulders. “And so I came to find you. Tea?” His eyebrow quirks at the sight of the teacup in my grasp.

“I was hoping it would be enough to put me to sleep,” I admit quietly, shifting Teagan gingerly. My one arm has gone quite numb, and I’m dying to reclaim my limb back as my own. “Shall I make you one?”

Harry yawns and scratches at his cheek. As he hasn’t shaved since the day before last, he’s accumulated quite a bit of stubble on his face. The hair rasps beneath his fingertips, and I have to suppress my urge to hum in contentment. There’s just something so-so domesticated about seeing a man with rumpled pajamas and a nice shadow across his cheekbones. Not to mention, the sight of Harry’s messy hair is enough to melt me.

“A cuppa would be lovely,” He replies. “I-I can take the baby,” He adds shyly, before he folds his arms into a crude circle. There’s something almost juvenile about the way that he responds, and I have to stop myself from cooing back at him.

Just as I make a move to give him the baby, he drops his arms and then frowns. “I think I should sit down first, actually. I don’t think your mum’s hospitality would extend much further if I managed to drop her baby.”

At this, I do laugh, though I quickly stifle it before I can wake anyone else up in the house. “I would have to agree with you on that. Here,” I rise up off of the rocker. “Take my seat and the baby while I make you a cup.”

It doesn’t take me long to move around the kitchen, gathering together the things I’ll need to fix Harry’s tea. As I work, I hum softly under my breath, a soft and gentle noise that fills the kitchen. I can feel Harry’s eyes on me as I lift the whistling kettle off of the hob with the aid of a well-worn dishtowel. The towel goes back up and over my shoulder once I’m done pouring the water into the mug.

I look from under my eyelashes as I busy myself by pouring milk. “What?” It comes out as more of a strangled laugh, and as I move to put the milk bottle back into the fridge, I tuck my hair back behind my ears self-consciously.

Harry smiles, a soft smile that reaches his eyes and softens the lines that rest around his eyes and his mouth. He shakes his head. “Nothing.”

It takes me another few moments to clean up after myself, but soon enough, I find myself curling up next to Harry on the sofa that he’s moved to in order for us to sit together. The fire is still crackling noisily behind the grate, and as I settle into Harry’s side, I’m careful not to spill anything on the cushions.

“Here,” I turn slightly. “I’ll swap you out.”

Harry readily gives up Teagan, and I hand over his tea before the baby is situated comfortably in my own lap. She’s sleeping soundly, sucking on her tongue as she dreams. Her hands are clenched into tiny fists that rest up by her face, and sporadically she’ll twitch as she gets used to being outside of the womb.

On a side note, how absolutely horrific is it to realize that a little over 48 hours ago, this creature was swimming around in side of Mum? I can’t even think of the word ‘womb’ without my scalp crawling in revulsion.

“This is a bit weird, isn’t it?” Harry’s voice cuts through the silence suddenly.

I frown, tearing my gaze away from Teagan and looking at my boyfriend sideways. What is he talking about? I’ve made his tea exactly the same way as I’ve done about five hundred times before this.

Harry must have seen the puzzled look that I’d given him, because he chuckles softly under his breath before he shifts and then pulls me closer. “Not the drink, Bry.”

“Oh,” I go back to looking at the baby. “Right, I knew that.”

“No, you didn’t, love.” Harry’s lips are right next to my ear before he presses a soft kiss on my skin. “But your secret is safe with me, I promise.” He ends his sentence with another gentle kiss into my hair. “I was talking about, well—this,” He gestures to the room around us with the hand that not currently wrapped around me. “This whole thing.”

I hesitate, and then look around slowly. “My family’s kitchen?”

“You are adorable when you’re confused,” He laughs, taking a sip of his tea. “But I was talking about this,” And then he looks pointedly down at the slumbering Teagan.

“My new baby sister is weird?” My lips twitch in amusement as alarm blossoms on Harry’s face as he realizes what he’s accidentally just insinuated. I bump him lightly with my shoulder. “Relax, I was only joking. I know what you meant.”

A log in the fireplace pops, and then falls apart as the flames lick through the kindling. The falling wood causes a shower of bright orange and red sparks to float upward, and I turn to watch the fire, and to see the shadows that jump and dance around the room.

“I was talking about me being here,” Harry tries again for the third time to bring up what’s on his mind. “Seven months ago, did you ever think that I would be here—that we would be here?”

“Here in Colchester, sitting next to your girlfriend?” I tease him lightly, mindful of the baby sleeping cozily in my arms.

Harry shoots me a rather unimpressed look, though his gaze does soften as he catches my own eye. “No, no, I mean, here in Colchester, sitting next to my girlfriend in the middle of the night—my girlfriend, who I might add, is holding a newborn baby. It’s just—it’s weird.”

And then suddenly the whole situation makes sense to me. It’s this tiny slice of domesticity that’s making Harry feel on edge. And the more I think about it, the more it makes sense. When was the last time that Harry’s family gathered together like mine has today? I can’t exactly say that I can comfortably picture the Queen making everyone a hearty, home cooked meal, or Camilla wandering about the house in her housecoat with a bare face and her hair braided in two plaits like a schoolgirl.

Nor can I imagine his family getting together over the years just because they want to see each other. He’s not used to a house full of children, who scream and laugh and play all day long, or children who aren’t bound by social decorum to remain silent and unobtrusive because of some social etiquette.

My eyes flit between his profile and the fire before I speak up again. “Is it a good weird, or a bad weird?”

“It’s a good weird,” He replies immediately, as he begins to run the tips of his fingers idly up and down my arm. “It’s—it’s new to me, but I like it. I like it a lot more than I thought that I would, this whole… thing,” He gestures around at the house again. “I don’t know; it’s hard to explain.”

“You don’t have to explain if you don’t want to,” I offer quietly, leaning into his body heat. “I think I understand what you’re trying to say.”

“But that’s the thing,” He begins, still boring holes into the burning logs as he strings together his words. “I want to explain this to you. And I know that I’m not the best when it comes to saying how I feel, or what I want, or why I do most of the things that I do, but it just—it feels right.”

He’s grasping for words to explain how he feels, and I can see it written plainly across his face. In fact, he’s stopped rubbing my arm comfortingly altogether and settled instead for gripping me tightly.

“I am happy here,” Harry’s words are jarred and halting. “I am happy here with you.”

At this, I do look away from Teagan and I turn my upper body so that I can see him comfortably without waking the baby. “I’m happy here with you, too.”

“Do you want children?” He blurts out, his cheeks reddening as the weight of his words settle into the room.

My mouth opens and then closes as I realize what exactly he’s asking. The enormity of what he’s just said is rather alarming, and I half expect him to crack a dazzling smile and quip that it’s just a joke.

But he’s still holding on to me desperately, and watching me very closely for any type of reaction to his question. And this makes my heart start to speed up and spiral off into a hundred different directions.

Children!? He’s asking me about children!? Does he realize the implications of what he’s just said to me? I mean, we haven’t even been together a year, and he’s already asking about kids.

Sure, we’d discussed it that one time in the car while we were stuck in traffic. But it more like a random conversation that we’d touched upon and then hadn’t felt the need to bring about again since we were both basically on the same page. I’d just assumed that the children bit would come later.

Much later, actually.

As in maybe when-I-was-closer-to-thirty later, and I would definitely have to have a ring on my finger before I came anywhere close to entertaining that notion. And now I sound like I expect a marriage proposal from Harry, but I don’t—not at all. Maybe in a year or two, certainly. But we’re still getting to know each other. I don’t know nearly enough about him in order to be comfortable spending the rest of my life with him. I’ve had relationships with a pair of shoes last longer than Harry and I have so far.

“Bryn.”

I jump at my name, and then look at my boyfriend, who’s still watching me with desperate eyes. “Harry,” I play the dumb card to buy myself a little more time before I have to answer that question.

“Bryn,” Harry repeats himself in a voice that suggests to me that he doesn’t have time for my normal beating-around-the-bush approach to serious subject matters. He knows me well enough to know that I avoid intense conversations like this like the plague, and I also know that I… well, I love Harry too much to put him through another agonizing second of this topic.

God, I love him, and that frightens me to no end.

“I do want children, Harry.” I smile up at him. “Someday, yes, but not anytime soon. I-I’m not even out of school yet.”

“I know,” He answers. “It’s just—today has taught me that I want this,” He motions between us. “I want this more than I thought I did. I want to wake up in the middle of the night and find you in the kitchen with a-a baby,” His voice cracks adorably at that word, at the mention, at the very thought of a child that shares a little bit of the both of us. “I want to walk into our kitchen and see you with-with… rocking and humming and—you have this fantastic maternal side that you bury down so deep inside of you,” He laughs, before he pulls away from me and sets his empty mug down on the side table. “And the thought of coming home from work to your smiling face, or waking up in the middle of the night to you wrapped around me because for some reason, you’re like a heat-seeking missile in your sleep, or hearing you sing to a baby as you run them through the bath… it’s all that I’ve ever wanted.” His words hang heavily in the air before he finally makes eye contact with me. “I think it’s what I’ve been looking for since Mum and Dad broke up. I found home, Bryn. You are home to me; I’m home.”

“I love you,” I whisper softly. I can feel my eyes burning with unshed tears, and I’m confused with as to why I’m crying. But my heart is beating so rapidly in my throat that I’m feeling a bit lightheaded, and I’m certain that Harry can’t hear me over the way that I’m completely panicking.

But he kisses me and I know. I know he’s heard me, and I know that I have fallen completely and utterly head-over-heels in love with the man in front of me.

“Say it again,” He demands in a hoarse whisper, grasping on to my face to force my eyes onto his—as if I’d be able to look away from him. “Say it again for me, Bryn.”

“I love you,” I say a bit more confidently, though my voice is still low and choked. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” His breath is hot across my skin, and his touch is light and adoring in every way. “I love you, too.”