Bloom

April

“I’m taking the kids to MoMA Monday afternoon,” Mom said, looking at me over a rack of vintage dresses. By ‘the kids,’ she meant the group of 10-13 year olds in one of the art classes she taught. “Interested?”

I stood in front of a full-length mirror, a large denim jacket draped over my shoulders. Even before trying it on, I’d known I was going to buy it, and now I was certain the faded blue fabric would never be leaving my person. “Yeah, sounds good.”

We’d been at the Brooklyn Flea for two hours, and Mom had already picked up three frames (each one more ornate than the last), a vintage coffee grinder, and two handmade pillows in the shape of a whale and a bumble-bee. Since I was limited to a duffle bag, I tried to keep my purchases small, and had only bought a few rings thus far.

As I was examining my reflection, Mom appeared at my shoulder with raised eyebrows. “That’s a bit big on you,” she observed.

“It’s the style,” I informed her, rolling up the sleeves until they were the right length. “It’s a Levi’s jacket, too.”

“So this isn’t about hiding under ill-fitting clothing, like with my coat you so graciously stole without asking?”

“You never wore it!“ I exclaimed. “It’s a great coat. It deserves to be worn.”

Her gaze was calm, but unimpressed as it met mine in the mirror. “All the same.”

“I’m not hiding,” I said quietly, and maybe I believed it.

“I know, I just wanted to hear you say it.” A lady swathed in multi-patterned fabric shouldered past, throwing a glare in our direction. The narrow paths between the racks and stacks of clothes didn’t allow much room for foot traffic. Mom shifted closer to me, pulling her frames and pillows as far out of the way as she could. “I was going to say you’re back to your old self, but you aren’t.”

“I don’t understand.”

Mom turned me around so that we faced each other, rather that looking at our reflections in the mirror. “Do you remember when we used to go to the library every week, and you’d take out all those space books?”

That was years ago. We’d stopped our regular library visits when I started high school. “Yeah, why?”

“You used to be so full of wonder. I didn’t think you’d stop until you were actually up there with all the stars, where you belong.” She paused, a sad smile crossing her face. “But after you and Beckett ended things, I thought I’d lost you. My little girl, who could see the sky in a page filled with numbers and symbols. It was almost like you’d burnt out. But, you’re my daughter, so of course you’re too stubborn to let anything get in your way for too long. I knew you were still healing, and I let you go to London anyway. I didn’t want to, but I think it might be the best decision I’ve ever made.”

“Mom—“

She pursed her lips. Clearly she wasn’t finished. “You, the you standing in front of me now, isn’t the dismissive girl I saw at Christmas, or fractured soul who left me in August, or even who you were a year ago, even though you were happy then. It’s like when gravity makes one of those clouds in space collapse — don’t look at me like that, I do listen when you talk about these things — and out of all the chaos, new stars are formed. They’re made up of the same stuff as before, but they’re different at the same time, because it would be impossible not to be. You’re a new st—“

“Protostar,” I corrected, unable to help myself. The science was helping me keep my emotions in check, giving me something to focus on.

“Protostar,” Mom agreed, her eyes shining.

“Of course, protostars aren’t really stars at all, they’re more like a massive cloud of energy—“

“Imogen.”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t ruin it,” she said, with a laugh. “I was trying to get most of the science right.”

I smiled, throwing my arms around her and burying my face in her identical chestnut brown hair. “Thanks,” I mumbled.

Her grip on me was tight. “I love you, honey. Always.”

“I love you too.”

It occurred to us at the same time that we were having a very big moment in the middle of one of the many the vintage clothing stalls at the Brooklyn Flea, and we broke away with laughter and damp eyes. I bought the jacket and we left, suddenly starving. There were a lot of options here and we loved them all, so we went to the first one we came across. It was one of those organic, vegan, locally-sourced places that Mom loved, and she greeted the girl behind the counter by name.
She opted for the mushroom melt while I got hummus toast, and we grabbed coffees from the local roaster two stalls over before finding a spot outside to eat.

It was a mild day, with a clear sky and not too much of a breeze. If we’d gone up to Williamsburg, where the Flea had another location, the wind coming off the river probably would’ve made for a chillier outing. But we were only a ten minute walk from Fort Greene, so we almost always came here instead, except for the few times that Mom insisted upon going to a certain vendor that only ever set up shop in Williamsburg.

As I bit into my sandwich, my phone started vibrating in back pocket of my jeans. I set down my food and pulled it out, Harry’s name lit up on the screen. I’d deleted the photo that came up when he called after those two English majors at the library started whispering when they saw his face on my phone. I had to stop setting myself up for unnecessary anxiety.

“I missed that smile,” Mom said softly, barely audible above the commotion of the market.

“What smile?”

Her expression was all-knowing. “Your ‘in love’ smile.”

My smile, whatever kind it was, disappeared, and I ran an unsteady hand through my hair as I answered Harry’s call. “Hi,” I said, trying to sound not at all freaked out, which I was.

“Are you okay?”

Fuck. “Um, yes?”

“Okay,” he hummed, and I could tell by his tone that he didn’t believe me. I didn’t even want to know how I sounded to him. “What are you up to?”

“We’re at the Flea.”

“So that’s what all that noise is,” Harry said. “Is it nice? Did you buy anything?”

I ignored Mom’s curious stare, shifting away from her so I could focus better on Harry’s raspy voice in my ear. “A jacket. It was forty percent off, and someone in a nineties grunge band probably owned it. Also some rings. I got one for you, I don’t know if that’s okay, and you totally don’t have to wear it or anything, but I—“

“Thank you,” Harry cut in.

“It probably costs less than a pair of your socks, but you better treat it like it’s made of gold like all your other ones.”

Harry chuckled. “Promise.”

There was a crash in the background and a string of curse words that followed it. “Where are you?”

“Rehearsal studio. Louis just threw a cup at Liam. Nearly hit him, too.”

“What? Why?”

“Dunno,” Harry replied. “But he might fling another one, so I’m gonna get out of here. Tell me more about New York.”

“I’ve literally done nothing interesting all week. This is the first time I’ve left the apartment, really. I could stay there forever.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask about that, actually. About the offer your mum made?”

“What about it?”

“Well,” Harry hesitated. “We’re going to be in America in June, and we’re playing three shows in New Jersey and a bunch of others in the area, and I was wondering if you’d be all right with me staying with you. It’d be so much better than a hotel. What do you think?”

When Mom had made that offer to Harry, I’d been uncomfortable with the idea of him in the place where I’d grown up. But I’d seen his family home, it was only fair that he got to see mine, even if it held some painful memories. Especially because of that.

“I’ll have to talk it through with Mom, but I’m sure she won’t mind,” I answered. “And hey, maybe I can take you to some hidden gems where nobody will care who you are.”

“I’d like that,” Harry said quietly. There was somebody shouting in the background, and I heard Harry pull the phone away to shout back. “I’ve gotta go. We’re still Skyping tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. How are you—I mean, you’re doing okay? With the distance?” He sounded hesitant. Like he wasn’t sure if he should be asking, if we weren’t at that stage yet.

And I missed him. I liked sleeping next to him — usually either half on top of or under him — and waking up to a cup of coffee and a kiss to my shoulder. But I was also okay. I wasn’t worried about him doing something stupid or that I’d start freaking out without him next to me. As I sat with my hummus toast in my lap and my coffee in hand, phone tucked to my ear, I realized that I should be telling Harry all of this instead of just thinking it. That was what progress was.

So I did.

“God I miss you,” he breathed, when I’d finished. “I mean, Niall offered to cuddle with me yesterday because he said I was being miserable, but it wasn’t the same.”

A bubble of laughter escaped my lips. “I’m sorry you had to suffer through that.”

“Niall’s an excellent cuddler, actually. He just isn’t you.”

“Well, that makes me feel so much better.”

Next to me, Mom had finished her sandwich and was watching me carefully, that same knowing smile on her lips. She’d been wearing it since I told Harry all the things running through my mind — well, all the things relevant to his person — and I wanted to ask her how she knew. How she could possibly know something I’d been mulling over for weeks but hadn’t quite figured out.

“See you tomorrow,” Harry sighed.

“Bye.”

As soon as the line went dead, Mom put a hand on my arm. “I was right, wasn’t I?”



“I detest the country,” Jillian seethed. I wondered if there were actually cows in the distance on her end or if it was my imagination, amplified by Jillian’s gross oversimplifications of the small town where her family resided. “When are you coming back?”

“My flight leaves really late on Wednesday. I think I get to Heathrow at ten on Thursday. Something like that.” Despite the unfortunate hour of my flight, Harry’s assistant, Elizabeth, had still managed to get me into first class. Having never flown first class before, it was quite the experience. I shook my head at Mom, who was holding up a carton of eggs with the silent question of whether or not I wanted some for breakfast. She then swapped the eggs for yogurt and I gave her a thumbs up. “You?”

“Tomorrow. I can’t stand another day with these people,” Jillian sighed. I knew she was being dramatic, because she’d told me that she did love her family, she just didn’t fit in with them anymore. “Matt, Silas, and I are going to pick you up from the airport. Silas tried to tell Tatiana she should come along, but she’s staying with their grandparents for an extra week. I think they live in a massive house in St. Albans, which explains a lot.”

I didn’t know what she meant, but I didn’t bother asking. “Oh.”

“Oh? Is that an ‘oh,’ as in you already have plans? Don’t tell me Harry’s picking you up. He’s a right knobhead, that’s for sure, but he’s not that stupid.”

“He’s not picking me up. But I was gonna head to his right away.” As she doled out fruit and yogurt into two bowls, Mom clicked her tongue. I scowled at the back of her head.

“Not fair. Just because you two are dating doesn’t mean he gets to steal you from us.”

“He is leaving at the end of the month.”

“Can’t we all just spend some time together? What about lunch? Then you can go to Harry’s and shag his brains out. Sound good?”

I leaned against the counter, grabbing a slice of pear from the cutting board. “It’s fine with me. But I’ll have to ask Harry too. Guaranteed he won’t be as agreeable about it.”

Jillian scoffed. “Harry’s never agreeable. Besides, he’ll have to give in. It’s four against one, if Grimmy decides to grace us with his presence.”

“Silas will drag him out,” I said. My phone beeped, and I held it away from my ear to see that I had a text from Harry. We’d agreed upon a late morning call, since I wouldn’t be up before eleven and he didn’t have anything band-related to do on Sundays. “I’ve gotta go.”

“Your lover beckons?”

“For fuck’s sake, Jillian.”

“Sorry.”

“We both know that you aren’t.”

“True.” There was a pause. “See you on Thursday, then.”

I hung up, grabbed my bowl of fruit and yogurt from the counter, and headed into the living room where my laptop was charging. Once I’d signed on, I clicked on Harry’s name and settled back against the sofa, digging into my breakfast.

Harry was sitting in bed, his hair in a state of disarray and dark circles under his eyes. He hadn’t sounded that tired on the phone yesterday, and a flicker of concern lit in my chest. “Hey,” I said, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear as I leaned forward to smile into the camera.

“Hiii,” Harry drawled, shifting the laptop in his lap so that the screen fully captured his face. “How are you?”

“Good,” I replied. “You look tired.”

In response, Harry yawned. “Nick had me come out after rehearsals yesterday. I didn’t get in until half three.”

“In the morning?”

“Yeah.”

“Jesus,” I breathed. “You’d better go to sleep as soon as we’re done talking.”

Harry chuckled. “I can’t guarantee that I won’t fall asleep in the next five minutes. You’ll have to entertain me.”

“Is my presence not enough?” I joked.

“If there wasn’t a bloody ocean in the way, maybe,” Harry answered, a contemplative frown coming over his features. “If you were here, we could just lie about all day.”

“We’ve done that for the last two weekends.”

“And it was brilliant. I’ve never loved doing nothing more.”

“I guess you’re gonna have five months of non-stop action soon, so doing nothing is kind of a commodity at the moment, isn’t it?”

Harry leaned heavily against the headboard, raking a hand through his hair. “Yeah,” he breathed. “But it’s good, though. I wouldn’t change anything about my life.”

I wanted to kiss him. Not being able to do it was a lot harder to accept than I expected. “Hey,” I said, figuring we could use a change of subject. “Wanna see my new jacket?”

Harry shrugged, lower lip protruding, and I rolled my eyes at him before making a quick dash to my room to throw the denim on over my flannel shirt. When I’d sat back down in front of the laptop, Harry frowned. “That thing would fit me,” he observed.

“Jesus, you sound like my mother!”

“Is that meant to be a bad thing?” Mom asked, strolling out of the kitchen. I twisted around to narrow my eyes at her, and I heard Harry laughing. Mom stopped behind the sofa and leaned over to wave at the screen. “Hello, Harry. How are you?”

“I’m good. How are you?”

“Okay, enough with the pleasantries. Everyone’s good,” I cut in.

“I’m sorry for taking up the limited time you two have together,” Harry said. I rolled my eyes at this, but Mom actually looked impressed he’d said anything about it. “I know after the phone call yesterday, and today, and if we’re honest, I’m probably going to call tomorrow and the day after that as well.”

“I don’t think anyone is angry at you for wanting to talk to each other,” Mom said. “If I could call Imogen every day, I would.”

“That would be expensive,” I added.

“I’ll pay for the international minutes,” Harry said immediately.

This time, both Mom and I glared at him. “That’s unnecessary,” she said, at the same time I went, “Hell no.”

Harry frowned and then shrugged. “It’s no trouble.”

“No,” I said, firmer this time. Mom touched my shoulder, waved to Harry, and headed for her room. She had a class to teach in a couple hours and a portfolio meeting with one of her more experienced students before that. Mom didn’t just teach students enrolled at Pratt, but weekend classes for non-art students as well.

“Now that I’ve sort of met both your parents,” Harry said thoughtfully. “You make a lot more sense.”

“After meeting your mom,” I replied. “I still don’t understand how you’re such a dickhead.”

“Heeey,” Harry whined, frowning at me. “Not nice.”

I just grinned. “So, did you get Niall to cuddle with you again?”

“No, but I might have to. It’s funny how quickly you get used to sleeping next to someone.”

“I know,” I sighed. “And your bed is magical. It’s half the appeal, really. Maybe more than that.”

“Why are you insulting me more than usual?” Harry asked, sounding more hurt than he probably felt. “Have I missed something here?”

“Nah,” I waved a hand. “You’re just cute when you frown.”

Harry raised his eyebrows. “Cute? Now that is an insult.”

“Oh! Before I forget, Jillian’s insisting we all have lunch when I get back.”

“When is that?”

“Thursday.”

“I was hoping you’d just come straight to mine,” Harry said, brows furrowed. “I am definitely more in need of your time and attention than anyone else.”

“Is that a ‘no’ then? Because you know she’s not going to accept that as an answer.”

Harry sighed. “Fine. But I can’t guarantee I’ll be able to pretend we aren’t dating in front of them.”

“I make no promises either.”

“Lovely.”



Later that afternoon, I headed to the Columbia campus to see Dr. Gustavson. Almost as soon as my trip to New York had been solidified, I’d sent her an email to find out what day I could come for a visit. She wasn’t on campus as much this semester, so I was glad I did, because I might’ve missed her otherwise.

A student came out of her office as I approached, so I took that as a sign that I could go right in, since she wouldn’t be with anyone. Without knocking, I cracked open the door and stuck my head in, brows raised and a hopeful smile on my face. Behind her desk, Dr. Gustavson smiled brightly and removed her glasses. “Imogen!” she exclaimed. “Come in, come in.”

I grinned and sat at one of the chairs in front of her desk, dropping my purse onto the carpet and shrugging off my jacket. “Exams starting soon?”

“Oh, not until next month. But as always, there’s plenty of other work to be done.”

“Of course,” I said. Dr. Gustavson was a great professor, but her classes were known for having a heavy course load. I actually liked the consistent work, but some people didn’t.

“I’ve been waiting for you to contact me, as a matter of fact,” she said, sitting back in her chair and folding her hands in her lap.

“You have?”

“Yes,” Dr. Gustavson nodded. “Since our last conversation, I’ve been…keeping tabs on you.”

My jaw dropped. “Did you Google me, Dr. G?”

She shrugged, removing her glasses from where they were perched in hair to wipe the lenses. “You seem to have changed your mind about Harry.”

“Well, the media may have premeditated our decisions, but yeah, that’s basically what’s happened.” I met her gaze across the desk. She didn’t look disappointed or angry, just calm. Her and Mom were always so serene; I had no idea how they managed it. “We’ve been together for a couple weeks. And it’s been good.”

“But he’s leaving at the end of the month.”

I narrowed my eyes at her. “Okay, how much research did you do?”

“Enough to get a clear picture. Are you ready for a long distance relationship, Imogen?”

“I have absolutely no idea,” I answered honestly. “The last person I thought I’d have a long distance relationship with turned out to be a manipulative asshole and I haven’t really considered it since then.”

“Do you trust Harry?”

“I think I do. He hasn’t done anything to make me not trust him, but…”

“You’re still reluctant.”

“That’s the thing,” I said, pushing back my hair with both hands. My shoulders slumped as I sighed. “I want to trust him so badly, but I can’t. I want to love him, and I’m pretty sure that I do, but there’s a part of me that just keeps on resisting it.”

“I don’t think you’ve had enough time for any of those things to develop properly,” Dr. Gustavson replied. “Now, I know it’s different for everyone, but you’ve gone through a lot of pain, and it’s going to take longer for you to trust — and to love — another person because of that. Keep in mind that it’s only been a month.”

I felt the urge to explain further. “Well, we’ve only been a couple for a month, but we were stuck in this in-between state for almost three months before that. I haven’t stopped thinking about him since the beginning of the year.”

“But he’s only been committed to you for a short period of time,” Dr. Gustavson surmised. I shrugged, not really sure where Harry’s head was at most of the time. I knew a little better now, but definitely not back then. “Don’t push anything. It seems to me you’ve developed a happy balance now. Don’t fiddle with it because you think you should be somewhere different.”

“Okay.”

“The last time I saw you, you were terribly confused and had too many things on your plate. But there’s something different about you now. You’re happier.”

“I am,” I nodded. “I was in a bad place for so long; even a few months ago I was still stuck.”

Dr. Gustavson smiled. “You know, you probably don’t hear this very much, but you really are quite like your mother.”

“Actually, you’re the second person to say that to me today. Sort of.”

“Well, it’s true. You’re both very vibrant individuals.”

I’d always thought Mom had a captivating sort of quality to her — a vividness, as Dad had put it — but I didn’t think it was something we shared. I was curious, sure, but eighty percent of my clothing was black and I had too many thoughts running through my head to project any sort of focus on one thing like Mom could with her art, creating something beautiful with a bit of paint and patience. I certainly didn’t exude brightness or warmth.

But maybe I did, just in a different way. Mom said she’d never been truly happy until she moved into our tiny Brooklyn apartment filled with canvases, multicoloured walls, and mismatched furniture, and she helped people express themselves through their art every day. Maybe it was just about finding where you belonged.



“AHHHHHHHHH!”

I had about half a second to prepare before Jillian and I collided her height nearly knocking me off my feet. I didn’t fall because Matt was right behind her, and he shot out a hand to steady my back as the tall blonde squeezed all of the air out of my lungs.

“I was only gone for a week,” I wheezed, her hair in my mouth and my nose and tickling my forehead.

“And what a terrible week it was!” Jillian exclaimed, finally releasing me. I received a joint — and much lighter — hug from Matt and Silas, and then Jillian was draping her arm across my shoulders and Matt had grabbed my bag and we were heading out of the arrivals area. “Are you ready for some motherfucking waffles?”

“Always.”

What I didn’t say was that I really wanted to see Harry, and that I might not be able to keep my hands off him, and that Silas had probably be prepared for a surprise.

We made a brief stop at Astor to drop off my things, and then hopped on the Tube and headed to Cafe Augustin. Nick was due to meet us there when he was done at work, and Harry had texted Matt and I informing us that he already had a table and was waiting impatiently for our arrival. When we turned the corner onto the street where the cafe was, I spotted a few photographers hanging out in the vicinity. I guessed that Harry sitting alone in a restaurant wasn’t particularly exciting. I hugged my jacket closer to my body and wished I’d worn a hoodie under it instead of a flannel, but when Matt moved to block me from their view, it was good enough that I went unnoticed.

Harry and I didn’t break eye contact the entire time it took us to get across the restaurant to the table where he sat. I could tell he was working up to a comment about the denim jacket, and I raised a challenging eyebrow in response. No way was anyone going to get me to change my mind about this thing.

He didn’t even greet the others, but went straight for me and slipped his arms around my waist, over the bulky denim. I felt him breath out a sigh of relief against my hair, his mouth brushing against my ear. We’d hugged for too long already, and there was bound to be a grainy photo taken by a fan at another table, but I was too busy inhaling his familiar scent and pressing what I hoped was a discreet kiss to his throat to care. “Hi,” Harry said, finally pulling back.

Maybe it was on purpose and maybe it wasn’t, but the spot next to Harry had been left free, and I felt two smirks and one frown directed at me as I sat down. I turned to Silas, about to say something, when his expression turned disdainful.

“Subtle, you two.” And that was it. If Silas had figured it out, I didn’t doubt that anyone who’d been watching had too. I glanced at Harry and saw him frowning. “If you’re planning on keeping it a secret, maybe don’t do that in public, yeah? Just standing next to each other got you a cover page.”

Things didn’t get any better when Nick arrived in a flurry half an hour later, took one look at Harry and I, and gasped. “When did this happen?”

“What, mate?” Harry asked, as Nick dropped down onto the seat next to Silas and gave him a peck on the cheek.

“Honestly, Harold,” Nick sighed.

But I was confused too, because there was no way Nick could tell we were together by a two-second long glance. Not even our elbows were touching. “Are we doing something different? We got away with it last time.”

“You did a better job of not looking at each other like you want to shag last time,” Jillian supplied, leering at us over the rim of her teacup. Harry’s frown deepened and I resisted the urge to fling a strip of bacon at her.

“Well, I am very offended I wasn’t the first to know,” Nick said, hand to his chest.

“We never actually told anyone anything, you all just figured it out.”

“That’s because you two are shit at sneaking around,” Jillian said.

The subject was dropped after that, and Nick told all of us about what had happened on ‘Call or Delete’ on his show this morning, then went on about every single thing that occurred after that. It included a story about him calling Silas on air, because nobody was excited about having a boyfriend as Nick Grimshaw. Nick admitted to waiting until he was certain their relationship had stabilized before doing it, because he knew Silas was likely to break up with him out of sheer embarrassment if they weren’t fully invested in one another.

While he went on about the call, I thought about Dr. Gustavson’s advice. Even Nick and Silas, who’d been together before and weren’t at all likely to break up again any time soon, had a fragile beginning stage, filled with unpredictability and hesitation. I’d forgotten about this part, because the last time I’d been in the budding stages of a relationship I was still in high school and fell in love in the span of a few days.

And with Harry, I knew things moved faster. We didn’t have time to go slow. There was also a lot more to deal with, to think about, and it had all been compacted into the span of a few weeks. I glanced over at Harry, who was probably the only person at the table actually listening to Nick, and saw the tiredness in his face and how tense his muscles were, and he hadn’t even left for the tour yet. If I was this worried about not knowing how fast or how slow we were supposed to be going, I couldn’t even imagine how he was feeling. From what I’d heard and what Harry had told me himself, his last relationship had been explosive from the start. Ours was a mess of mixed signals and confused minds, of bodies filled with desire and hearts that didn’t know how to want anymore.

“And then you could hear his posh-as-fuck nan in the background talking about scones or the weather or something,” Nick continued, while Silas brooded next to him. “Oh, it was brilliant.”

Three stories later, everyone had long finished their food and Harry was dialling Stan’s number to have him wait nearby just in case the little crowd of fans and photographers outside got too overwhelming. Since Harry had driven here, Jillian and Matt agreed to rides home and Silas and Nick were going to walk back to Nick’s, since he wasn’t far away. There was also the added benefit other people getting into Harry’s car, which would hopefully draw suspicion away from me.

When we were ready to leave, Harry gave his car keys to Matt and said that he’d be right behind us. Then he paid for everyone’s lunch and went out the front, going straight for the cluster of girls — and a few boys — waiting on the sidewalk. They converged on him, practically swallowing him whole, but it drew enough attention that Matt, Jillian, and I made it to the Range Rover with only a few glances in our direction. Matt got into the driver’s seat and Jillian sat next to him, leaving the back for me. He turned the car around and drove back towards the restaurant, slowing as we approached Harry, still surrounded by eager fans snapping pictures.

Harry took a few more photos and then, because cars had started lining up behind us, apologized and jogged over, climbing into the backseat with me. When we’d gotten around the corner and out of sight, I slid over to the middle and wrapped an arm around Harry’s middle, burying my face in the crook of his neck.

“No snogging!” Jillian cried from the front seat.

Matt’s flat was the first stop, so Harry switched seats and drove to Astor. I had him wait in the car, since I just needed to grab a few things, and went in with Jillian. I filled my rucksack with a change of clothes and toiletries, grabbing my laptop and one of the books I’d brought back from New York, mostly on impulse. I also grabbed the ring I’d bought for Harry at the Brooklyn Flea and slid it onto my thumb, the only place on my hand that it fit.

As soon as I was in the car and had buckled my seat belt, Harry slid a hand under my hair and pressed a kiss to my mouth. It was quick, but left me with the certainty that we’d be continuing this later.

Mid-afternoon traffic was horrible, so we ended up inching along in the already long trip up to Hampstead. Harry put on his latest indie rock obsession and drummed on the steering wheel, sunglasses over his eyes and a beanie covering his hair. I reached into my rucksack and pulled out the book I’d brought along, figuring I might as well make this drive more interesting. We were moving, just at an incredibly slow rate.

“What’s that?” Harry asked, as I flipped through the pages with beautiful photos of all the planets in our solar system.

“It’s one of the first books I ever bought on space,” I said, flipping the cover up so he could see it. “You might actually understand this one.”

Harry made a face. “It’s a children’s book.”

“Exactly,” I grinned.

He was looking at it with unabashed curiosity, and I suddenly remembered that moment when he’d walked in while Dad and I were talking about why I was studying Astrophysics, and how I’d never actually found out how much he’d heard.

“Do you remember when we went up to Manchester to see my dad?” I asked. This whole ‘talk to Harry about stuff’ thing was going okay so far. The ultimate goal was to tell him that I was maybe definitely in love with him, but I wasn’t ready for that yet.

“Of course.”

We crawled another few feet forward.

“Okay, what about when I was talking to my dad and you came in and asked us if we wanted tea?”

“Yeah, what about it?”

“How much of that conversation did you hear?”

Harry frowned as he tried to remember, and we progressed a little further down the street. “Dunno. Not much. I think you’d said you were always good at maths, and then something about your dad’s job.” So he’d missed most of it. The important parts, at least. “I guess I’d just assumed you went into Astrophysics cos of your dad.”

“He sort of…inspired it?” I said. Harry glanced over after he drove through an intersection. We weren’t too far from his house now. He turned off the big street at the next corner, and sped up as we went through the narrower, but emptier, side roads.

“What do you mean?” Two months ago, maybe even last month, Harry wouldn’t have asked and actually expected me to answer. But the way he kept on sending quick looks my way, brows wound up high on his forehead and tongue darting across his lips; he was waiting.

I stared out the window as the houses we passed got more and more expensive-looking. “So, you already know that I was born here, and my mom and I moved to New York after her and Dad divorced. Whatever combination of him being super busy with teaching and work and us living across the Atlantic meant that I hardly ever got to see him growing up. Hardly ever meaning, like, four times. He—“

“You only met your dad four times before we went to see him?” Harry echoed, staring wide-eyed at the road ahead, as he sped between a row of black Mercedes parked on either side of us. “Imogen, I had no idea.”

“Yeah, it’s not really…I dunno, I don’t think about it as much anymore. Seeing him those four times was better than nothing, right? Anyway, so whenever I’d see him, he was usually in town to guest lecture or for a conference, stuff like that, and he was always talking about physics and stuff. Mom told me what he did for a living, and of course I had no idea what an Aerospace Engineer was, so I went to the library with the knowledge I did have — that he did something to do with space — and I started reading. I was ten, and I barely knew my dad, and I just wanted something that would connect us, y’know? I thought that the next time he came to visit, we’d finally have something to talk about instead of him being the only one with something to say, and that he’d…be my dad again.”

Harry was quiet for a long time. So long, that we got all the way back to his house, past the gate, and in the front door before he put an arm around my waist (this time beneath my jacket) and a hand on the back of my head, pulling me into him and tangling his fingers in my hair. Sometimes, all you need is somebody hugging you to make you realize that you’re sad about something, when you thought that you’d gotten over it. And I didn’t cry, but I clung to Harry’s lapels with white knuckles and my breathing was shaky against his chest.

“Hopefully I don’t have to remind you that your dad is just few hours away, and he thinks you’re brilliant and absolutely wants to be part of your life. And you haven’t just got him, but you’ve got Mae and Sarah as well. Don’t forget that, okay?” I nodded, slowly feeling my breathing match Harry’s. We lingered in the foyer for five minutes at least, embracing, before Harry stepped back and put his hands on my shoulders. “Right. I’m putting on the kettle.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, feeling lighter already. “God, you’re so English sometimes it hurts.”