Three:
First Light

Harry thought he'd died and gone to heaven. He wasn't particularly religious – hell, he didn't believe that there was a god of any persuasion after some of the things he'd seen in his lifetime – but having Ruth tangled up in his arms again was the closest thing a non-repentant sinner would ever get to heaven. He listened to the sounds of her breathing, her deep sleep, and he smiled as he held her on the rickety futon.

He glanced at his watch and frowned. "Ruth," he whispered. "Wake up – it's almost six. I need to get back to Catherine's."

"No, don't go," Ruth mumbled sleepily, tightening her hold on him. "Stay with me."

"I'm meant to be over there," he teased. "I think my daughter might have a few choice words about my running over to fuck the neighbor."

Ruth pouted and looked at him with sleepy eyes. "Will you come back tonight?" she murmured.

"Ruth…"

"Harry…"

He sighed and kissed her gently. "I've already done enough damage, haven't I?"

She wasn't letting him go; he really wanted to get back to the house before Catherine noticed he was gone and sent out a search party. And besides, they'd all be together again in a few hours for the trip to the Zoo, wouldn't they?

"I'm the one that's done the damage," she said softly. "Go back to Cate's… we'll talk later. Maybe after Portia goes to bed."

He sighed and kissed her gently before he got to his feet and went in search of his clothes. "Where's your loo?" Harry asked.

"Just across the hall," she murmured.

When he emerged from the bathroom, feeling much better after relieving his bladder, she was in the hallway, waiting. "Hey," she said very softly.

He leaned in and kissed her. "Hey yourself," he replied in an equally hushed tone. "I'm here for two weeks. We'll unpick this together."

She sighed and murmured, "Please don't tell Portia that you're her dad. It will only lead to heartbreak when you go back to London."

He frowned; he'd honestly thought that she'd not be so pessimistic –

"Oh, don't give me that look," she sighed. "I can't just up and jump ship on my job, Harry. I'm top level with the firm now, just behind the partners. Why do you think I'm never here? Why do you think I feel so guilty when Portia wants me home and I can't be? You telling her that you're her dad will only make it worse. Then I have to worry about her getting on a plane and running away to see you." Her face crumpled and she began to cry. "God, why couldn't it be simpler?" she whimpered.

He hugged her tightly to him and tried to soothe her tears. Harry would never admit it aloud, but if she asked him to move his things across the ocean and the entirety of the North American continent in order to be with her and Portia, he would do it in a heartbeat. "We'll unpick it," he promised. "I'll get a bottle of wine or two and we'll just… talk."

"A bottle or two of wine and I'll be doing a hell of a lot more than talking," Ruth admitted, blushing. "Are you going to tell Cate?"

He shrugged; how could he make his daughter understand the complicated situation without causing anyone else more than mild distress? "I might, but I'll have to figure out how to do it."

She leaned in and kissed him, a tender, loving, passionate kiss. A kiss that held promise and devotion within it…

There was a shuffling noise, then Portia said, "Scuze me, I gotta potty." She didn't even seem to register that Harry was there, so he exhaled in relief and kissed the tip of Ruth's nose.

"That was a little too close for comfort," he whispered once Portia was in the bathroom. "I'll go now."

Ruth pressed a gentle kiss to his lips and whispered, "I'll see you later."

With that, he pulled away; he wanted nothing more than to stay with her, be with her… but it was too much, too soon. He went outside the back way and gathered his iPad and the cold mug of coffee before he let himself back into Catherine's house.

"You snuck out this morning," Catherine said.

"I couldn't sleep," Harry admitted. "I'm too far off Greenwich." He sipped his coffee. "Your neighbor, Janet, couldn't sleep either. We had a nice discussion – politics and the like."

Catherine made a face. "Trust you to chat a lady up with talk of politics," she grumbled. "She's seeing Iain Lewis, you know… he's from that show – bit part, really… um… Hope Eternal. That's the one. He's a bit of a twat, though. I'd like to show him a good what-for, taking advantage like he does. Just because Janet's good at what she does is no reason for him to beg her to clean up his image." She sipped her coffee and sighed. "I'm clearly too invested in her happiness, since I don't get up to much of my own these days."

Harry grunted something noncommittal. Gracie came into the kitchen and smiled up at him. "Hi," she chirped. "Can I sit with you and eat breakfast, Grandpa?"

"Of course, Gracie," Harry said, helping her up onto his lap. "There, that's better, isn't it? What do you want for breakfast?"

"I've got yoghurt and granola," Catherine said. "You need your energy for walking around the Zoo."

"Yoghurt and granola," Gracie said automatically. She was still young enough and sweet enough to be compliant; give her a couple of years, though, and she'd be as contrary and manic as her sister.

"So," Catherine said as she gathered their breakfasts together, "what do you think of Janet, then?"

"Catherine, don't play matchmaker," Harry warned. "It rarely ends well."

"I wasn't! I was just… you know…"

"Matchmaking. Leave it be," he instructed brusquely.

"Yeah, well, it's not as if you've been happy in years," she scoffed. "And you don't talk about the woman that did your bloody head in."

Gracie looked up at him. "Grandpa's head looks fine to me," she said, smiling a little.

Catherine scowled. "Yeah, well, your grandpa isn't supposed to be a grumpy old codger, now, is he? He's supposed to be happy."

Harry sighed. "I am happy. Within limitations."

"You're an idiot," Catherine snorted.

Maybe he was; maybe he was a bit touched for thinking that Ruth would still care for him so much that she'd be willing to give it another go. Maybe his heart was running away with his head… but he couldn't let go of the dream. Not now.

Ruth set a bowl of cereal and fruit down in front of Portia. Portia looked at it and picked at it. "Oh, come on, that's your favorite – what's wrong?"

"Was Iain here last night?" Portia asked. "After you told me you weren't gonna see him again?"

"No," Ruth said. At least that much was honest. "No, Iain was not here."

"You were kissing somebody in the hall when I got up to go pee. If it wasn't Iain, who was it? You're not just supposed to go around kissing people, mom." The little girl was clearly upset, and Ruth couldn't blame her much.

She took a deep breath, then exhaled. "Harry couldn't sleep and he came over for a while."

Portia blinked and then a frown came across her lips. "You can't just go kissing other people's grandpas!"

Ruth blushed. She sighed. "Portia… when I said that Harry and I knew each other before…"

"You had sex," Portia said bluntly. "I get that now. Thanks, mom, for being so transparent about the nature of your relationship. But that's no reason to have sex with him now, is it? You just had sex with Iain two nights ago. I heard it. Aren't you afraid people will think you're slutty?"

Ruth's mouth was set into a hard line. She didn't want to have this discussion with her ten year old daughter. She didn't want to have this discussion with anyone. "Sod what other people think," she finally managed to say. "I've been unhappy for a long time."

Portia nodded.

"If sleeping with Harry makes me happy, then sod everyone else." She shifted her gaze and looked at her child. "We didn't, but if it made me happy – and him besides – we would."

Portia's brows drew together as she ingested that information. She sighed. "You shouldn't let boys take advantage of you, mom."

Ruth smiled sadly. "Yes, well… if there's one person who would never take advantage, it would be Harry. Now, eat your breakfast."

"I've got the cooler of water and the picnic lunches in my boot," Ruth said cheerfully as they loaded up for the day.

Catherine smiled over and said, "Portia wants to ride with me and the girls. Dad has requested to ride with you."

Ruth stifled a sigh. "Ah, yes, well… we had a rather scintillating conversation early this morning, and I rather left him off because I was falling asleep. He probably just wants to continue it."

"Yes," Harry said near her ear, "yes, I rather would."

She jumped near unto a mile. "You can't sneak up on people like that!"

Catherine laughed and said to the kids, "All aboard, then – get in, find your seats, and get those seatbelts on."

As soon as her back was turned and she was paying attention to the kids, Harry leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to Ruth's neck. It was feather-light and barely there, but it sent shivers down her spine. She was honestly a bit frightened about where this could lead – it was already into the realm of sneaking around, spying, lying…

Her phone rang and she reached for it automatically. "Janet Williams," she said quickly.

"Hello, Jan," Iain said, his voice smooth and silky.

"Oh, hello… look, I'm about to go somewhere – can I call you back? Later." Never.

"Well, I've got a little suite booked for tonight, and a couple of bottles of wine… you could just… arrive."

Ruth took a deep breath, swallowed hard, then said, "Iain, this – you and me – it's not working."

"It's working just fine."

"No, it's not. Please don't call me again."

"You can't just brush me off, Janet –"

"Oh, please," she huffed. "I've never brushed you off. I'm simply stating a fact that I would prefer it if you wouldn't call me again. You can go back to your wife and entertain her now with your magical singing wang – and spend your money on her." She hung up the phone and glanced over at Harry, who looked more than slightly smug – at the thought that he'd broken them up? "Oh, don't you start with me," Ruth sighed. "Yes, I was fucking a married man. Everyone does in this hellhole."

"I wasn't going to say anything," Harry said. They watched the kids settle into Catherine's car and for her to give them the thumbs' up. Once she wasn't paying attention again, he took Ruth's hand for a brief moment, squeezing it. Then he was walking around the car to get in on the passenger side. "Bloody American cars. You lot are all backwards and drive on the wrong side of the road."

Ruth smiled. Maybe she'd be able to undo his disdain for her adopted country before he flew back to London. Maybe she'd be able to convince him to stay.

Such a finite idea made her heart clench; she wanted it, wanted him, couldn't bear to be without him now… god, she was a mess. A hot mess.

END PART THREE