Seven:
The Morning After the Day Before

Ruth went to work early, a spring in her step for once. Harry had been very… accomidating… when her alarm clock had gone off at five; she'd almost been late getting out the door, sans coffee, because he'd taken the time to worship every inch of her body with his lips, tongue, and a casual wink of the eye. She hadn't wanted to leave her bed, which was definitely his intention, and she'd had to stop twice to make sure her shoes matched because he kept distracting her after her shower. Bloody man!

Of course, all it did was make her feel loved, cherished – well loved and cherished – and like she wanted to go home after work. Not that she didn't want to go home and spend time with Portia, but there were days when she just felt like she had no real reason to go home. Well, now she had Harry waiting for her, and it felt a little bit more like a home and not a house with her kid in.

The drive to work was the typical hell; it was why she left so early in the morning, to avoid traffic, but it's LA and the freeways are basically a cesspool of insanity and dreadful behavior at any time of day or night, so she just went with the flow. Without coffee. Because Harry had been naughty and got her hot and bothered and begging to come. She really had to make sure he knew that the coffee was non-negotiable; but she had no experience negotiating with terrorists.

Her assistant stumbled into the office around eight with a couple cups of Starbucks in hand, and a yawn on her lips. "Hey," Skye said with a bit of a smile. "You're in early."

"Paperwork," Ruth replied. "I'm buried in it. Seth wants me to look at taking on a couple of new clients this week, so I'm going over the particulars."

Skye wrinkled her nose and set one of the cups down. "Venti double shot mocha caramel macchiato with soy milk and no sugar syrup," she said. "How was your weekend?"

"Lovely," Ruth replied, not even looking up from her paperwork as she reached over for the coffee.

"Seriously or sarcastically?"

Ruth shrugged. "What did you do this weekend?"

"Eh, I went to a party at Miley Cyrus's on Friday and another one at Ben Granger's on Saturday," Skye replied. "Got hit on by a producer who wants my head shot and went home with a drummer."

Ruth shook her head and sighed. "You shouldn't get stuck too far into this lifestyle," she warned. "When you come up for air and you realize everything you've done is shit, you'll wish it all back."

"Smells like regret in the morning," Skye teased. "You have a shit weekend then?"

"I'm not taking calls from Iain Lewis," Ruth said. "And I've already put in a request for his account to be transferred to Norman's pile."

"Oh shit," Skye said, dropping into her chair on the other side of Ruth's desk. "Give me some files to go over and we'll talk. Who dropped whom?"

"I ended it," Ruth said.

"Yeah, but… he's good for you."

"No," she replied, "he's really not."

"Yeah, well, you weren't exactly complaining –"

Ruth looked up at Skye and said, "It's over between us. I've moved on and he needs to grow up and either be with his wife or be an adult and divorce her."

Skye blinked. "Wow. Okay. Um… well, it sounds trite, but he didn't deserve you anyway, Jan."

"No," Ruth replied, "he doesn't." She had a quick rummage through her desk drawer, looking for a highlighter. "Now, I've got several client meetings this morning, so you're going to have to man the phones and handle the small issues, all right?"

Skye sighed and tossed her blonde hair. "Okay, okay, but I've got an audition at three."

"I'll be back well before then," Ruth promised. "That being said, I'll probably be leaving early today."

"Oh? So by seven, then?"

"No, by four. I've got Portia booked in for a couple of things tonight. She's got another clarinet lesson and we were going to go start school shopping." Ruth opened one of the files and steadied the top page with her left hand as she began to highlight.

"Oh my god," Skye yelped.

"What?"

"That rock on your finger –"

Ruth glanced at it and smiled fondly. "Yes, what about it?"

"Is there something you want to tell me?" Skye pulled up a chair and flopped into it. She was the laid back typical blonde haired blue eyed California girl that Ruth was coming to embrace a little bit, and as much as she was nosy, liked to party a bit too much, and so on, she was a good worker and helped Ruth shoulder her burden… most of the time. "Like who this guy is and how long you've known him and whatever because you never said!"

"Are you concerned that I'm making a terrible mistake and rushing things?" Ruth teased.

"Well… yeah."

"I've known him for ages," Ruth admitted softly. "And we're not rushing things at all. His name is Harry."

Skye blinked. "Oh my god, you're not marrying Prince Harry, are you?"

Ruth's mouth dropped open and she stared at Skye in dumb shock. "What?" she spluttered. "Are you completely mad? Not everyone in Britain knows the royal family, Skye. How many times have I told you that?"

"Yes, but –"

"No buts," Ruth said firmly. "You're barmy if you think a boy like that would be interested in an old woman like me."

"So, your boyfriend is not Prince Harry," Skye said. "But he's named Harry. So… what does he do? Is he American, English… Welsh?"

Ruth wrinkled her nose. "How did you jump from English to Welsh?"

"I don't know – because you're not telling me anything?"

Ruth sighed and said, "Will you do some work if I tell you?"

"Maybe." Skye sipped her coffee and grinned. "He's got to be loaded if he gave you that ring. It's Harry Winston, isn't it?"

Ruth gave her a disapproving glare. "Money is far from everything."

"Well, I'd think it would matter a little bit because, I mean, you've never talked about him or anything."

"I have," Ruth said very softly, "but no one really listened." She looked down at her marker, then took a deep breath. "Harry and I have been very much in love for a long time. This isn't anything new, just… the continuation of our relationship where we had to leave it off. But that's neither here nor there. He's a retired civil servant and –"

"What does your daughter think about all of this?" Skye asked. "I mean, surely you've told her and all, right?"

"She's thrilled to bits," Ruth admitted. "She'll get a big brother and sister and nieces and all."

"So he's got kids?"

Ruth shrugged. "Yes," she said. "It doesn't matter. What matters is we love one another very much and… and Portia deserves to have a happy family."

"What about you? You're always thinking about your kid, never about yourself –"

"Harry is Portia's father," Ruth interjected softly. "There's a long story there, but this is the important bit: we love one another very much and that hasn't diminished since we were apart."

Skye's eyes widened. "You're shacking up with Portia's dad?"

"No," Ruth sighed. "I'm marrying him. It's not the same thing."

"Yeah, but – you've never really talked about him or anything, so I mean, is this really the proper thing to do?"

"Sod the bloody proper thing," Ruth said firmly. "We're making a go of it and anyone that objects can kindly go to hell."

"You're so British," Skye said, rolling her eyes. "Okay, so, anyway, you have a board meeting at three, and everything else you know already. Are you going to drink your coffee or what?"

Ruth sighed and picked up the cup.

Portia sat across from Harry at the table, ignoring her cereal and fruit for the longest time. Instead, she just sat there, watching him. The way she cocked her head and peered at him like a curious bird reminded him so much of his mother; she had her grandmother's feisty spirit and flame-colored hair, that much was for certain. She didn't take much after Ruth at all, aside from the shape of her face and her blue eyes. Harry felt momentarily sad that their child hadn't been a carbon-copy of her mother, but he batted it away.

"I don't like bananas," Portia finally said.

Harry blinked, then reached over and carefully removed the unpeeled banana from her placemat. "I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't know." He paused. "I don't like bananas either."

"I love pears," Portia said with a little smile. "Mommy makes them sometimes with a little bit of marmalade and some cheese on top. It's really yummy."

He smiled a little. "She made that for me once as a snack."

Once the offending banana was out of the way, Portia sank into her cereal. She paused for a moment, chewing thoughtfully. "Can I call you Dad?"

"I'd like it if you did," he replied.

"Okay. Dad, do you love my mom?" Portia asked.

"I do, very much so," he said, picking at his toast.

"Then how come you never came to be with us till now?" She looked at him for a long moment, then added, "Is it because you were busy saving the world from the bad guys and didn't want us to get hurt?"

Harry took a couple of deep breaths, then decided to go with it. "Yes, Portia, that's exactly why I didn't come to see you and your mum – I was protecting you," he said softly. "Because I love you both very, very much, and I would be devastated if something were to happen to either of you."

"Do you love Cate like that, too?" Portia asked. "Because if you're her dad and you're my dad, we're sisters and sisters are supposed to look out for each other, aren't they?"

Harry smiled a little. "I do love Catherine, very much. And the girls, too."

"But you never come to visit. What happens when you go back to London? Will you ever come back?"

"Of course I will," Harry said with a sigh. "Eat your cereal – it's probably already mushy."

"I like it mushy," Portia said defiantly; that's when Harry saw the most resemblance to Ruth, in the determined set of the little girl's features. "Mom said you're a good man and you love us but she never told me anything but that your work keeps you away from us. I don't know anything about you."

Harry smiled wanly; there wasn't much to tell. "I'm older than your mum," he said cautiously. "We both worked together a while, and then we fell in love and were separated by people who had no business in our lives. I've spent the years trying to fix that, so we could be together again."

Portia nodded slowly, absorbing the information. Then she took another bite of cereal. After she chewed and swallowed, she said, "How long will you be going back to London, dad?"

"Not more than a month," Harry sighed. "I've got doctor's appointments and then I have to make arrangements with your brother –"

"My brother's name is Graham?"

"It is," Harry said, nodding. "Do you want to see a photo?"

Portia nodded. Harry fished around in his trouser pocket for his wallet and pulled out the little photo window thingie. He had very few photos in it; one of Catherine and Stephen, one of Charlie and one of Gracie, one of Graham and Sarah, and in the very back, one of Ruth – it was a copy of the black and white photo from her personnel file, but it was something. He handed the whole thing over to Portia, who smiled. "These are good," she said cheerfully. "Is that Graham?"

"It is," Harry said.

"And who's she?"

"That's Sarah – Graham's girlfriend."

Portia got to the picture at the back and smiled. "Mom looks so young there," she said quietly.

"She was," Harry added softly. "But the world has been hard for her."

"It'll be better now that you're here," Portia said with a smile. "She missed you all the time. Really bad."

"I missed her, too," Harry assured her.

Portia said, "I'll be right back." She ran off, but came back a couple of minutes later, and pressed the photo window into Harry's hand. "It's all better now," she promised. "Look!"

Harry flipped through the pictures, smiling as he came to Portia's most recent school photo and a couple of photo booth pictures of her and Ruth. "Portia, don't you want to keep these?"

"No, they're for you," Portia said. "So you don't forget us."

"I could never forget you," Harry said, sweeping her into a hug. "Not ever, kiddo."

Portia smiled. "That's good, then."

Ruth shoved the last box of her things from the office into the back seat of the car. Of course, the board and the partners had seen fit to fire her – albeit with a rather generous severance package – after Iain Lewis had made his complaints against her. Bastard. Ruddy, stupid arsehole.

At least she could go home and have that early night she'd wanted… for once. Only once, though, because the job search would have to start first thing in the morning. And she'd have to call Joe Gregory and inform him that, seeing as how she was no longer employed with the firm, he would probably not want her to be his Emmy date. Especially since the tabloids would have hold of everything by the next morning.

Ruth climbed into the car and slammed the door shut before leaning against the wheel. "Please let Harry still be there when I get home," she breathed to no one in particular. "Please don't let him leave me and take our girl." She sat up, blinking back angry, scared, hot tears, and started the car.

By the time she got home, she'd worked herself up into a state, thinking that Harry would just take Portia and hop on a plane back to Heathrow. Once she got inside and heard giggling and her daughter's voice saying, "Daaaaaad, you can't do that – it's cheating!", and Harry's protest of, "How is it cheating if it's in the rules?" she knew that everything might not be so bleak as all that.

She stopped in the doorway, watching Harry and Catherine playing Monopoly with the girls, and sighed softly. It was touchingly domestic, the scene before her, but she didn't… couldn't… read too much into it. She still had to be on the ready for Harry to realize that she wasn't worth it, that this wasn't worth it…

"Mom!" Portia exclaimed gleefully. "You're home early!"

"I am," Ruth replied. "Do you want to have tacos for dinner tonight, love?"

"Yes, please – can we all have tacos?" Portia asked.

"But we're having hamburgers," Gracie protested.

"We can have both," Catherine said. "Don't you want to have supper with Jan and Portia?"

Gracie sighed and said, "I guess so."

"What's wrong?" Harry asked.

"I just… it's not fair. Portia's your little girl and you go off and forget us and don't spend time with us now," Gracie muttered quickly.

"That's not going to happen," Harry promised, giving her a hug. "We'll get this all figured out, I promise."

"Dad, if you want to have burgers with them, you can," Portia said. "Mom and I go out for tacos."

"I thought we could have tacos here," Ruth said, "at home. We can make them."

Portia looked back over at her and said, "Mom, what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," Ruth lied, "just I think we should stay in tonight. We could have tacos and burgers here at home and just… just be a happy family for one night."

Catherine was eyeing her oddly, so Ruth looked away. "Yes, we could," Harry agreed. "Or we could all go out for tacos tonight and have burgers tomorrow night."

"Okay," Gracie said.

"Sounds good to me," Charlie added, finally looking up from her property cards. "Mom, can we go to the library tomorrow?"

"Sure," Catherine agreed readily.

Ruth said, "Go on, keep playing. I'll just be in the kitchen."

She retreated to the kitchen and got down the tequila. Harry interrupted her in the middle of her third shot. "Ruth…"

"Don't," she said, putting the bottle away again. "Don't lecture me, don't say a word, Harry."

"What happened?"

"Iain Lewis terminated his contract," she said, her voice cracking. "And he lodged a complaint against me to the partners, who took it to the board… and I got fired. I got fired, Harry. Fired. What am I going to do? I've got savings, but not enough to live off of for long. I've got to cut a check for Portia's clarinet lessons tonight and I don't know what's going to happen, Harry. I think I deserve a bloody drink – or five."

She must have looked absolutely miserable because he came over and embraced her so quickly she didn't know which way was up. And she felt so stupid for her dismal thoughts in the car; of course he wouldn't abandon her. He was decent and honorable, unlike her.

"We'll figure it out," he said softly. "We'll figure it out."

She leaned into him, buried her face in his shoulder, and just let it all out – all the tears, all the pain, all the bullshit she'd been holding back for so long. He just held her, not judging, just accepting. Just accepting that she was only human.

END PART SEVEN