Ruth
I always seem to forget how immediate Harry is. When he's looking at me, and I have all of his attention, it's disconcerting. Almost intimidating and the words I had on the tip of my tongue slip away in the face of those hazel eyes, all of his focus on me. Instead I reach for the forms Harry has to sign so I can go to the Home Office. He sees them and recognises them for what they are, and I see the openness in his eyes vanish. I hadn't noticed it was there until it disappeared, and he's turned into the Harry of the grid again.
"Of course," he says, voice carefully masked of any emotion he might betray. He moves to take hold of the forms but I don't let go of them.
"Harry," I say, the tone of my voice making him look at me again. "You know when I said this afternoon… Tell me to stay and I will?" I wait for him to nod, and I know that he won't interrupt me. I take a deep breath, very aware that what I'm about to say will change our… well, relationship isn't exactly the right word. "That was the moment I wanted you to tell me to stay. I wanted more than anything in the world for you to say that you couldn't bear it if we didn't work together, if we didn't see each other every day." I sigh, unable to read the look in his eyes. I'm not sure I want to either and I look down at my hands. Though I'm on my third rather large glass of wine of the night, I haven't drunk nearly enough to be ready for this conversation that I started. It was enough alcohol to get me in a taxi and ring the doorbell, but not enough for this. I hate how small my voice has become but I can't stop now. "I just... wanted you to ask me to stay with you."
"Look at me Ruth," he says, his voice quiet but seductive. I take a moment before I do. "I am not going to beg you to stay with me on the grid." It feels as if my heart has sunk through the floor at those words, because it's exactly what I want him to do. I'd love for him to want me around him all the time, and even better for him to actually form the words and tell me so. "I don't want you to stay on the grid because I'm asking you to. I don't want you in section D because you feel as if you should be there, or because of pity. I don't want to be the one who holds back your career and then have you resent me for it at some point in the future." He sighs and looks at me intensely, in a way that takes my breath away. "Of course I don't want you to leave Thames House. The thought of having to go to work and not see you…" he shakes his head as if he can't form the words. "But I won't hold you back, Ruth."
I nod and drain my glass in one. I can see his point of view, but half of me, the more sensitive half, still feels as if he won't fight for me. "You wanted me to ask you to stay," he says as if finally absorbing the words. He gets up for the wine bottle and I watch avidly as his muscles move under the thin material of his shirt. The urge to run my hands over his back is strong, but it passes as he turns and fills my glass up.
"Yes, I did want that" I say. "But then there's Elena and… I wonder why I'm even surprised." There, I've done it. I've mentioned the name I'm so afraid of. So afraid of what it means for us.
"I'm not in love with her," he says, quietly but with a certainty in his voice that surprises me. "I know you think I am, but I'm not. I find it… painful to associate with her, which is part of the reason I'm not letting you in. It's difficult for me to confront the man I was thirty years ago. I'm not proud of who I used to be and Elena and Sasha are constant reminders of that and I feel incredibly guilty. I don't want to close down around you." He closes his eyes and looks almost in pain.
"Do you know how much hurt you could have saved me if you had simply told me you weren't in love with her?" I ask. I am hurt, and I've been hurting for weeks. "All it would have taken is one honest sentence from you and I would never have felt like this."
"How do you feel?" he asks, his hazel eyes boring into mine. When I don't answer right away, he continues. "If I'm being honest tonight, so are you."
I gather my thoughts before I speak, wanting to get this right. "I feel like I'm simply… convenient," I say. "That you only ever paid me any attention because I was there and you felt attracted to me. Then I feel like a fool for having ever thought it went deeper than that."
"I proposed to you!" he explodes. We had been speaking quietly and the loudness startles me. His eyes have gone dark and I know I've made him angry with my words. But it's the truth and it is exactly how I feel. His proposal feels a long time ago and it's a memory I attempt to block out because it was awful. Both the way he did it and how badly I reacted. I still flinch away from how unnecessarily harsh I was on the Thames House roof a couple of days afterwards. I hadn't meant it the way it sounded. "If that doesn't tell you how I feel about you, what will?" he asks.
"Harry, yes. You asked me to marry you," I say, trying to keep hold of my temper. "You never once said how you felt, you asked me at a funeral for Christ's sake. And maybe Ros's funeral didn't make you emotional like I said, but it did make me emotional! God, Harry, do you think I wanted you to propose at a funeral? Of course I didn't. Out of all the occasions I'd ever imagined, that wasn't one of them. And I wasn't brave enough to say yes and that haunts me every day." My eyes are stinging with tears but the last thing I want to do right now is cry. I have to hold it together, I didn't come over to Harry's to fall apart. This is a conversation that's been long overdue between us, it's too important to cry over. I blink the tears away and that's when his hand touches mine, taking hold of my fingers. It's the first time we've touched since I entered his house. Actually, it's the first time we've touched in months. His warm touch on my hand is gentle and comforting and it sends the tears rolling down my face before I can stop them.
I'm finding these first person chapters both enjoyable and draining to write! I'll update when I can. Thanks for reading and especially reviewing.