Chapter Thirty-Three

Monday 1st July

When did he call you?

Nikki had been glad of her natural causes. The elderly gentleman she'd spent most of the morning with her hands inside had suffered nothing more than a heart attack. The police had their suspicions, but there was nothing suspicious about the evidence she'd found and Nikki was glad. She had been able to work undistracted and in silence and with no nasty surprises for once.

It hadn't stopped her mind from wandering though.

Harry was back, and yet even in the few hours she had spent with him she could see a difference. There was something more about him, not more American… but more…. She wasn't sure, it wasn't more accomplished, he'd always been that, nor better mannered; he'd always been the perfect gentleman, too much of a gentleman at times she thought with regret.

He was more independent, is that what it was? He was certainly more self-assured. Time was if she'd yelled at him to get out, he'd have yelled back or stomped off like a teenager. Yesterday he had stood his ground and left on his own terms. He seemed to have a clear purpose and direction to his life now whereas before he'd always seemed slightly lost; someone that required her pity. Not anymore; this Harry was stronger, more dynamic and prepared to go after the things he wanted. She liked the change and couldn't help a small smile appearing on her lips, despite her tiredness. But the smile didn't last, the pain he had caused due to his absence at Leo's funeral consumed it as quickly as it appeared.

But then there was his collapse outside the mini Tesco. He may have acquired a North American confidence but he hadn't acquired their brashness and heartlessness. He was almost in tears over the loss of a take-away, although just as he had, she had realised his breakdown wasn't anything to do with megalomaniacal empire building supermarkets. The change had just highlighted another loss he hadn't wished to experience. He must still felt loss keenly, if it had such an effect on him. He'd not changed that much. But she couldn't understand why he hadn't come back earlier.

Harry had gone to the US he'd claimed because she'd pushed him away and there was no way he could achieve what he wanted to achieve (if he even knew what that was and frankly she doubted he did at the time) stuck in the Lyell for the rest of his life. He'd moved to give her the space to find someone worthy of her, someone who could love her the way he'd said he wanted to but at the time never could. He'd moved to get on with his life and he had. So why had he come back? And why now?

She'd been cruel to him yesterday. He had accepted her apology when they'd had dinner together that evening but her behaviour had been awful. She knew it was petty wanting to make him suffer just as she had done but she couldn't help herself. It was the only way she knew how to be strong, to fight back. She'd had to do it her whole life and she would not be a doormat, he wasn't going to march back into her life and walk all over her. He'd left, it had been his choice and they'd both moved on. But that didn't mean she couldn't be cordial to him.

She'd take his bags over to Leo's this evening and see how he was. She was glad to see him despite the anger he provoked, the anger had only been part of her life for a couple of months, Harry had been part of her life for years. He'd said he wanted her help clearing Leo's house. She'd been there once on her own and hated it. Harry wouldn't like it any more than she did. Maybe she should go?

That didn't mean that she had forgiven him for the funeral though. He'd apologised but it wasn't enough.

How could he have missed it?

When he had told her his reason for returning in the restaurant yesterday, he could have cited trouble at NYU, homesickness, the opportunity to start his own business. But he hadn't said any of those.

"I wanted to be here with you," had been his answer. He'd not deflected the question. He'd not made a joke, he'd not changed the subject. He wanted to be here with her. She was the one who had deliberately misconstrued it.

So if that was true why hadn't he been there when she needed him? She was just so angry still and until his return there had been no one to be angry with.

"You alright?" Jack asked as he watched her rub her eyes and stare at her computer.

"Hmm, me?" Nikki replied.

"I'm not seeing anyone else in that chair I'm asking?" Jack retorted. "Harry did a good job," he added touching the wound over his eye.

"You can't tell that 'til the swellings gone down."

"So, are you going to see him?" Jack asked.

She wondered how Jack knew where her mind had been wandering to. "Do I need your permission?" Nikki looked across at her co-worker. What was it about her male colleagues at the Lyell? She wondered if Leo had written it into their contracts: 'look out for Nikki.' With Harry and Leo gone the gauntlet had fallen to Jack.

"No, I was just asking. Just being friendly."

"When did he call you?"

"Who?"

"Harry,"

"When did Harry call me?"

"Yes, how long ago did Harry call you about this?"

"About what?"

"I know he told you to leave the chocolate. How long ago was it?"

"A while ago, after we got back, I don't really remember too well." Jack blustered; he knew she could tell he was lying.

"So right from the start then?"

"Pretty much," Jack admitted. So the gauntlet hadn't really been passed on. Jack putting milk in her fridge, leaving her chocolate bars and driving her about was still all Harry's doing. It was all Harry's doing, he was just doing it the only way he could.

"Thanks," Nikki said.

"What for?"

"Looking out for me, doing what Harry asked. Not punching him in the face yesterday…"

"I wasn't even close to…" Jack began but Nikki held her hand up.

"I'm going home, I've done all I need to," she said and shut down her computer.

"Say thanks to Harry for me," Jack called out as she walked out of the office door.

##

Her idea had been for a shower and change her clothes before going out again, she'd forgotten all about the letter Harry had supposedly written. But there it was waiting for her when she got home, postmarked from the week before. Everything was in it, a long apology and his reasons for missing the funeral, a summary of Leo's last wishes, all the events that had conspired to make up Harry's mind to leave NYU, an outline of what he planned to do in London and a newspaper cutting of Jorge's Vegas opening night. He'd even written that he hoped over time that they would be able to repair their damaged relationship.

She'd told him that weekend in New York that she didn't like being a mind reader and he had taken it to heart. It was a five page manifesto on what he wanted from his new business and how much he wanted her to be part of his life again.

Her tears seemed endless. Not a day had gone by since she had been in Afghanistan where she hadn't spent some portion of it crying but somehow today the tears felt different. There was a touch of relief, a newfound hope where hope had never been before. She wasn't an idiot she knew it would take them time to be rebuild their shattered relationship. But the single fact that there was a forward, there was a future and that she had something to hope for planted some grain of trust, a tiny speck of love that perhaps could be nurtured back to life and strength.

She wasn't ready today. Not yet, but she would at least take Harry his bags.

She loaded them into her car, sat in the driver's seat with key in hand and then had second thoughts.

She couldn't go over to Leo's, she couldn't.

She couldn't spend the evening with Harry; she wasn't ready.

She was frightened.

She was so tired.

She turned the key in the ignition and set off.

##

Harry didn't answer the doorbell and so it was with relief that she used the Lyell key to let herself in and leave his bags in the hallway.

It would be obvious that she had been there and dropped off his bags. Maybe he'd gone back to his mother's? She was driving him around today. She slipped quietly into the kitchen, thinking she'd leave him a note when she heard a noise from the sitting room.

"Harry?" she called quietly.

She checked her watch, it was 6:15 on a July evening. It was hardly burgling prime time.

"Harry?" she called again as she carefully peered around the door.

Harry was fast asleep in an armchair; one hand drooped over the edge, his head back and snoring. She couldn't help but give a small chuckle.

"Mum's that you?" Harry slurred in his sleep.

"No, it's Nikki, I dropped off your bags."

"Hmm, Nikki," he mumbled again but still without properly waking. "I like Nikki. Must get her to like me again," he shifted in the chair.

"Wouldn't you be more comfortable in the bed?"

"Nikki's not in my bed," he replied.

It was clear Harry wasn't going to wake up; she knew how precious sleep was and so was loathe to wake him. She didn't know what to say to him anyway. She thought she'd better leave a note but she wasn't sure what to say there. 'I left your bags for you,' that would be obvious; he would have walked past them on the way to the kitchen. Her pen hovered over the paper and instead she wrote: 'I got your letter' and let herself out.

In all that had happened in the past year neither of them suspected that by going away to move on and find something new, that Harry himself would move on and become something new. And that this new thing was the man that Harry had always wanted to be and the man that Nikki had always wanted.


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