trepidation | h.s

part nineteen

Lydia Styles

It's been a week since Harry met with Dr. Richardson, and he had another session today.

He's been doing rather well. I've noticed a change in his demeanor, a good one. I think this is really helping and I'm glad that he decided to do it. 

He's being more open with his feelings, and that's really important to me. And I can tell that he's really actually trying to apply the tips Richardson has given him to his everyday life. I miss Harry—the Harry I fell in love with. I'm glad I'm getting him back.

We drove to the appointment together, we were both in really good moods today. Harry held my hand in his for the whole drive to the health centre. Luckily, there was a small grocery store right next to this health centre. I had some things to grab because Niall's birthday is coming up quickly, and this way I can multitask while waiting for Harry. Niall was nice enough to babysit Daisy for the hour.

I scope the aisles of the small store. I've never been in this one before, so I don't know where anything is.

I only needed a few things, like plastic cups and snacks for Niall's party. It was just going to be a small one between our close friend group—nothing huge.

Niall was turning 28, which is crazy to think about. We were all so young when we met. He's still the same party animal character that he was when I met him. I don't think that will ever change.

Alone with my thoughts, I walk into one end of an aisle, but I notice someone else walk through the other end.

I immediately recognized the dark hair and the chiseled structure of his face. He was someone I'd seen before, but I couldn't put a name to his face.

"Lydia?" he says my name, making eye contact with me and recognizing me immediately. He walks a bit closer. "It's Damien, from the ball."

Right.

I give him as polite of a smile as I can, but I was really confused as to what he was doing here.

We met him back in Italy, so what's he doing in this small city? Especially at a small grocery store like this?

"What are you doing here?" I ask nicely, tilting my head.

"I moved here months ago." he chuckles like the answer was supposed to be obvious. "But I could ask you the same thing."

"I've lived here my whole life." I tell him honestly. He just smirks a little as he looks down at me, his hands folded neatly behind his back.

"Small word, I suppose." he smiles at me.

Although he wasn't in a fancy suit like he was back in Venice, he still appeared very tidy and well kept. His hair was gelled and he wore corduroy pants with a black dress shirt. He just looked overall professional and classy.

"How's that husband of yours?" he asks me as he averts his eyes to the shelf.

"Erm—" I hesitate, not expecting the question. "He's good, we're good. We've been great." I spew out the first words that came to my head.

Damien grabs a box of crackers, and opens it right here in the aisle. He reaches in and grabs one, popping it in his mouth as he nods in response to me.

"Good to hear." he says. He keeps a keen eye on me. He had a naturally confident way about him—just the way he carried himself. "I'll pay for these, don't worry." he gestures to the open box of crackers.

I clear my throat. "So how's that business going?" I ask him. I was just trying to make small talk at this point because I didn't want us to stand here in awkward silence.