love, charlie

when harry met rory

-

Every muscle in Charlie's body is screaming at her. She is tired, no doubt about it, but she can't rest yet. Not when toys are still scattered all around the living room floor from that afternoon's tummy time. Not when the pile of clean laundry demanding to get folded just grows bigger and bigger every day. Not when she is running low on frozen breast milk and still needs to pump a good couple of millilitres.

She leans back against the couch, letting her head tilt back and her eyes close momentarily. It'll just be a little rest, then she'll sit back up and get to tidying. Just as she is about to slip into unconsciousness, harsh raps on the door causes her to jolt up with alarm.

Panic creeps up her neck as she eyes the door cautiously. It is nearing 11pm and she isn't expecting anyone. So, who the hell is demanding to be let in? Holding her breath and tiptoeing her way to the door, she slowly looks through the peep hole hoping that her fear is unfounded.

When she makes out who it is, she releases the breath she was holding and immediately undoes the chain on the door.

"Harry? What's happening?"

Behind the door is Harry, her best friend that she hasn't seen in over a year because he was busy touring and making movies while she dropped to the bottom of the food chain by becoming a single mother. Instead of the joyful reunion she envisioned that they would have at his welcome home dinner happening tomorrow, they each remain on either side of the door, silently looking at each other with furrowed brows (although hers connoted confusion while Harry looked furious).

"I -," he starts before pausing to take another deep breath. "Can I come in?"

With a nod, Charlie steps to the side letting him in, re-chaining the door under the assumption that Harry would just stay over like he usually would this late. Right as they were about to enter the living room she freezes on the spot, remembering the mess that is still there. As if reading her mind, Harry stops and turns to face her with an expectant raised eyebrow.

"Before we sit down is there something you want to tell me?"

"Uh ... well I, um."

"Something that might have happened while I was away?" he asks through a clenched jaw.

Charlie starts picking her fingers nervously. "No. Why don't we go up to my room because -"

Before she could finish, he whips around and charges into her living room. He pauses, eyes scanning the room, taking in everything. Then, he turns to face her with a glare that is almost murderous.

"What's all this then? Babysitting?"

She suddenly can't breathe.

"Harry this isn't what it looks like."

"Tell me!" he shouts with fists clenched tightly by his side.

At the suddenly raising of his voice Charlie flinches and squeezes her eyes shut. When she does open her eyes, she can't bring them to look at the hurt etched all over his features, so they remain glued to the floor. He lets out a deep breath and runs his hands over his face.

"Sorry for yelling, I shouldn't have raised my voice," he mumbles.

Neither of them make eye contact.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you," she whispers shakily after a beat of silence.

"So, it's true?"

She nods, eyes still trained on her feet, ashamed to look him in the eye. They had never kept secrets, especially not something this big. She hurt him and she knows it.