Tying You To Me

Chapter Ten: 2020

February 2020

"Why are your hands so sweaty?" Harry yelped as he wiped his own palm on his pajama pants.

"Because I'm nervous."

"Why?"

"Because I'm meeting your mom," Quinn exclaimed.

"So?" Harry looked at her blankly. "She's just my mum."

Quinn shot him a confused look. "Exactly, Harry. She's your mother. Which means I need to impress her. If the two of us don't hit it off it's going to be hell. Because I know how close you all are and if she hates me what does that mean for us? I mean –"

Harry leaned across the breakfast table and cut Quinn off with a kiss. "Stop worrying and creating nightmare scenarios that aren't going to happen. My mum knows all about you and she loves you already."

"What if she's just telling you that? Like reverse psychology or something?"

"Quinn!"

She took a sip of her coffee as Harry looked at her.

"It's going to be fine," he said softly. "I promise you. She's not going to bite you."

"Well that's a relief."

"Gemma's the biter."

Quinn rolled her eyes as she stood to take the breakfast dishes to the sink, Harry's cackle echoing off of the walls.

She'd arrived in London late last night and while she'd yawned as she made her way through Heathrow, navigating the baggage claim and the pick-up area, Harry had boundless energy as he met her and escorted her to the car. He didn't let go of her hand as he drove through the quiet streets pointing out different landmarks and mentioning places he wanted to take her over the next couple of weeks.

Quinn retained approximately none of what Harry was saying and the combination of the rocking of the car and his soothing voice lulled her to sleep. It didn't seem like Harry's house was that far from the airport – though Quinn really had no sense of time or direction in the unfamiliar city – but she stirred awake sooner than she would have liked when they pulled into Harry's house, a large historical home that didn't look out of place in the neighborhood. She'd seen his homes in New York and LA, so visiting his London dwelling shouldn't have felt like a monumental occasion, but for some reason, it did. And when Harry unlocked the door and ushered Quinn inside she understood why.

For the first time, Quinn wasn't seeing his house. She was seeing his home.

While the buildings she'd seen in the other cities were sterile and empty, this one was filled to the brim with clutter and ephemera that Harry had collected over the years. Posters for bands and films, pictures of his family, stacks of books and records on shelves and on the floor. Art – with no discernable signature style – placed haphazardly around the room. And it wasn't only stuff. The interior design added to the chaos. Vibrant colors, textures, and prints – it was hard for the eyes to focus and with the added challenge of her foggy brain Quinn was overwhelmed and slowly followed Harry to his bedroom.

He placed her suitcase on a rack and took her carry-on from her hand. "Figured you'd want to get cleaned up and then we could head to bed?"

Quinn nodded, dazed, but dutifully shuffled off in the direction of the master bath where she quickly showered and brushed her teeth before climbing into bed with Harry.

"My mum's coming into town tomorrow," he said as she lay under his arm. "I thought we could do lunch? And maybe see her again later on in your trip if schedules align."