One Journey, the Final

Chapter 25:

    We both scrambled up to our feet. I would've ran out the door, and flew all the way back to America, if it weren't for Harry's tight grip on my hand. I felt my cheeks burn. She looked from him to me, then me to him. Then she glanced at our grasp, and saw the ring. I would've died right there. Her sweet brown eyes bore into mine. And the sweetness in them seemed to be sickly sweet. I awkwardly smiled, trying to seem innocent.

         "Mum, remember I told you about my fiancee--" Harry started to say.

         "The one that dropped you like a cold fish while touring?" she asked, her accent as lovely as herself.

         "Mum. This is Annabel Price," he said. Her eyes narrowed, and she spat out,

         “Yes I remember her. I saw her on Yahoo! or something like that. Well. You look much more…clean.” I stared at my feet. I couldn’t take her deadly gaze. “Well. Just clean up after yourselves.” She finally decided, tugging at her floral bathrobe as she sauntered back upstairs. I released my breath, my lungs burning. I hadn’t even realized I’d been holding it. Harry squeezed my hand. I returned the favor. I heard him snicker, and he kissed my cheek.

                “I suppose you’re hungry,” he whispered, his breath tickling my neck. I quickly nodded, my stomach now aware of the malnutrition. He led me to their yellow kitchen. Yellow cabinets, white countertops, much different to the usual rainy England weather.

                “What would you like?” he asked, his head in the refrigerator. He grabbed out eggs, marmalade, English muffins, cereals, and milk. I had quite a variety to choose from.

                “I would take you out, but I think the storms a little too strong right now,” he asked, displaying the food. I happily pointed to the English muffin.

               "Jam or butter?"

              "Jam." I had forgotten that Harry was actually a pretty good cook. I guess all that time spent working in a bakery paid off, because I had never seen such a beautiful display of English muffins until he presented them to me.  The best part was watching him work. The way he worked the knife like it was a magic wand, and how he practically danced the entire time. Two slices with just the right spread amount of jam, and a side of blueberries that spelled out, "I love you."

           "Aw. I love you too," I said, pecking him on the lips.

I was able to convince Harry to fly back to the States with me, so we could just get on the with the wedding. He would stay in a hotel, and both of our parents would come down in a few weeks. The wedding would be there before we knew it. A quick goodbye to his parents and family, and we were off.