Eight | W2S

SIXTY EIGHT.

I *think* (and I repeat THINK) we're under 10 chapters until the end!!! I am so beyond grateful for everyone who reads, votes, and comments on this story. You guys mean the world to meeeee anyway enjoy!! 

FOUR WEEKS LATER

"I can miss it too. Genuinely, I don't think anyone will care," Harry murmurs, still sat on the sofa next to me.

In the last three weeks, the morning sickness had completely taken over my body. I felt like I was throwing up more than I was doing anything else, and when I wasn't, I usually felt too weak to be standing up for too long anyway. 

I shake my head — as much as I can, anyway. "We've already missed two consecutive shoots. You go — I'm hoping I'll feel alright by next week. Plus, Sam said he'd come over and help," I add.

Harry's expression doesn't change. I suspect that the knowledge that Sam is coming over isn't helping to persuade him to leave.

"Ken —"

"Harry, honestly. It's fine. You haven't left my side for the last month! I appreciate it, I just — go. If I desperately need you back here, I promise I'll call you."

He looks at me. "Promise?"

I nod.

"Okay fine but I'm waiting for Sam to get here," he said, with a slight pout on his face. 

"If you must," I reply, feeling a little bit amused at his behaviour, despite knowing he was just being overprotective and worried.

Ten minutes pass, and we're just sat in silence. I'm watching the TV, and Harry is on his phone, before suddenly, "why is he not here yet?" 

His question brings me out of mind, where, I had been getting very into the house renovation project on the TV. I shrug. "He's probably stuck in traffic," I guess, looking at my own phone before gasping. 

"It's half ten! You need to leave, filming starts at eleven, and it's going to take you longer than half an hour to get there!" I chastise my boyfriend, who is still cosied up on the sofa. 

"I said I'd wait -"

"I'm not a child, Harry, I'll be alright. I promise! Please go, I don't want you to be late," I urge him, and finally he starts to move, even if it is slowly. 

"You absolutely promise you'll call if you need to?"

I nod my head vigorously. "Absolutely promise. Love you," I call out to him, and he leans down to kiss my cheek before grabbing his car keys, the door gently coming to a close behind him. 

It's another twenty minutes before Sam gets here, but I'm glad he is. 

"I am so fucking sorry! Who gave London the right to allow so many traffic lights? And every single one was red!" He ranted as he put his bag down on the counter, finally looking at me. 

"It's alright," I smile, as he tentatively walks forwards, his arms open, offering a hug. 

Of course, I accept, and he wraps his arms round me. "How're you doing?"

"Mmm. So-so. Morning sickness is kicking my ass. Although I'd more describe it as all-day, everyday sickness," I complain, him leading me back over to the sofa. "Literally can't keep anything down. Not even Martin's smoothies, and I am fucking gutted about that one."