Where Do Broken Hearts Go? | Unexpected Series Book One

Chapter 6: Stolen Roses and Dinner Burps

A/N: Thanks so much to everyone who's reading, voting and commenting on this, I really, really do appreciate it very much! xo

Harry's POV

After seeing mum safely inside, I start the drive home. I actually feel a bit excited to be honest. I've had a great lunch with her and I'm hopeful that this dinner will cap off the day beautifully.

I can't help but wonder what Beth will cook?

She was pretty open about her lack of ability to cook, but I'm sure it'll be lovely whatever she cooks. I probably should bring something though. It would be awfully rude of me not to.

I'll pick up something along the way.

Soon enough I'm back home and I glance at my car's dashboard and see that it's almost 5pm.

I turn the engine off and hop out of the rover. I go inside my house and head upstairs to change. I don't really need to shower so I swap my t-shirt for a black long sleeve shirt with a dotted print. It's one of my favourites. I don't really need to do anything else I don't think so I walk down the stairs and go to pick up my coat.

Wait.

Deodorant?

I lift up my arm and sniff.

Nah, I'm fine.

I think.

I run back upstairs and spray some on.

Just in case.

I'd hate to be accused of having smelly armpits.

I go back downstairs again and grab my coat for the second time as well as my wallet, sunglasses and keys.

I jog out to the car and hop in and begin the drive to Beth's.

I turn the radio on and start to tap along to the beat on the steering wheel. I'm in a damn good mood and I'm really looking forward to this.

Soon enough I'm in the main strip and my first stop is the florist.

What woman doesn't like flowers?

Those with hay fever probably.

Shit.

But it's winter. Surely it'll be fine.

I decide to chance it and head into the florist.

I settle on buying Beth some roses. There is a beautiful bunch of dark red ones and a dozen of those would be perfect. I pick them up and inhale their sweet perfume smell.

'Baby they're perfect, baby they're perfect for you,' I sing in my head.

What the hell Harold?

I shake my head and walk over to the counter and hand the roses over. The woman behind the counter proceeds to wrap some clear cellophane around them.

''Would you like a card for these?" she asks me.

"Sorry?" I reply.

"A card," she nods her head to the display stand on the counter, "do you want to write a note?"

Fuck.

What do I write?

Thanks for the dinner I invited myself to?

"I'll be right, thanks anyway," I decide the flowers alone are enough.

With the flowers now wrapped and paid for, I head back out and put them on the passenger seat of the car. I quickly duck across the road and into Waitrose to pick up some cheese and biscuits to have for after dinner.