Love in Photographs

11. Lullabies and Tinted Windows

Dinner went smoothly, and I sat back mesmerized as Harry and my grandpa did most of the talking. I'd always thought someone like Harry meeting someone like my grandpa would be awkward, but I was surprised to see it wasn't. Two completely different people from opposite ends of the earth almost, and yet they found many things in common to talk about.

They went on for a couple hours at the dinner table, and I'd chime in now and then. But mostly, it was them. They talked about the Eagles, Fleetwood, and everything great about music in the 70s. Then they got on the topic of the 60s and everything great about the cars then. Grandpa talked about old vehicles he had, some of which were still out back. Harry told him about the 60s Mercedes Benz convertible he'd bought recently and showed him pictures, my Grandpa literally salivating over the car. I was, too, honestly. It was a beautiful car.

Harry kept telling me his trainer was going to kill him for the millions of carbs he was eating. That didn't stop him from eating everything he put on his plate, and then seconds... and then thirds.

"Did you make all of this?" He asks me, taking a bite of the apple cake I'd made earlier.

I nod, watching him inhale the cake, trying not to laugh.

"God, I'm not going to be able to move for days." He says, leaning back in the old wooden chair and putting his hands on his stomach.

My grandpa laughs.

"How do you think I feel after all these years? I have to work, work, work just so I don't get fat." He laughs, and I roll my eyes.

"You don't have to eat it..." I smirk to both of them, and they both scoff.

Grandpa starts to pick up the dishes and I dismiss him. I notice his back making him strain to lean across the table.

"I'll get these Grandpa," I say, taking the dishes from him, watching him intently. "Besides... Harry can help. I'll make him work for his dinner."

Harry's seemed to notice my grandpa's ailing back, as well, and he's already helping me before I even notice.

"Now, Annie, you don't need to make him do anything." My grandpa starts, but Harry shakes it off.

"I grew up with my mum and sister," He explains, smiling. "I'm very used to pulling my weight."

So, my grandpa walks up the stairs and once I hear the shower running, I know he's done for the night.

I walk back into the kitchen, where Harry stands against the counter, facing me, leaning on his arms. A literal reimagining of Adonis, posed just perfectly... waiting on me... in my Grandpa's kitchen... and he loves me.

"What?" He asks, noticing me staring.

"It's just weird, still," I explain, watching his scoot over so I can put the dishes in the sink. "Having you here, in my grandpa's kitchen, in Alabama."

He moves behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist while I wash dishes. I'm sure it's an odd sight.

"It is weird," He says, bringing his face down to my shoulder. "I like it here, though."

"I do, too." I agree, rinsing the last dish and putting it in the dish drainer on the counter.

"I've missed you so much," He tells me, placing kisses all up and down my neck. I shiver. "I swear you're like heroin. And I'm an addict."

"I think you've got that backwards," I tell him, shivering again at the feeling of his hands traveling up my sides under my shirt, his fingertips barely brushing my skin. "I can barely think when I'm around you."