Chapter Twenty Three - Cold Coffee

753 12 2
                                    

She's like cold coffee in the morning, 

I'm drunk from last night's whiskey and coke.

She'll make me shiver without warning.

And make me laugh, as if I'm in on the joke.

- "Cold Coffee", Ed Sheeran

....

All of the color drained out of Harry's face, his plump lips falling open. He stared at me wordlessly for a few seconds. I wondered what my face looked like. "It's my mom," he mouthed. 

He was going to start panicking. I saw the child in his spooked expression, the scared, fragile child he hid from the rest of the world. "It's okay, Harry, shh," I comforted him, leaning in to give him a small kiss. "I'll get the door, okay?"

He nodded mutely, sinking back down into the couch. 

"Ready?" I asked him, getting to my feet. My mouth felt like sandpaper. The knock echoed again. 

"Go ahead," he murmured. 

Finally, I hurried down the hallway to Harry's front door. The knob felt much heavier than normal as I slowly turned it, pulling the door open with extreme effort. 

There, wearing a black and white chevron print trench coat, was a woman. A tall, statuesque, beautiful woman. She had almond-shaped, blue eyes, defined cheekbones, and plump, pink, bow-shaped lips. Her dark hair framed her lovely face, and her pretty features were devoid of emotion. 

"A-are you Ali?" she whispered. 

I could only nod, opening the door further. Anne bustled in, still holding her bags. She literally must've come straight from the airport. Another girl wandered in after, her long, caramel colored brown hair billowing behind her, her deep, green eyes near clones of Harry's. She was every bit as beautiful as her mother and her brother. When she gazed at me, a dimple appeared in her cheek. 

Gemma. 

I shut the door, my mind reeling, and hurrying into the front room. Harry was standing there, facing Anne. His eyes were flashing, but other than that, his expression was blank. 

"Happy birthday, Harry," she whispered, her voice cracking in three places. 

"Thanks...Mom." His voice was hard, restrained, and thick. He turned to Gemma. "Hi, Gemma." 

A few tense minutes passed, them standing and staring at each other. Anne was the first one to break - she crumpled, her legs almost giving out to the floor. She stumbled a few paces forward, and wrapped her arms around Harry, practically howling with tears.

"Oh, Harry," she gasped, holding him tightly against her. "I've m-missed you s-so...s-so..." 

"Much," Gemma breathed, flinging her arms about the both of them. I could hear the tears in her voice, and it sounded like another person was close to crying. 

Harry. 

"I love you," he choked quietly to his mom and sister, holding them closer. 

"I'm so sorry, Harry," said Gemma. "I am so sorry."

I felt something glide down my cheeks - a few tears escaped myself. I sank down on the sofa, watching them hold one another. I had no clue how long they were group hugging. Time seemed to halt, as I gazed at Harry hold two very important women he hadn't seen in ages. 

Finally, Gemma pulled away, sinking on the sofa next to me. Anne and Harry stood, engulfed in each other's arms for a bit longer, before Anne slipped from him and perched on Harry's loveseat. He wiped at his face, exiting the room for a second to bring in a chair from his kitchen for himself. 

Show Me (A Harry Styles Fanfiction)Where stories live. Discover now