Chapter Twenty-Three: Harry

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It was a beautiful sunny day in Southern California, so Sam and I decided to go out. We'd been avoiding the public for some time, our only real appearance together being during the Billboard Awards a week ago.

                  Obviously it didn't take long for the press and paparazzi to find out. Sam's hand was tight in mine as we walked down the strip. The paparazzi were on the other side of the street and some down at the further end, but the clicking of their cameras was relentless.

                  I was tense, though, because I knew they'd ask Sam about her past. I didn't want that, and I knew that I wouldn't be able to hold myself back if one of those assholes said something to her. She looked over at me. "Are you okay?" she asked.

                  A side of my mouth turned up. "I'm more concerned about you," I replied and knocked my shoulder against her. She's smirked and leaned her head against my bicep as we strolled.

                  "I'm fine," she answered. She wrapped her free arm around the same one she was resting her head on. "Besides, I've got you to protect me."

                  I'd only hoped that I'd be able to protect her to the best of my ability without causing a huge scene. PR was already upset with her news getting leaked. Not at her, per say, but because it was causing a bit of bad press with some of the fans. But I told them that I didn't give a fuck, and that I wasn't leaving Sam when she needed me most.

                  Sam looked up at me again. "Hey, there's a children's store down here. I want to grab a few things for Nicki while I have some downtime," she said.

                  "You don't know what she's having," I pointed out.

                  She licked her lips and smiled. "It's a girl. She found out yesterday."

                  The store appeared down the strip. "You're taking this well," I said delicately.

                  Sam shrugged. "I'm so happy for her. I was upset at first, but she's my best friend and she's so happy. It's hard for me to resent that."

                  I planted a kiss on the top of her head and we went into the children's store. Sam detached herself from me and took a deep breath, taking in all of the clothes, toys, and furniture. This was something she never really got to do before, and I was worried that it was overwhelming for her.

                  She shuffled over to a jumpsuit decorated in sunflowers. It was precious, I couldn't deny it. "Oh my God, Nicki would love this," Sam gasped and searched for the right size. Once she found the one she was looking for, she draped it over her arm and continued searching.

                  I assumed it was a woman thing to squeal and giggle over little baby clothes, because Sam did it about every thirty seconds. She'd hold up every article of clothing and tell me to look, screaming about how adorable it was. We ended up heading to the register with about ten articles of clothing, three pairs of shoes, and a stuffed rabbit that Sam was obsessed with.

                  As she pulled her wallet out of her purse, I handed over my card to the clerk. "Harry," she huffed and set her wallet back in her purse. "She's my best friend. I should pay."

                  I gave her a quick wink. "My treat. It'll be from the both of us."

                  She just rolled her eyes and thanked the cashier when she handed her the bag. As we started walking towards the front of the store, I noticed that more and more paparazzi were crowding around the entrance. The body guard with us could only do so much to hold the dozens of them back. Sam gripped the bag in one hand and held onto me.

                  We took a deep breath and opened up the door. The cameras were flashing and clicking, dozens of voices all talking at once.

                  Sam, are you pregnant?

                  Are you two getting married?

                  Sam, are you lying about your pregnancy?

                  Did you know who the father was?

                  Are you going to do an interview about everything?

                  Have you seen everyone calling you a slut?

                  I kept my expression neutral, but I glanced down at Sam who was looking at the ground. Her chest was rising and falling rapidly, her grip deathly tight. "I can't breathe," she muttered. "Harry, I can't breathe."

                  Holding her closer to me, I sped up our walk. She was practically hyperventilating next to me, her breaths short and shallow. "Harry, please," she gasped. We approached our car and I practically lifted her into the passenger seat and buckled her up before getting into the driver's seat.

                  I drove us for a mile or two, Sam's rapid and rugged breathing the only sound besides the hum of the engine. I pulled into a nearly empty parking spot, turning the car off and leaning over the seat. I grabbed her face in my hands. "Sam, listen to me. Focus on me," I ordered. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her hand pressed to her chest. "Breathe. In and out."

                  To help her calm down, I slowed my breathing and demonstrated how. "In and out," I whispered again. Slowly her breathing returned to normal, making her sigh out a shuttering breath before bursting into tears.

                  "What's wrong with me?" she cried, burying her face in her hands.

                  My expression softened and I sighed. "Baby, you had a panic attack. It's okay. You were overwhelmed."

                  Sam lifted her head from her hands. All I could focus on was her watery eyes and the huge tears that fell from them. "No, what's wrong with me? Why did I do this to myself? Why did I have to be so stupid? None of this... none of this would have happened if I just..." but she couldn't finish because she was sobbing again.

                  If it wasn't for the damn console between us, I'd have her so close to me, but there was nothing I could do except push her hair from her face and wipe her wet cheeks. "They're awful people, Sam. All of them. It's not just your fault, okay? And you can't change what happened. There's nothing wrong with you, sweetheart. I promise," I explained.

                  Slowly but surely I was losing the Sam I had come to know and love. The bright, headstrong girl that I'd met months ago was no longer in front of me. She was a broken shell of a girl who couldn't let her past mistakes go, and I didn't know how to help her.

                  She shook her head and wiped away her tears, relaxing back into her seat. She sniffled. "Just take me home," she whispered. So I did.

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