History Repeats Itself - A Prince Harry Fanfiction

Chapter Fourteen

Emmy suppressed tears as she followed Harry into the apartment. He'd led her through the palace, trying to lighten her dismal mood and cheer her up with teasing and amusing stories from his past week, but he could tell none of it was working. She walked next to him with eyes that looked like they were trying to hold back tears and a mouth pressed into a line as though to contain an imminent sob. By the time they reached the flat – the POs following, each with one of her boxes of possessions – Harry was silent. She didn't want to be here. No matter what he said, that wouldn't change.

He walked down the hallway, into his home, and noisily set his keys down on the telephone stand by the front door, moving ahead into the living room before turning to check she was following him.

Emmy stood in the corridor, watching as Rick and Jamie placed her boxes in the bedroom. She managed a small, polite smile at them as they nodded at her in farewell. As Jamie headed for the door, Rick searched for Harry.

"Everything okay, H?" Rick said.

"Yeah, thanks Rick," Harry answered, nodding and smiling. Rick nodded too, satisfied that he was no longer needed, and followed Jamie from the apartment.

They were alone, and Harry was anxious as to how the evening would progress. Emmy was still in her Starbucks shirt, so she couldn't have finished work long ago. Would that mean he'd have to make her dinner...?!

"You've been to work," he noted lamely.

"You too," she said, her eyes touching on his tie, on his suit. She smiled sadly after her words, then ducked her head.

"When do you, er..." He trailed off, not entirely sure whether he should ask. His question might just tip her over the edge. No, he thought. I have to ask. He took a deep breath. "When do you finish?"

"Today," she said. "It was my last day."

Shit. "Wow. That's...quick."

She shrugged. "I wasn't that good a waitress anyway."

They stood in silence for a few moments, Harry feeling extremely self-conscious and awkward as he tried to decide between taking her into the kitchen for food, into the living room for rest or into the bedroom to unpack.

Finally, he settled with, "What you do want to do now?"

Emmy half-smiled. "I don't know. What do you want to do?"

He saw the opportunity to try and make her laugh, and he took it. "I don't know. What do you want to do?"

She rolled her eyes at him, but an amused smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "Harry, just do what you normally do. I'll be fine."

"Have you eaten?" he asked anxiously.

"Stop worrying about me," she said, a laugh suppressed in her voice.

"Okay," he said, still not entirely sure what to do. "Dinnertime."

"Dinnertime," she quoted, smiling as he headed into the kitchen. She could so easily tell that he had no idea how to deal with this situation. He was evidently not used to having women stay over and not take them to bed. She gently dropped her bag to the floor, next to her cardboard boxes, then followed him.

"What do you want to eat?" he asked, as he searched through his freezer. "I have, er, burgers."

"That's fine by me."

He looked up at her from where he was crouched, searching through draws of frozen food. "Are you okay?"

His words, the concern in his eyes, it nearly broke her. She let out a wobbly sigh, her hand going to the back of one of the kitchen chairs to steady herself. Feeling the tears coming, she closed her eyes.