The Way We Feel

Chapter 7

"Sorry I'm late." Harry leaned down to kiss me, and I welcomed the kiss with a smile.

"That's alright," I said, watching as he sat across from me. I'd only been seated waiting for about ten minutes. "Productive meeting?"

"Mm," he hummed, already reaching for the bread set down on the table between us. "Looking like we can head in for some writing sessions as soon as next month."

He grinned at me, clearly happy, relieved even, to have figured out his next move.

Which made me happy, too.

"That's great," I said, watching him dig into the bread like he hadn't eaten in days. I knew very well that it had only been a few hours. "Third album stuff? Or are you going to be working on music for someone else?"

Harry shrugged a shoulder, and popped a piece of crust into his mouth. He grinned when he met my eye, still chewing. "Little bit of both, probably. O'course the focus'll be on new material, but I'm not opposed to giving some stuff to different artists if it's not quite right for the album."

It was amazing, really. To see that spark in his eyes again. It wasn't so much that there wasn't a light in his eyes otherwise, because there always was somehow. A passionate spark, a loving spark, a happy spark. But this... this was the creative spark. And I loved that it was not only visible again, but that it made me feel a spark of excitement, too.

After Harry had finished his tour in the middle of last year, we'd spent the next few months leading up to the wedding finishing up the planning. It had been exciting and exhausting all at once, and in many ways, we'd found that we just couldn't wait for the wedding to be over. Because in many ways, we were more excited to just get on with the rest of our lives.

But the wedding had been just as beautiful as I'd always imagined it, and after all that planning, it lasted no more than a day. Less than twelve hours. And we were here now. We were living our life together with rings on our fingers. And we hadn't planned for this part. At least, not down to the last detail. We knew what we wanted in the future, but this first month and a half of marriage—we'd spent it mostly just enjoying ourselves. Our time together. This new dynamic between us where marriage defined our relationship. Defined who we were.

But I could tell Harry was getting antsy. I could tell that he wanted to get back out into the world.

And I would never be the one to stop him. I would always be the one supporting him.

"This is exciting!" I said as he tore another piece of bread from the wedge of it between us.

"I know," he said through his smile. "I can't wait to get started."

We'd been home from our honeymoon for a little over a month, and though everything had changed, in certain ways, it also felt like nothing had now that we were married.

We still lived in the same apartment in New York City.

We still slept on the same sides of the bed.

We still argued over the correct way to load the dishwasher. (Apparently, I didn't align the utensils the way the dishwasher manufacturer intended for them to be aligned in their specified rack. Yeah... cue me rolling my eyes.)

And we still had a lot of sex. (Maybe a bit more now, when one or both of us got particularly turned on by the other using the terms "husband" or "wife".)

But some things had changed considerably over the last couple of months—the last month since we'd been home especially. And I had every intention of talking to Harry about one thing in particular now that we were together for lunch.