Just keep breathing

Chapter 33

It's been a week since we arrived home, and even though we are in the same country, I feel like I've seen less of Harry than I did when he was on tour.

I've had to put in a few extra shifts at the pub to pay back the people who covered for me while we were on our impromptu trip, and Harry has spent a few nights at his place in London, so I am very much looking forward to my upcoming Thursday and Friday off.

Harry has some kind of issue with my car because it's a little old and has more miles on the clock than all of his vehicles combined, and he doesn't think it is capable of doing the less than hour drive to his house. So he's insisted on collecting me from work tonight and driving us both back to his tomorrow.

My shift doesn't even start for another hour, but already I am counting the minutes until he arrives.

I've successfully managed to dodge most of the questions that have been thrown at me so far from the tabloid reading customer's about the pictures and articles that have been printed about Harry and me.

Amber has been a godsend, finding urgent jobs for me to do when I've been corned in an awkward conversation or suddenly announcing that there is a phone call for me when one of the regulars pipes up about having seen me in the Sun that morning.

She also covered a lot of shifts for me whilst I was away... I really must get her a little something as a thank you. But tonight it's just me and the new guy, Darren, working, so it's going to be a lot harder to hide.

When I finally arrive to work, I am unhappy to find that its really quiet in the pub tonight, just a handful of regulars are propping up the bar.

"There she is, the jet setting girlfriend of the superstar!" Chris calls as I am walking behind the bar, tying the cord on my old brown apron as I go.

"Been whisked off to any other exotic locations since we last saw you?" He presses.

"Haha. OK. Go on, get it out of your system while it's quiet." I say, resigning myself to the inevitable.

"C'mon, how'd you bag yourself a millionaire?" Chris asks me loudly, and a couple of the other customer's in the bar turn their heads towards us in interest.

"Can we please change the subject?" I say at a much quieter volume and grab a rag to start polishing the bar with, suddenly needing something to concentrate on other than the interrogation about my love life.

"Ah, don't mind Chris, Kate," Adam, one of Chris' workmates' chimes in. "I'm happy for you. Seriously. You deserve someone decent in your life. And he seems like a good bloke."

"Thanks, Adam," I say shyly and continue to wipe down the bar.

"He is treating you, right? Right? Cos you know if he gives you any trouble..." Chris starts, but I cut him off.

"Yes, he is. Now, do you boys need a drink? I need to get this place cleaned up." I reply gesturing to the tables with empty glasses on nearby.

Thankfully the next few hours pass without incident. Adam tells me a little later that he's told the guys to lay off of their teasing and it seems to have worked as they don't question me about Harry again for the rest of the evening. Eventually slumping off home to their wives a little unsteadier on their feet than usual.

A little while before closing, I am just restocking the fridges when I hear the door open and see Harry wander into the pub. Even dressed casually in sweats and a jumper, he still looks out of place here, something about his perfectly chiselled jawline, piercing eyes and fingers covered in rings makes him stand out from the other patrons like a sore thumb.