“Have you heard from her?” Gemma asked quietly, genuine worry in her eyes, as she observed her brother.
Harry shook his head, without lifting his eyes from the table. He shook his head in disbelief and raked his hand through his hair. “I genuinely cannot believe that that happened”, he laughed humorlessly, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. “I can’t believe that I let it happen”.
Gemma shook her head at him, her expression incredulous. “I’ll be honest love, neither can I. It’s just not like you. Why would you crack up like that? Were you drunk?”
Harry shook his head, groaning. “No. I fucking wish I was. Then I might have an excuse”.
Gemma shook her head briskly. “You go back up there and see her, apologise. I dunno, buy her fucking jewellery or something. Go now. Like, right this second”.
Harry shook his head, his brow furrowed. “I can’t. I don’t even know what to say. Why did I do that?”
Gemma raised her eyebrows and her coffee cup to her lips. “What, ruined the most momentous night of her brother’s life?”, she asked innocently, receiving a dirty look in return. Gemma snorted. “Can you imagine if someone had done that to me, say, the night of MSG? Or the O2? You’d go mental. What were you thinking?”
Harry shook his head, unable to speak. Immediately following the fight with Eilidh, Harry had stomped, albeit somewhat stupidly through the buzzing streets of Glasgow before he called a car and had it take him straight to the airport, where he flew back to Heathrow in the early hours of the morning. He had fumed for hours, uptight and angry, sure that she would call, as he checked his phone every two seconds. But then, when he arrived home, it was as if a curtain had been lifted from his eyes and he saw the whole situation clearly, and he looked pretty appalling in the clarity. He had made no attempt to sleep, instead calling Gemma’s friend and finding out what flight home she was on and waiting for her at the airport. She had been confused to see him and he had immediately poured out the whole story, there in Starbucks, in Heathrow.
Gemma had never been one to mince her words, and he sometimes joked that his sister was one of the only people on earth that he was actually afraid of. They hardly ever argued, and as a result of his success had developed a grown-up sibling relationship younger than most, simply because they had to. She was unfailingly supportive and fiercely protective, but she was also the Big Sister, and saw no problem with putting him directly in his place when he needed it.
Gemma eyed him thoughtfully over her coffee, taking in his hollow cheeks and the smudges of black under his eyes. He looked wretched, and Gemma felt the first finger of curiosity cross her mind when she thought about this girl. She was generally wary of whoever Harry dated, although always fair and friendly. She was realistic about his stature and celebrity as well as his young age, and simply didn’t take many of the girls he dated seriously. She knew Caroline well, but much preferred her now that she wasn’t seeing her brother. Saying that, she could tell that Harry still grieved for her, and would purposefully avoid events or situations where she might be.
“You seem awfully fired up over someone that you have known for five weeks”, Gemma hedged, trying not to pry.
Harry looked up with a wry smirk. “Nosey”, he quipped.
Gemma rolled her eyes. “It’s not being nosey, just an observation. I don’t think I’ve seen you this bothered about a girl for a long time”.
Harry looked away. “When you meet her, you’ll get it”, he said simply, rocking back on two legs of his chair.
“Don’t do that, you’ll fall and split your head open”, Gemma scolded him, causing him to laugh and clatter his chair back down on four legs.
