I pull myself closer to Harry's chest as he wraps his around me while we sit together on the couch. I take a few pieces of popcorn from the bowl that's sitting in Harry's lap and pop them into my mouth. I try to pay attention to the movie we're watching, but Harry's body is so warm against mine that I'd rather go to sleep.
"Do you ever think about the future?" Harry suddenly asks, breaking the silence.
"I guess. Do you?"
"Yeah."
"What do you see in the future?"
"You and me. And maybe a few mini Harry's or mini Athena's running around the house."
I look up at him and he smiles down at me. I've never thought about our future that much before, because our relationship is so great right now, I didn't want to ruin that by thinking too far into the future. But I had pictured us with kids a few times and the thought made me smile. Harry would be such a good father, but the topic of children never came up since we're still so young.
"Have you thought about names, too?" I ask curiously.
"Harry Jr. for a boy, and for a girl... I really like the name Lily."
"Me too," I say, picturing a little girl with Harry's hair and my eyes. "You'd make a great father."
"And you'd make a great mother," he says softly and kisses the top of my head.
I smile at the memory, but it quickly turns into a frown. I had always wanted to start a family with Harry, and it's a shame that we never would. I know the news that I'm about to tell him is going to break his heart, and if he doesn't already hate me, he probably will after this. But I've kept this from him for the last seven months and he deserves to know the truth.
I busy myself by cleaning up around the apartment - not that it really needs it, but I need something to do to keep my mind off Harry. I pick up stray pieces of clothing and place them in the hamper and straighten the magazines sitting on the coffee table into a neat pile before flipping the couch cushions and fluffing the pillows. It isn't until I'm adjusting the picture frames on the wall that I realize how much I'm overreacting about all of this. Harry's not going to care about how clean my apartment is.
I plop onto the couch with a huff and try to think about anything besides Harry - it doesn't work. All I can think about is every one of his possible reactions. He could sit in silence while avoiding all eye contact with me, or he could pace relentlessly around the apartment, trying to hide his disappointment from me.
I don't know which one would be worse.
Maybe I should've asked him to meet me someplace else since the walls in this place are not the thickest, and I don't want the neighbors to hear any of this. But if we met in a public place, we could be photographed again and I don't want Harry to have to talk about me any more than he has to. I saw his face in that interview, and I know it would only be worse once he knows the truth.
As much as I want Harry to walk through the door, I also want him to be extremely late - or not even show up, because I don't know if I'll be able to build up the courage to tell him. I've kept this a secret for so long and I've gotten used to it being that way. The only thing still stopping me from telling Harry, is how heartbroken he'll be when I tell him.
Then the doorbell rings.
Suddenly this apartment feels much smaller than it really is, and I'm having trouble breathing. Maybe I could pretend I'm not home? I decide against it because Harry probably wouldn't fall for it, since I did invite him over here, and it's a horrible idea really. I can't chicken out now; so I force myself off of the couch and towards the door.
