sign {h.s.}

capitulo cuarenta y dos

"ARE YOU GOING to be like this all day?" The sound of my voice breaking the silence that we have created around ourselves when I step into the living room even shocks me. There's a slight aggression to the words, one I immediately regret. With a sheepish blush coloring my cheeks, my gaze dips down to the floor. I watch as my feet awkwardly shuffle in place before I remind myself that I have a right to speak this way. I have a right to advocate for myself and my own emotional response to this situation, so long as I am not impeding his own feelings.

I'm well aware the reason that I came—that we came—to Paris.

Nadine had invited Harry here for reasons unknown. Harry hadn't felt able to do it alone. He asked me. There was never any pretense that I was here for any reason other than emotional support. When things went south this morning, things went south this morning. There is little we can do about that now. Though, we still have a weekend in front of us. If he wants or needs to silently stew, I need to be aware of that so that I can best fill the role that I came here to do. But, if he wants something more than that, he needs to break out of the funk that he has cornered himself in.

When I look up at Harry, I see his position is virtually unchanged: his legs are stretched out wide, his head rests against the back of the couch and both arms are folded over his eyes. The pose is a mixture of equal part stress and exhaustion. Though, upon hearing the sound of my voice, his arms raise. He looks at me out of the corner of his eye. "Ready?" He asks, the vaguest hint of dejection seeping through his tone. I don't miss the way he avoids the question that I had posed.

"No," I repeat, stern and firm. I'm not wavering in my position, demanding exactly what it is that I think I deserve. "I said: Are you going to be like this all day?" My arms are crossed over my chest, but he doesn't see. Though he is looking at me, I can tell that he is not seeing me.

"Pardon?"

Sitting up straighter, he finally gives me the attention that I'd wanted in the first place. He's defensive now. We're both on edge, cautiously gazing in the direction of the other. Looking at me, I can tell that he is trying to determine whether I'm looking for a fight. That exhaustion is back in his eyes, a sort of breaking. His jaw sets and clicks, and pain rings through his eyes. It's the most honest display of emotion that I've received from him. For some reason, it speaks to me. That small flicker of emotion that exists for less than a complete second speaks to me.

I suck in a deep breath and force myself to exhale the tone that I'd been employing up to this point. He'd been on the defensive because I insinuated that he had something to defend. "I'm not picking a fight," I tell him, my hands coming up in a sort of innocent gesture. This time, keeping my voice level isn't a fight. It's instinctive. "But here's what I'm going to say: I came all this way for you. To be here for you. The way that you're acting right now is making it really hard for me to do that. I can't help you if you just shut me out. If that's what you want, fine. But you can't have it both ways. Either tell me what just happened between you and Nadine so we can work through it together, or move past it and let it go."

Harry contemplates for a moment.

His reaction comes only a few seconds later, when he stands up off the couch and moves in closer to me. A kiss is pressed against my cheek, the smoothness of his face rubbing against mine. "You're right," he admits, without an ounce of hesitation to his words. "Let's move on. I'll tell you about it someday, but for now I just need some space from all of this. Let's go and make the most of the rest of this trip."

"Okay," I agree immediately, giving him the widest smile that I can manage.

We make our way to the door together. Standing in front of me, he bends at the knees so he is standing levelly to me. Hands cup either side of my face, slightly squishing my cheeks together. Adoration runs through his eyes like spilled ink, spreading and spreading and spreading. An explosion of my heart, I watch his lips move but don't hear the words, can't hear the words when he says, "Je t'aime vraiment, tu sais?" [French: I really love you, you know?]