Canyon Moon | H.S.

Let Me Show You (43)

Harry's POV

I blink my eyes awake to the shrill sound of my phone ringing. The room is bright, and one look at the clock beside me tells me it's almost ten. The bed next to me is empty, so Natalie must already be downstairs.

It's the middle of November, and both Nat and I are starting to find our routine. I'm at the studio more often, messing around with song ideas with the guys, not really expecting any of them to get used for anything, but enjoying having something to focus on.

Natalie's been using her studio more, painting most days. We're in the process of trying to get her a website set up, so she can start taking commissions and selling her art. Her video that was released on Halloween was a huge hit, and the cover has been listened to on Spotify a bunch too. I'm hoping I can convince her to do something else music related soon.

My phone is still ringing, so I prop myself up in bed and grab it from where it sits on the nightstand, bringing it to my ear as I swipe at my tired eyes.

"Hello?" I can hear my own voice hazy with sleep, and I clear my throat as Jeff's voice rings out.

"Sorry to wake you, Harry," he says, obviously able to recognise my tone of voice, "but I just got that phone number you needed and wanted to pass it on asap."

Phone number? I've got no idea what he's talking about. It's too early.

"What phone number?"

"The number of that producer you've been wanting to get in touch with. You said you were going to pass it onto Anna. I'm happy to give her a ring and give it to her directly if that's what you want?"

"No no," I rub my face with my hand, still not entirely sure what's going on, "that's fine. Let me just find a pen and I'll write it down."

I roll over slightly, opening the drawer of my nightstand, shuffling around to try and find a pen. No luck. My eyes dart across the room, but nothing pen like jumps out at me. I mumble under my breath, swinging my feet off the edge of the bed.

Maybe Nat has one? I shuffle round the bed and pull her drawer open, grabbing the pen and notebook she has in there and flicking to the back.

"Okay, I've found a pen." I say into my phone, and jot down the number Jeff dictates. 

I've caught on now as to what's happening. I mentioned to Jeff about a week ago that there was a producer who's stuff I really liked, and that I would love to meet him and possibly see what he does with some of my songs.

"Great, thanks Jeff." I say, hanging up and sitting back in bed.

I could go back to bed, but I'm wide awake at this point. Plus I really should get this number to Anna so she can try and arrange a meeting.

What is this notebook anyway? I turn it over, looking at the plain black cover. I've never seen her with this before. Maybe she brought it from home just in case she ever needed something to write in next to her bed. Smarter than me, that woman is.

I flick to the front page, my eyes growing wide as I read the words Dearest Harry.

Is this a letter? To me?

I miss you.

My breath hitches, those simple words already sending alarm bells blaring in my head.

I think that goes without saying. It feels foolish to write it down, to force my hand to write those three simple words that I'd prefer to say to you in person, but it's true.

She wrote to me.

You're my sun, Harry. My beautiful, golden man.
It's been grey since I had to leave.