"Charlie?" I frowned, trying to keep my voice neutral.

"Yeah," Harry sighed, the playful energy from earlier completely gone.

"Oh, okay," I replied, feigning indifference.

He was already typing a response, his fingers moving quickly over his phone screen. I suddenly felt like an intruder, like I was watching something I shouldn't. The weight in my chest grew heavier, so I grabbed our mugs and walked to the kitchen. If I stayed there any longer, he'd see right through me, and I couldn't let that happen.

"I'm meeting her this afternoon after an appointment I have," he said, almost hesitantly, like he was testing my reaction.

I kept my hands busy, rinsing out the mugs, focusing on the water running over the ceramic. "Are you angry?" he asked, stepping closer.

"Should I be?" I countered, finally looking up at him.

His gaze softened. "I don't want her," he stated firmly.

"Then why see her?" I asked, trying to keep my voice even.

He ran a hand through his curls, exhaling heavily. "I owe her at least that much. She—" he hesitated.

"She what?" I prompted, suddenly feeling like I didn't want to hear the answer.

"She's getting a divorce."

I don't know how I managed to put the last dish down without shattering it.

"For you?" My stomach twisted at the thought.

"Yes," he admitted, looking down.

"And why would she do that?"

"She wants to be with me," he answered, but before I could react, he quickly added, "but Ella, baby, I swear I don't want that. You have nothing to worry about."

His hands found my shoulders, turning me to face him, but I kept my arms folded across my chest. "Don't I?" I whispered.

"I want you and only you. No share, remember?" His voice was softer now, pleading.

I searched his face, needing more. "Then why do you need to see her?"

He sighed again. "I don't need to. I have to. She's leaving her husband. I need to tell her there's nothing between us before she makes an even bigger mistake. And I can't do that over the phone."

My throat was tight. "Do you love her?" The question came out before I could stop it.

His eyes widened. "What? No. Of course not. I don't even care about her like that. But I do have the decency to tell her in person."

I hated that he was right. I hated that this was the right thing to do. And I really hated that it still hurt.

His arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me against him. "Ella, baby, you know it's you I want, right?" he murmured.

"I need to know something," I whispered.

"Anything. Take it off your chest, baby."

I swallowed hard. "Would you still be with her if you hadn't met me?"

His expression changed, his jaw clenching slightly. "I don't know. Maybe. Maybe not. But the fact is, I did meet you, and now everything's different. I can't answer a hypothetical question, and it's not fair for you to ask me that."

It wasn't the perfect answer, but it was honest. And that mattered.

"Baby..." He tilted my chin up with his fingers, forcing me to meet his eyes. And instead of pulling away, I did something reckless.

I grabbed him by the collar and guided him back to the living room, pushing him onto the couch. Before he could react, I climbed onto his lap, straddling him. His hands instinctively gripped my hips, but his smirk told me he was enjoying this.

I tangled my fingers in his curls and tugged gently, earning a low growl from his lips. His grip on me tightened, pulling me closer until there was no space left between us. I could feel him hardening beneath me, which only fuelled the fire building inside me.

I kissed him, deep and slow, teasing him with my tongue, nipping at his bottom lip. I let my lips trail along his jawline, nuzzling against his ear before biting down gently on his earlobe.

"Jesus, Ella. You're driving me insane," he groaned.

"What's gotten into you?" he asked, his breathing heavy.

"Just giving you a preview, baby. Now you can go see her," I whispered into his ear before climbing off him, grabbing my bag and keys.

"Holy fuck," he exhaled, still gripping the couch like he needed something to hold onto.

I pecked his lips once more, flashed him a small smirk, and walked out the door.

I knew my reaction was childish and manipulative. Claiming him like that before he went to see Charlie was not me. But I couldn't help it.

When I got home, I didn't even get the chance to sit down before Chrys was pointing at me like she had just made the biggest discovery of her life.

"Don't move!" she ordered.

I barely had time to process before she disappeared into her room and came back, miming the motion of putting something around my neck.

"There you go!" she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

I blinked. "What... is this?"

"Your medal," she announced dramatically, crossing her arms.

"My what?"

"Your medal of stupidity," she clarified. "Are you insane? You got him all hot and bothered before meeting with Charlie? That's fucking genius."

"Shit, I hadn't thought of that," I muttered, feeling my stomach drop.

"Yeah, no shit," she deadpanned.

I shrugged, trying to act nonchalant. "Anyway, he had an appointment before his meeting with her."

"With who?" she asked curiously.

"I have no idea. I didn't ask."

"You didn't ask?" she looked at me like I had just committed a crime.

"I can't just expect him to report his entire schedule to me, Chrys," I said defensively.

"Why not?" she shrugged. "I mean, I make Ed do it."

I narrowed my eyes. "What do you make Ed do?"

She grinned mischievously. "Things he's good at."

My stomach dropped. "Chrys—"

"With his tongue," she added, wiggling her eyebrows.

"Oh my God." I groaned, covering my face with my hands.

Chrys was dying of laughter. "You should've seen your face! Oh, relax, I was just joking."

"You better be joking," I huffed. "He ate half my ice cream cone yesterday, for fuck's sake!"

She gasped dramatically. "Oh, so that's why his tongue was cold."

"Chrys!" I screeched.

She erupted into laughter, and despite myself, I started laughing too.

The truth was, I was glad she had given Ed a chance. But deep down, I also worried she was only in it for the attention, and that Ed—who was already going through so much—would be the one to get hurt in the end.

But right now, that was the least of my problems. Because in a few hours, Harry was going to see her. And I had no idea what would happen next.

***

"Hey," his soft lips brushed against my cheek, stirring me awake. He was already lying next to me in bed.

"Hi," I murmured, my voice deeper than usual with sleep. "I must've dozed off. Did Chrys let you in?"

"Yeah," he whispered against my skin, his lips peppering light, ticklish kisses along my shoulder. My eyelids were heavy, torn between sleep and the delicious warmth of his touch. I wanted to ask how it went, but I held back, waiting for him to bring it up.

His arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me closer until we were completely tangled. I intertwined my fingers with his, absentmindedly tracing the contours of his knuckles. His jaw rested against my shoulder, and I could feel the gentle exhale of his breath against my skin before he finally spoke.

"So... we met," he said, his body tensing slightly.

I kept quiet, letting my fingers continue their slow, reassuring caress over his hand.

"She's still going through with the divorce," he admitted.

That made my eyes snap open, but I said nothing, too afraid of what else I might hear.

"She's in love with me," he continued, but that wasn't exactly news. Her possessiveness had been screaming that all along.

"I told her I was sorry," he whispered.

"Sorry?" My voice finally broke the silence.

"Sorry that I couldn't love her back."

"Oh," I exhaled. My mind conjured up images of their meeting—her desperation, his pity—and it made my stomach twist.

"I told her that..." He hesitated, like he was carefully picking his next words. "That I was taken."

I turned slightly to face him. "Taken?"

"Yeah. And she disagreed," he added with a small smirk, though his eyes were still searching mine.

I frowned. "She doesn't believe you're taken?"

"No," he murmured, still watching me intently. "She thinks I'm way past that."

I swallowed. "And what does that mean?"

His smirk deepened. "She thinks I'm in love."

My heart stilled. "And what do you think?" I whispered.

He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, his thumb grazing my cheek. His gaze didn't waver, didn't falter, didn't hold a single ounce of doubt.

"I think she's right," he said, his voice steady.

My breath caught in my throat.

"I'm in love with you, Ella. So fucking in love with you, it's insane," he admitted. "I love your heart, your mind, your body, the way you make me feel. I love that you make me believe the world is a little less shitty. I love that someone like you exists, and I get to have you in my life."

I was stunned. His words settled into every crevice of my heart, warming me from the inside out. I could see it, feel it—he wasn't just saying it. He meant it.

"Make love to me," I heard myself whisper.

His lips parted slightly, eyes darkening. "What?" A slow, knowing smile crept onto his face.

"Make love to me," I repeated, this time with certainty.

His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. "What about taking things slow?" His voice was thick, but laced with hesitation—like he wanted to be sure I wasn't saying this just to prove something.

"We've waited long enough," I murmured.

I slipped out of bed and stood beside it, watching as he pushed himself up, resting his back against the headboard. He was silent, clearly processing the sudden shift.

I reached for the button of my jeans, undoing them slowly, sliding them down with purpose. His gaze followed my every movement, his fingers gripping the edge of the sheets as if to keep himself grounded.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his voice husky, dry.

I didn't answer.

I peeled off my socks, then my shirt, leaving me in nothing but a delicate black lace set. His jaw clenched as he took me in.

"Don't move," he ordered abruptly. "I want to burn this into my memory."

His voice was reverent, almost strained.

"You can't imagine how many times I've gotten off just thinking about you like this," he admitted, licking his lips. "And now that I'm actually seeing you... I realize I never even came close to doing you justice."

His words sent shivers down my spine.

"Take off your clothes," I said boldly.

He grinned at my confidence, but he obeyed. He lifted his shirt slowly, revealing his toned torso inch by inch before tossing it aside. He made a show of unbuttoning his jeans, sliding them down deliberately.

I moved forward to help him, and we both chuckled at the awkward shuffle of getting them off completely. When we finally stood there in nothing but our underwear, the air between us shifted. It wasn't just lust—it was something deeper, something unspoken.

This time, he was mine to touch, to cherish.

There was no hesitation when we came together again, our mouths crashing into each other's. His hands roamed, tracing my body as though he was learning me all over again. His touch was firm yet reverent, like he needed to feel every inch of me.

"God, I want you so much," he groaned against my lips, his fingers sliding over the lace covering my breasts.

His mouth trailed along my jaw, down my neck, before capturing one of my hardened nipples through the thin lace. The sensation made me arch against him, gasping.

It was too much and not enough at the same time.

"Harry," I whimpered, pulling him back up to me, crashing my lips onto his again.

A growl vibrated through his chest as he ground himself against me, the friction sending sparks through my body.

"I love you," I breathed, my head spinning.

He stilled.

For a second, I thought I'd ruined the moment, but then his hands tightened around me, his forehead resting against mine.

"I love you too, Ella," he said, his voice raw. "You have no idea how much."

He kissed me again, deep and slow, as if pouring every ounce of emotion into it. He unhooked my bra, sliding it off my shoulders, his lips following its path.

"Are you sure?" he asked one last time, hovering above me.

I nodded, breathless. "Yeah. I'm sure."

A slow, satisfied smile spread across his face before he kissed me again, trailing soft, open-mouthed kisses down my stomach.

His hands gripped the waistband of my lace underwear, sliding them down until I was completely bare beneath him. I should've felt exposed, but the way he was looking at me—with complete adoration—made me feel worshipped.

"You're beautiful," he whispered, his lips brushing against my skin between words. "Beautiful. Beautiful. Beautiful."

His hands skimmed my sides, his fingers ghosting over every curve, every inch of me.

I reached for him, pulling him down, our mouths meeting again in a slow, consuming kiss. My hands found the waistband of his boxers, pushing them down. I couldn't bring myself to look yet—I was too overwhelmed by everything, too lost in him.

I reached into the drawer beside the bed, fumbling for the small packet. My fingers trembled slightly as I handed him the condom.

He chuckled softly at my nerves, taking it from me. "Relax, baby," he murmured, though I could tell he was just as wound up.

I felt him position himself between my legs, our eyes locking.

And then, with one slow thrust, he was inside me.

Our fingers laced together as he moved, slow and deep, his forehead pressing against mine.

"I love you, Ella," he murmured against my lips, his voice a mix of reverence and desperation. "So much. You feel so fucking perfect around me."

"I love you too, Harry," I gasped.

We came undone together, lost in each other, in love, in everything.