"Lily!"

I am unsure why Jeff is feigning such shock at me being here; he knew I was coming to London.

"Hello Jeff. S-u-r-prise!"  He stares right at me seemingly a little taken aback at my sarcasm. Harry on the other hand is completely oblivious, offering him coffee and fussing over his luggage.  Jeff holds both his hands up. "Look, I don't want to intrude, I didn't realise..." He wiggles his finger in the air but its direction is clearly meant for me. "I'll book into a hotel."

"Intrude? You aren't," Harry insists. "We were just off out so join us if you'd like."

"Oh, yes, I could do with stretching my legs after the flight. Thanks. I'll just dump my luggage and freshen up," Jeff mumbles, already scurrying away from the tension filled air.

"You know where everything is. Usual room," Harry calls after him.

I shove in another mouthful of my croissant to stop me saying something I will regret and wait until Jeff's footsteps disappearing up the stairs are evident.

"Harry, what the...," I whisper, eyes wide, hands exclaiming.

"What? I can hardly pack him off to a hotel," he mouths with a sharp hushed tone.

"Why not? This is supposed to be our week together in London or had you conveniently forgotten?" I accuse.

"No, but it didn't get off to the best of starts. Last time I spoke to him I thought you weren't coming," he retaliates.

"I'm beginning to wish I hadn't bothered. We need to talk about this."

"We don't," he retorts. "I shouldn't have left, I've said sorry, it doesn't need analyising."

"Clearly it does because you keep referring to it!"

"Just let it go will you."

"No actually, I..."

"You two ready to go?"  Jeff reappears silencing us both. 

And just like that two becomes three and Kenwood becomes Hampstead because Jeff forgot some toiletries.

We set off on foot with me in the middle of the Jeff and Harry sandwich. It feels like Uncle Jeff is our chaperone on our first date. Both men talk 'shop' across me for most of the walk. I am still mad at Harry which is exasperated by the fact that this is the most animated I have seen him since he showed me around his home the morning after the disastrous day before. Getting lost somewhere between talk of LA and New York, my mind wanders off to take in my elegant surroundings.

Hampstead is so pretty; a village within the metropolis that is London. Familiar stores line the High Street interspersed with exclusive boutiques displaying high-end labels that befit the affluence of this area. We amble along the narrow alleyways where small independent shops sell secondhand books, vintage home wares and antique furniture that spills out onto the pavement. I become transfixed outside the most elegant flower shop until it dawns on me that both men have disappeared.

I spot them in Ginger & White; a trendy café that serves colourful cupcakes, superfood breakfasts and everything healthy on sourdough. The barista is two takeaway coffees down with Jeff's to make when, despite being fairly inconspicuous in his plain hoodie, a couple of young women about my age approach him. Harry steps away from us to chat to them and I realise this is my first experience of an interaction like this. Fascinated, I spectate from the sidelines. The confident woman is animated in an explanation to Harry, referring with hand signals to her shy friend who blushes over whatever is being said. Harry appears so calm and confident as he takes the shy woman's hands in his, focusing only on her as she smiles warmly at him.

There is a tug on my sleeve and Jeff tilts his head towards the exit to steer us outside. At the end of the alley we perch on a low wall to wait for Harry. 

"I thought we were starting again Jeff, what happened to that?" I sip my Latte while staring ahead.

I sense him turn his head towards me. "Nothing, but you started it when I arrived."

I meet his stare. "Why did you arrive when you were not due until next week?"

"Last time I spoke to H he gave me the impression that you weren't coming to London so I decided to come early so we could get to work."

"You didn't think to call Harry to check?" I pout and shrug.

He mirrors my pout and shakes his head. "No not really. I figured that if he was busy I still had plenty of business here to attend to anyway. I meant what I said, I'll book into a hotel if you'd prefer, I really don't mind."

It strikes me he is genuinely being honest and my frustrations with Harry are not actually his fault.  "Look I'm sorry," I admit. "I didn't mean to be so flippant earlier." I return my focus back towards the café door and take another sip of my coffee.

"It's fine, really. You alright though, you look tired?"

I acknowledge his concern with a small smile. "I think the walk has taken it out of me a little bit."

"Is that all it is?" Jeff hesitates. "Tell me to mind my own business but things seem a little strained between the two of you."

Luckily I do not have an opportunity to offer any kind of response because Harry exits the café. He glances up and down the alley and when he spots us he raises his hand and breaks into a little jog towards us.

"Sorry about that, thanks for waiting," he puffs.

Jeff immediately stands. "Now you've been spotted mate, I think we should head back."

"Agreed, although I did ask them not to post any photos but there's no guarantees. Let's go."

Harry strides away but Jeff interrupts him. "Actually, I'm quite tired after my flight, think we'll cab back."

Harry spins back around with a shocked face. "That's unlike you, is this what happens when you get over thirty? Lightweight!" He mocks while pulling out his phone to call a car.

Jeff ignores his teasing but it is clear to me he feels fine. Harry walks ahead with his phone to his ear.

"Thanks Jeff," I whisper.

"No problem. It's all about making life easier, especially for Harry. He's got so much on his plate at the moment."

The journey back and the rest of that afternoon Jeff's words hang in the air and their dark shadow hovers over me. Am I overthinking or was there an underlying message implied?

Harry and I have not discussed this type of public encounter and this adds another 'talk about it' item to the list. Despite my best efforts though I find myself alone in bed again whilst Harry stays up watching TV and talking with Jeff until some ungodly hour.

The following morning I wake feeling refreshed after a good night's sleep.  I rest my hand on my cheek to study a sleeping Harry for a little while. The stubble on his chin sticks out like golden flecks in the morning light. His hair is haywire and despite being shorter, a single wisp still tries to curl across his cheek. I seem to have lost him this week and I so want to kiss him awake but he looks so content as the corners of his mouth twitch to smile at whatever his is dreaming about.  I decide to leave him to his slumber.

I make a conscious decision to have a more positive head on today. I go downstairs and make him a nice breakfast. On my return I hear him in the shower. Thinking I will join him, to my surprise I find the bathroom door locked. I leave the breakfast tray on the end of the bed and return downstairs. By the time he comes down, the tray is empty and there is another arrival at the house.

Emma, for want of a better description, is Harry's business everything. Executive PA does not go far enough to describe her role in his life. Harry speaks so fondly of her and I can see why. Their platonic affection for one another is clear from the huge hug they bestow upon each other and the welcome she gives me.

Jeff appears, grabs himself coffee then offers refills to the rest of us. The chatter between the gathered group is light and flows easily. Emma suggests there is a no time like the present for a catch up if that is okay with me. Appreciating her asking me, I take the hint and head across the hallway to the living room. Harry follows right behind me.

"I'm sorry things aren't panning out as we'd hoped. Let's do something this afternoon just the two of us."

I remind myself – positive head. "Yes I'd like that."

"Later, you and I."

With the taste of his small kiss lingering on my lips, I sink into the green velvet sofa and grab a cushion to cuddle. The guest book from Harry's 21st birthday at Lulu's Café in LA is one of many books on the table. I look at all the photos and loving and amusing messages from his family and friends from that night; he is clearly so loved.

Part of me is also earwigging in on bits of the meeting I can make out. It is not Emma and Jeff holding court over proceedings; it is Harry. He is in total control but he clearly values the advice from both of them, never dismissing their viewpoint or alternative suggestions.

So much is thrown around from meetings with the accountant in London about new company registrations, discussions on a New York apartment and adding another property to his portfolio, a meeting with the record company in New York, his friend Nick's birthday and getting hold of Tomo about the artwork gift, a wedding gift thank you from Ruth Payne and her new husband Tom, scheduling at Abbey Road Studios, Another Man photo approvals, Mitch flying in and assembling the other band members. And so it goes on and on. The extent of his upcoming diary is immense.

The catch-up appears that it is not going to end soon so I head upstairs to do my exercises and shower. Afterwards, I settle on the bed and let my book take me so far away that I do not notice Harry leaning up against the doorframe. I have no idea how long he has been there watching me.

"Have you finished your meeting? How did it go?" I ask.

He's pinching his bottom lip between his finger and thumb. "Hmmm." He moves to sit on the bed next to me. "I know I promised we would spend the rest of today together but something important just came up. I have to go to a meeting but it will only be a couple of hours and after we can have dinner tonight, just the two of us."

If he senses any shred of the obvious disappointment in my lame "okay" response he ignores it. I want to understand this world he lives in and I want to be supportive but my stomach just sinks.

Harry and Jeff leave shortly afterwards for Central London. I did not ask and Harry did not offer any details about the meeting. By the way he was flapping around before he left, it all seems very top secret to me.

I peruse the fridge to make myself some lunch whilst contemplating that visit to Kenwood House this afternoon.  The fridge is bursting with fresh meat wrapped in brown paper stamped on the front "Hampstead Butcher & Providore" and a rainbow of vegetables crying out for me to be creative.  I decide to stay in and cook for us rather than go out for dinner tonight..

It takes me a little while to familiarise myself with his incredible kitchen and the array of equipment, half of which has never been used. I prepare a marinade for the lamb cubes and cry my eyes out chopping onions for the skewers. Red cabbage slaw and mixed couscous with roasted red peppers, feta and mint later; I stink of garlic and onions and need another shower.

The smell wafting around the house from the kebabs roasting in the oven is mouthwatering. The kitchen is tidy and the dishwasher stacked. I lay the table and light Harry's favourite tubereuse candles.  Vase for the flowers?  I popped out earlier to the stall just up from his house. It may be a roadside seller but the blooms are good quality.  Harry does not appear to own a vase. The glass fruit bowl is just as good an alternative. I fill it with limes and water and arrange the pale green hydrangeas and pink peonies.

It is 7pm and my preparations are done. All I need now is Harry.

With a large glass of white in one hand I scroll through Twitter with my other. News of Harry being back in London has spread with post after post of the picture of him taken earlier at the café. The retweets, likes and comments are off the scale exclaiming all sorts of kind, wild and wacky words about him. There's excitement that new music could be on the way and so many questions about his haircut! This feels completely strange, like a parallel universe. That's Harry. My boyfriend. I then notice some very unkind comments about Jeff. Wait, what?! There's a couple about me. I look back at the photo and can just about make out Jeff and I in the background. An assistant? Am I that plain? Should I be blonde if I am dating Harry? They don't even know me. It bothers me. I stop scrolling. This is not a road I should venture down any further.

Becoming so immersed in Twitter, half an hour has passed. I gulp my wine then text Harry.  No reply.

Another frivolous waste of half hour passes and with it another glass of wine.

I call Harry. No answer.

I wait. No word.

At 8.15pm I nibble on the corner of one of my lamb cubes but don't actually fancy it. I cover the pitta and put the salads back in the fridge. I am willing my phone to ring or the door to open but instead, when my screen lights up, I am not ready.

Jeff: The meeting is still going on so eating out. See you later.