Karen felt his hand rest on the centre of her back, guiding her towards the terminal exit. She shuddered slightly, unsure as to whether she wanted him there or not. This was foolish, of course she wanted him. But she didn't want the 'him' of the past few years, the slightly distant stranger she wasn't sure she knew. She wanted Harry, her Harry. Her mind slowly wandered back to Valentines' Day, nearly twenty years ago. She had been sitting in a hot, stuffy lecture theatre at University, young, carefree and innocent, delighted that the drone of the professors voice was coming to a close.
"Any questions?" he had asked. The room was silent for a moment, then a tall, skinny figure rose from his seat, scraped back his long, floppy dark hair and cleared his throat.
"I just wanted to ask Karen Taylor whether she wanted to have dinner with me tonight." He said, very simply. A murmur of voices echoed around the room. Karen blushed a dark crimson and giggled childishly. She looked across to the other side of the room where he still stood. He smiled at her, absorbing her into his deep brown eyes. She managed to compose herself enough to squeak "That would be lovely, thank you." Before sinking down in her seat out of view of the hundreds of people clearly staring at her.
She shivered again, how was it that then he could melt her with a glance? Now, she couldn't bear for him to touch her coat. No. She knew exactly why she didn't want him to touch her. Because he had touched her…Mia. She couldn't stomach the thought of what he had done to her.
The truth was of course, she didn't know. She hadn't dared ask what had happened. She still didn't know what the necklace had meant. She didn't want it to have been sex or even love and a necklace. She hadn't asked. She didn't want to know. No. She didn't want to know if he had had sex with her. What she wanted was for Harry to tell her that he hadn't, that he loved only his wife, that he was sorry, and for him to sweep her off her feet. She wanted to melt in his gaze again. But, she couldn't.
She pulled the car onto the drive and heard him sigh beside her.
"Home again." He said. Looking across at her, she avoided his gaze. Instead going into 'mummy mode' and directing Daisy and Bernie towards the house, dealing with coats, hats, scarves, mittens, and boots in the porch.
She had successfully avoided the conversation about the necklace after Christmas and between New Year. She had kept herself busy until he left for New York on the 2nd January. Now, however, he was back and the question and the tension couldn't stay floating in the air for much longer.