Song: "Red, Red Wine" by UB40 ft. Bob Marley

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The rest of the week was kind of a blur. All I could think about was seeing Harry again on Saturday. I decided not to keep anything from Beth from now on because things were moving quickly with Harry and I needed advice! Well, that and she was one of my best friends. She came home with me after work on Friday and I actually fed her; granted, it was only soup and crackers, but still, I resisted the urge to order out. However, we had stopped and bought ice cream on the way home even though it was rather frigid outside.

"So, are you going to his place?" Beth asked as we sat down to enjoy our soup.

The question made me stop and think. "No, actually. I think he's cooking dinner for me here. I haven't been to his place yet."

She sat up and gasped dramatically. "What if he really is homeless and he's trying to hide it from you?"

I shook my head. "Shut up, will you? If he was homeless, then how did he suddenly find a stash of clean clothes - nice clothes, I might add - and a shower to use every day?"

"Yeah, you're probably right. But do you think he's hiding something?"

"No, why would he be?" I asked, having no idea why she was so suspicious. "He told me that he likes to get out of the house. I assume that's because there are too many memories there."

"Okay, that makes a lot of sense," she admitted. "But you might want to ask him about it if he doesn't invite you over to his place, let's say by the end of the year."

"Fine, that sounds reasonable," I relented.

We finished our dinner and Beth got the ice cream from the freezer. She brought two spoons over to the couch, setting the tub between us.

"This is dangerous," I said after my first bite.

"You were just telling me that he's perfectly normal, and now you're saying he's dangerous?" Beth asked.

"No, you weirdo! The ice cream is dangerous, especially with the whole container sitting right here. I can't resist Butter Brickle."

"It's toffee crunch, you weirdo," Beth teased.

"Same diff, it has pieces of toffee in it, I call it Butter Brickle."

She scoffed, "What does that even mean?"

"I honestly don't know," I laughed in defeat. "My parents would always call toffee ice cream Butter Brickle. I think it had to do with some old-fashioned candy bar."

"Your family is weird," she remarked. She had been home with me numerous times, so often in fact that she was like a part of the family.

"You are so right," I nodded.

We ate in silence for a long time. Finally, I got up and put the stupid tub of ice cream away, against Beth's protests, because I could literally feel my hips starting to get wider. We started getting ready for bed, since she decided just to crash at my place for the night.

"So, don't you think it will be weird to have sex with him knowing he was married? " Beth asked, completely out of the blue as she washed her face.

"Um, A, we're not even close to that point yet and B, why would I feel weird?"

She shrugged. "I don't know, just because he was with one person for so long, maybe he expects things to be a certain way."

"How many ways are there to have have sex?" I laughed. I shouldn't have asked that question.

"You want me to show you some positions?" She asked, grabbing her phone.

"No!" I cringed. "I'm sure we'll have some kind of discussion about it before we actually do anything. Besides, we're taking things slow, remember? He's still grieving. I'm sure he'll let me know if and when we get to the exclusive and serious stages. And I don't think it will matter if he wants things to be a certain way because I have no expectations since I haven't done it yet."

"So like, are you only kissing him, or are you full-on making out?" I could feel the heat in my face as it undoubtedly turned a reddish-pink. "Uh-huh," she said. "As I suspected. If you guys are making out, I'm pretty sure it's exclusive already, but I could be wrong."

We went and climbed into my bed. I have a queen-size, so I have no qualms about sharing with my friends. Some people might feel weird about it, but I guess that's another lasting effect of growing up in a big family. I don't get weirded out about many things.

I hesitantly told Beth, "I have to admit, though, that Harry makes me feel things and want things that I've never wanted before. So yeah, maybe it does make me a little nervous to think about all the years he was with his wife."

"I can imagine," Beth said sympathetically. "I suppose it's not much different than dating a guy who's been with other women. But then again, just because a guy slept with someone doesn't mean he loved her the way a man loves his wife."

"I feel like a creep," I admitted. "Like, yes, I know she's dead but I still wonder if she would be mad at me if she knew, or if she thinks I'm good enough for him. That probably makes me sound like a lunatic, doesn't it?"

Beth shrugged. "Kind of, but hey, this is new territory so I suppose you're entitled to feel any number of things." She stopped and thought for a moment. "You know, no it doesn't make you a lunatic. I can see anyone having those thoughts, thinking maybe they might not measure up to his expectations. And what if he's painted a picture of her in his mind as if she's a saint that no one can live up to?"

"Well, thanks for the encouragement," I said flatly. "Now I'm even more anxious about it."

"Don't be," she said. "I'm sorry, I was just blabbing. I mean, the guy clearly has strong feelings for you if he keeps coming back, you know?"

"Yeah." I decided to change the subject because talking about Harry and his late wife made me more nervous for our dinner date tomorrow. "How are things between you and Malcolm? Are you official yet?"

"Yeah, I guess," she said flippantly.

"What do you mean you guess?" I goaded. "Either you are or you aren't. And don't you dare leave anything out because it wasn't long ago that you were threatening me if I didn't divulge everything about Harry."

"Fine," she said. "Yes, we're official."

"And?"

"And what?" She said. "We're official. We're taking it slow, too. I mean, maybe not as slow as you and Mr. Hot Stuff but you know, we're not jumping in the sack right away." She looked at me to gauge my reaction. "We're thinking we need to wait at least a few weeks."

"A few weeks?" I laughed, pushing her shoulder so she fell over on the bed. "That doesn't sound like taking it slow to me."

"I'm joking," she said. "But Malcolm and I have known each other a lot longer than you and Harry. So don't judge me."

"Okay," I laughed.

Beth got up and left early Saturday, and I swear I spent the rest of the morning getting ready for my date with Harry later in the afternoon. I took far too long deciding what to wear; after that, I took a very long bath and made sure to exfoliate all essential parts of my body, even parts that I knew for a fact Harry wouldn't see. I put on my make up carefully and by lunch time, I was ready, even though we weren't really getting together for another few hours.

At 3:00, there was finally a knock, and I had to hold myself back from sprinting to the door. I casually opened it and smiled at the handsome man standing there. He had put his hair into a ponytail again, which I found indescribably attractive. He wore a plain white v-neck t-shirt but had a slim-fitting black jacket over it, paired with dark blue skinny jeans and tan boots, he was drool-worthy.

"Hey," I said, trying to tone down my excitement. "You look fantastic."

"So do you," he answered. I had chosen a dark teal-ish sweater with a simple argyle pattern across the chest and on the elbows and a little fringe on the hem. I added my extra-skinny black jeans and tall black boots. In general, I didn't want just anyone staring at my backside, but I wouldn't mind if Harry got a peek when I bent over strategically to retrieve some random dropped object.

Instead of just greeting me with a hug and perpetuating the illusion that we were just friends, Harry moved straight for my lips, kissing me more passionately than a Saturday afternoon warranted.

"Hi," I said shyly after we kissed.

"Hi," he chuckled. "Are you ready to go?"

"Yep, let me just grab my coat and purse." I locked my apartment door and followed Harry back down the stairs and out to his waiting car. He opened the door for me and I got in; as soon as the car started, Queen blared out of the speakers.

"Oh, sorry," he said, quickly adjusting the volume.

"No need to be sorry about blasting Queen," I said. He turned it back up a little, but I could see that he was trying to be polite by not blowing out my eardrums. "So where are we going?"

"Well, my favorite place isn't open this time of year. It's a fantastic open-air market with all sorts of farm-fresh produce, all local. But I found this little grocery store not far from my house that carries wonderfully fresh veggies as well." He stole a quick glance over to me and asked, "You're not a veggie hater, are you?"

"Not at all," I laughed. "Are we just having veggies?"

"No, I thought I'd make Pasta Primavera. For some reason, I've been craving it lately. Cathryn made it the best." He glanced at me again and said, "Sorry."

"Sorry for what, Harry?" I asked calmly. "I was the one who asked you to tell me about her, remember? It would be silly for me to expect you to never talk about the woman you spent eight years of your life with."

"Thanks," he said. "I just don't want it to be awkward."

"I think it would be awkward if you didn't talk about her, you know, if you just acted like she never existed. She was part of who you are, Harry."

"Again, thank you," he said, this time reaching over and squeezing my hand while keeping his eyes on the road.

It wasn't long before we pulled up in front of what looked like a hole in the wall, with the bricks of the facade decaying and crumbling. The sidewalk in front was broken and uneven, as it was all the way down the street. It was pretty standard for many areas in Detroit, sad, really. The city had become the poster child for neglect and decay but I still loved it. And with the recent restoration initiatives to revive the city, I was eager to see its rebirth. The store window was clean and neat, though, and the name of the store was painted in a neat, green arc: It's About Thyme.

"Clever," I commented on the name as Harry held the door for me.

"Very," he agreed with a smile.

Despite the less than eye-catching outward appearance, it was a tidy little store with a random assortment of items in addition to groceries. A stack of painted wooden crates housed scented candles with fragrances like apple pie and cinnamon sticks. Beyond that, there was a display of earth-friendly perfumes and jewelry. I stopped briefly to admire a pair of olive wood earrings; I wasn't big into dangly earrings, but they were cute and very unique. We moved on to the grocery section where we were greeted with the rich scent of coffee; specifically coffee with names that boasted things like Organic and Fair Trade, which in theory were all well and good, but I never saw fit to spend more money on those varieties unless there was a flavor I particularly liked.

"What are we looking for?" I asked, but only moments later, we turned a corner and we were in the produce section. As I began looking through the fresh vegetables, I was impressed to say the least. "These are amazing. I wonder where they get such good veggies when it's almost winter."

"See? That's what I was telling you. And they have home-made pasta here, too, which is why the Pasta Primavera will be exceptionally tasty tonight." We picked out zucchini, yellow squash, cherry tomatoes, carrots, a Vidalia onion, and two bell peppers, one red, one orange.

"It's going to be a very pretty dish at the very least," I commented and he nudged me playfully. After he chose some fresh herbs and a chunk of Parmesan cheese, I followed him to the aisle where he found the pasta, long, fresh noodles which I knew would taste infinitely better than the dried stuff you get from a box.

He turned to tell me he thought we had everything, and as an afterthought, he placed a sweet kiss on my forehead. He grabbed my hand and turned back towards the checkout.

Just then a woman came around the corner and stopped in her tracks. "Harry?" She said in a questioning tone, although she obviously knew it was him.

"Liz!" He immediately dropped my hand and went to embrace her in a loving hug. "How are you?" He said, stepping back.

"I'm doing all right," she said, nodding. "September was rough, but we managed. I imagine it was a tough day for you, too."

"I did all right," he lied. I might have laughed at that answer if it were more appropriate, but I kept myself in check. He finally turned to me and said, "This is Liz, Cathryn's older sister." Turning back to Liz, he said, "This is Regan."

I reached out my hand to shake hers and she reciprocated although she didn't smile or give me any kind of warm greeting. I guess I could understand that since Harry and I had been holding hands when she first saw us. It would make sense that she wasn't ready to see her dead sister's husband move on. "Nice to meet you, Liz," I said cordially. "I'm so sorry for your loss."

"Thank you," she returned in a civil voice. She glanced at Harry with pursed lips and then back to me. She asked, "So how do you two know each other?"

"We met at the Woodward County Library. I work there and Harry came in regularly for a while," I explained.

"I see," she said with a slight eyebrow raise.

"Well, it was nice to see you, Liz," Harry said and he leaned in to hug her again. "Say hello to your mum for me. I'd like to come by and see her some time soon."

"Will do," she said, giving him a beaming smile.

"It was nice to meet you," I said as Harry and I started walking. She said nothing in return.

After we checked out and got back into Harry's car, he asked, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, of course," I said, trying to sound like I meant it. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well, my sister-in-law just dissed you pretty bad. I'm really sorry about that. She was very protective of Cathryn and it took her a long time to warm up to me. Of course, by the time we were married, she knew that Cathryn was my world. I guess she's just not crazy about me seeing someone else just yet."

"Yeah, I get it," I nodded. And then I told him, "I had a hard time not laughing when she asked how you handled September, though. No offense or anything, Harry, but you weren't all right." After I said it, I thought maybe it was a bit harsh. He had just admitted to me a few nights ago that he attempted suicide, so he obviously had not all right. But maybe he was offended by me treating it so lightly.

After a moment of reflection, he burst out laughing. "I guess I wasn't, was I?" He was beautiful when he laughed. I wished I could see it more.

"I'm sorry, I'm not poking fun at you or anything."

He turned to me and took both of my hands. "I know, Regan. I didn't think you meant anything hurtful. It was just a gross understatement to say I wasn't all right, so I found it funny." I smiled back at him, squeezing his hand a little. "I might have told one of my closer friends about my breakdown, but Cathryn's family has it hard enough without having to worry about me, too."

"Well, good," I said. "Now drive. I'm getting hungry."

"Yes, ma'am," he replied and we headed back to my place.

Soon we were cutting vegetables and listening to a local pop station. Harry and I discovered that we both loved music of almost every genre so pop was as enjoyable as classic rock. I was only helping with the veggies because I was adamant that I didn't want to just sit and watch. He allowed me that simple task, but he insisted on taking care of the seasoning and the pasta.

When the vegetables were roasting in the oven, Harry got out a large pot to boil the noodles. I watched him as he got lost in the task of preparing our meal. He was so handsome with his defined jaw line, his stellar smile and those deadly green eyes. It almost made me laugh to think of him sitting in that chair at the library. Never in my wildest dreams would I have imagined he would be this charming after he groomed his hair and took a shower.

"Are you okay, Harry?" I asked when my thoughts went back to the awkward meeting at the grocery store.

"Of course, why do you ask?"

"Well, I just thought that maybe seeing Cathryn's sister would make you feel down, or maybe just make you think of her in general."

He stopped what he was doing and his eyes met mine. "Thank you for asking. I would say it is a bit harder when I see her family because I'm used to having her at my side. But I'm fine, really." He came around to where I was sitting, took my face in his hands and gave me a delicate kiss. "You're very sweet to be worrying about me."

When dinner was finally ready, my mouth was watering. While we were out, we had bought a bottle of Riesling to drink with dinner, and a sweet red wine for dessert. I poured two glasses of the Riesling while Harry served the pasta. We sat close to each other and toasted to our night together.

My first bite of pasta was a little bit like heaven. "Oh my gosh, Harry, this is fantastic! Why didn't I know sooner that you can cook?"

"I made you pancakes that first morning," he reminded me.

"Yeah, from Bisquick," I teased.

"But didn't you taste my little additions to the batter? Vanilla, cinnamon, and a dash of nutmeg," he said.

I smiled sheepishly. "I guess I was too busy marveling at the fact that there was some hot guy in my apartment making me breakfast."

"Hot," he said, swishing the wine around in his glass, not raising his eyes to look at me. "So you think I'm hot." I could see a bit of a smile playing at the corner of  his mouth.

"That's what I said." I took another bite to avoid having to say any more.

He just shrugged and said, "The feeling is mutual." Then he tipped his wine glass for a healthy sip.

After dinner, I switched the music to some low-key jazz. I dimmed the lights and poured the sweet red.

"Now, Regan," Harry said. "If I didn't know better I'd think you were trying to seduce me."

My jaw dropped and I put my hands on my hips. "I'm doing no such thing. I just like a glass of wine after dinner. With dim lights and sexy jazz. And a hot guy sitting on my couch."

He pulled me down and I fell, laughing, into his lap. "Is that so, Ms....You know, I don't know your last name."

"Flannery," I said, still giggling. "I don't know yours either."

"Ah, a very Irish girl with red hair and all. Mine is Styles. Harry Styles."

"That sounds very nice together. Harry Styles. I like it. You know, it would be the perfect name if you were a hairdresser."

"Are you mocking my name?" He asked with a surprised grin.

"Not at all. Like I said, it's a lovely name," I said as I held back a smirk.

We were both a little giddy but when he pressed his mouth to mine, all the silliness stopped and I returned the kiss with unprecedented fervor. Harry's hand traveled up my neck and to my cheek, holding me firmly to himself while his lips moved with mine. When he drew my lower lip into his mouth and released it, I felt a quiver between my thighs; when he dove back in and thrust his tongue forcefully against mine, I quivered everywhere.

He drew back momentarily, pushing me slightly to stand up off his lap. Then he pulled me back, directing me to face him while he guided me to straddle his lap. My knees sunk deep into the back of the soft couch with my thighs spread very indelicately over him. His next kiss felt like an attack on my senses as he pressed deep and hard into it while subtly rolling his hips, all the while kneading at my back. My hands found the soft curls at the base of his neck and I pulled gently at the elastic to release his ponytail. Massaging through his hair was just as enjoyable for me as it was for him, which he communicated to me by way of a rumbling groan.

Harry's hips kept rolling in such an erotic way, I almost couldn't handle it. We had to stop or I would be tearing his clothes off within minutes and begging him to take me, but I couldn't find the strength to stop. Slowly, Harry brought a halt to our momentum. He just looked at me, trying to catch his breath while I did the same.

Finally, I said, "We're lousy at taking this slowly, aren't we?"

I could feel his laughter throughout my whole body and in the breaths against my face. "I guess that's what happens when you mix jazz, dim lights and wine."

"Or it could just be that I really like you and I feel this intense connection with you," I said. "I know I said I wasn't ready, but I'm falling so fast that I can hardly catch my breath."

Harry's face reflected his shock at my confession. "Really?" He whispered.

"Yeah," I said. "I'm sorry. I'm not pressuring you. I just can't...ugh, I can't stop thinking about you. I just want to be with you all the time, especially like this."

His mouth dropped open like he was going to say something, but instead he kissed me again, this time not so aggressively but still in a way that communicated that he was moved by my words.

"I'd be lying if I told you that I didn't feel the same way," he said. "I'm crazy about you. But I'm confused, you know? My feelings for you are sincere, but I still have days when I still miss Cathryn so much that I can barely function. How do I know if there's a point at which I'll just be done grieving? I can't imagine not missing her anymore, but isn't it supposed to hurt less over time?"

"I don't know," I said gently.

"I don't know either," he said. "And I don't want to hurt you. Remember when I said I didn't know how to do this?" I nodded. "This is what I meant."

"I wish there was an easy answer," I said, pushing a long curly strand of hair out of his face. "I just want you to keep talking to me. Don't keep me in the dark. If you're going through a tough time, let me know and I'll take a step back. Or I'll move in closer, if that's what you need. I can be patient as long as you talk to me. Sound fair?"

"Definitely," he said, kissing me one more time.

As much as I didn't want Harry to leave, it was for the best. I walked him to the door and we shared a long hug before saying good-bye for the night. I couldn't help but think about how I had lied to Beth, and maybe to myself, pretending that we weren't getting serious yet.

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