Song: "Fireflies" by Owl City

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When I woke up Sunday morning, I laid in my warm bed cocoon with a smile on my face for a long time, just thinking about Harry. I had told him the honest-to-god truth. I was falling fast and I didn't know how to pull the ripcord so I might glide safely to the ground rather than falling and having my heart smashed to bits. At the moment, I wasn't trying too hard; it was too exhilarating to be free-falling with a smart, sexy, funny, and beautiful man.

My daydreams were interrupted by the vibration of my cell phone. "Hey, sweetie, are you still joining us for brunch?" My mom asked from the other end of the line.

Shoot! I had forgotten that we were meeting at church for Sunday morning services and then going out to brunch for my oldest brother's birthday.

"Yeah, of course," I lied. "I don't think I'm going to make it to church with you, though. I woke up too late. Where are we meeting for brunch?"

"Do you even have to ask?" She laughed. We always, always, always went to IHOP. For brunch at least, it was a family tradition that we didn't dare break. "We should be there by 11:30."

"Okay, I'll meet you there." I hung up and jumped out of bed. A quick look in the mirror told me that I could probably get by without a shower. My hair was a little messed up by sleep - and by Harry's hands - but I could smooth it out and put it into a low ponytail. I changed into my favorite sweater, deep purple with embroidered flowers that stemmed from the bottom hem and bloomed around my bosom. I actually liked it for that reason, it made me feel like I had more in the chest department than I actually had. The flowers were subtle, so it wasn't gaudy or anything; the style just caught my eye and when I tried it on, I had to have it. I paired it with a black skirt with a lace-up design on the right thigh, which ended at the top of a somewhat revealing slit, but nothing that would embarrass me in front of my dad and brothers. With my tall, black boots, my outfit was complete.

I had the sudden idea to call Harry and invite him along, not stopping to think if it was too soon to meet the family. He didn't answer so I just left a voice message. "Hey, Harry, it's Regan. I was going to invite you to have brunch with my family this morning, but you must be sleeping. If you get this in the next half hour or so, call me. Otherwise, just call me any time because you know that I'll be waiting to hear from  you." I knew he was probably tired after wine and other things from last night; I knew I was. I smiled to myself again as I remembered sitting across his lap, kissing him so deeply.

Jerking myself out of my reverie once again, I finished getting ready and drove the 25 minutes to the one and only  International House of Pancakes, as far as my family was concerned.

It was always easy to tell if my family was there before me. It was hard to miss their gigantic van in the parking lot, and I could hear their chatter the minute I walked into the place. We were definitely a loud family, but no one seemed to mind that much, since the entire staff knew us and especially since my father was well known for his generous tips.

Martin stood up and received my hug. "Happy Birthday, Big Bro," I said. Pulling away, I handed him my card and tiny gift box.

"Thanks, Firefly," he said, smirking. It was a nickname he had given me when I was a baby. He was six and Charlotte was five when I was born. There was a firefly mobile over my crib that lit up and played lullabies, so when my parents would show Martin and Charlotte the mobile, they would say, "Look at the firefly," but Martin thought that was my name for the longest time. And it just stuck.

"Oh, hush," I laughed, gently pushing him away. I turned and greeted his girlfriend Ilana. He had been dating her forever and we were all wondering when they would finally decide to tie the knot.

I went around the table greeting everyone and then took a seat between Martin and my mom. The waitress came with two carafes of steaming coffee and told us she would be back shortly to take our orders. My parents had gotten all their questions out of the way when they took me out for dinner; now it was my siblings' turn to badger me.

Martin was the first to jump in. "So, tell me about the new guy, Firefly."

"Only if you never call me that in front of him," I groaned.

"I can't make any promises," he teased. "What's he like?"

"He's homeless," Sean interjected.

"No, he's not,  you idiot," I snapped at Sean, and then I turned to answer Martin's question, but Martin cut me off.

"He's homeless?"

"NO!" I now snapped at Martin. "I just told Sean that. Listen up, everyone," I said to everyone at the table. Then I told them all the story, from the very first day I saw Harry through last night. Well, minus the steamy details that were no one's business but mine and Harry's and that no parents wanted to hear about their daughter anyway. "So no more questions or comments about Harry being homeless, all right?"

"Okay," they all said penitently, like school kids who had just been reprimanded, which in turn made me laugh.

"So, to answer your question, Martin, Harry is kind of amazing - sweet, funny, sensitive, we have the same taste in music, and he's hot."

"Well, sounds like he's got everything a woman could want," Martin chuckled. "When do we get to meet Mr. Hotpants?"

"You and your nicknames," I laughed. "Well, we're not serious." Yep, I was lying lying when I said that, at least from my end. We were trying not to move too fast, but it was hard with the chemistry between us. "But we're definitely beyond the getting-to-know-you phase. I just don't know if he's ready to move on yet. It's just a little over a year since his wife died."

"Does he seem happy when you're together?" Martin asked.

"Yeah, he does," I said, blushing as I looked down at the stack of flapjacks that had just been set in front of me. My mouth started watering as I cut into them.

"Well, then I think he's ready to move on," he said, giving me a closed-mouth but bright-eyed smile.

"I agree," my dad said. "If you make him happy and he enjoys doing things with you, then it sounds like he's ready to move on."

My blush turned into a contented smile. "We definitely have a fantastic time when we're together. I just know that he has times when he still really misses her."

"Honey," my mom said, "he's probably going to miss her for a long time. But the worst pain is probably over, and the grief will soften as time goes by and he's able to let go. At this point, I'm guessing that you're helping him in the process."

"I hope so," I sighed. "Anyway, enough about me. It's Martin's birthday, so let's celebrate."

We worked on our respective breakfasts and then Martin opened his gifts. I had gotten him a small starter package for a Bonsai tree. I hated giving boring gifts or something that people had specifically requested, unless they really needed it. I had a knack for giving people things they never knew they wanted, but they usually ended up loving them.

"Cool, Regan," he said, wrapping his arm around me in a hug. "I've always thought Bonsai trees were kind of fascinating."

"As long as you don't kill it like you killed my cactus when I was on a business trip," Ilana teased.

"How exactly does one kill a cactus?" I asked in disbelief. "Those things are indestructible, aren't they?"

"It was outgrowing its pot, so I put it in a bigger pot," he said, defending himself. He looked at Ilana, stately loudly, "I was trying to do something nice for you."

"Sooo, a bigger pot is bad?" I asked, now thinking I should re-think my ideas about house plants.

"Well, that, and I used regular potting soil which doesn't drain as well as cactus potting soil. So the roots rotted away," he said, now seeming a little embarrassed. "But now I know how to take care of a cactus so it doesn't die!"

"Great," I muttered, playfully of course. I told Ilana, "Do not leave him alone with the Bonsai!" That made her and the rest of my family howl in laughter.

We finished our brunch talking - and sometimes yelling - across the table about anything and everything that was going on with the remaining seven members of my family, as well as with Ilana and Lauren's boyfriend Scott.

When we left, Martin walked me to my car. I was reaching for the door when he suggested, "So, maybe you and Harry could hang with Ilana and me some time."

I turned towards him and said, "Seriously? I think that would be great, but why are you so interested all of a sudden?"

"Are you suggesting that I haven't been involved enough in your life?" He asked, pretending to be offended. At least I thought he was pretending.

"No, you just never took an interest in any of my boyfriends before," I answered.

"None of them made you smile like this before," he countered.

I shrugged and said, "You got me. I'm just crazy about him. And yeah, I can ask him about hanging out. I just don't want him to think I'm moving too fast by asking him to meet my family. Buuut then again, I was going to ask him to come along to brunch today. He just didn't answer his phone."

"See? You're smitten, I can tell," he said, giving me a hug. "Just let me know if you two come up with a time that works."

"Sure thing," I said.

As soon as I got in the car, I turned on my phone to see if Harry had called or left a message. There was nothing. I missed him and I really wanted to talk to him. During the drive home, I battled with myself about whether I should try to call again or if I should just let it be with the one message I left. By the time I reached my apartment, I was dying to hear his voice. I figured I'd try one more time, but I wouldn't leave a message. I didn't want to seem overly clingy, I just wanted to talk to him.

Soon his low, raspy voice answered. "Hey, Regan."

"Hey yourself," I said. "Did you sleep in this morning?"

"Uh, yeah," he said. "Pretty tired from last night I guess." I could hear the smile in his voice at that point and I knew he was thinking about us making out on my couch.

"I just missed you, so I thought I'd call and say hi."

"I'd love to talk, but Liz just stopped by, so I'll have to call you back later. Is that all right?"

"Of course."

Only, he didn't call back later that day. Nor did he call on Monday or Tuesday. I started to get a little anxious by Wednesday, thinking he'd relapsed into his depressive funk, or worse, taken more pain relievers. I had no real evidence that he would fall back to that level, but I couldn't understand why he hadn't called me back.

I didn't want him to think I was upset or anything, so calling and asking, "Why haven't you called?" was out of the question. I wanted to be mature about this and not jump to any  conclusions, not prematurely, at least. So I finally talked myself into waiting until Friday before I called him again.

I dialed his number as I walked home from work Friday afternoon. But I only got his voicemail. "Hey, this is Harry. Leave your name and number."

"Hi Harry, it's me again. Just wondering what you've been up to. I haven't heard from you all week so I hope everything is okay. Hope to talk to you soon." I ended the call and hoped that sounded casual enough.

I'd only been home for about an hour when there was a knock. I peeked through the chain lock and found Harry with damp hair and no smile on his face.

"Hey, you," I said as I opened the door. "What's going on?" I asked.

He shoved his hands in his pockets and walked past me, into my loft. "Not much. I got your message so I thought I'd stop by."

I regarded him carefully. He seemed...awkward...like he didn't know what to do with himself. I was kind of surprised that he didn't hug me or kiss me right away, but he still stood with his hands in his pockets, making no move to take off his coat.

I stepped up to him and looked into his eyes. "There's something wrong," I commented. "You're not acting like yourself."

He shook his head slightly. "No, I'm fine, really. Maybe just a little tired."

"Harry," I said, pulling his hands out of his pockets and slipping my hands around his waist. "I don't think you're telling me everything." I closed my arms around his back, and in return, he wrapped his arms over my shoulders, but he didn't hold me close like he normally did. I pulled out of the hug quickly and stepped back. My eyebrows pulled into a frown. "Talk to me," I said.

"There's nothing to talk about, Regan. I just wanted to see how you're doing. Is everything all right?"

"Yeah, but it's clearly not for you."

"I said don't worry about me," he replied with an irritated clip to his voice.

"Fine," I said, swallowing hard. "Well, do you want to come in? You can take your coat off and-"

"I actually can't stay. I just wanted to stop in and say hello."

"Oh," I said, feeling the sting of tears in my eyes. I had to get him out of here before he saw me crying. "Well, call me when you want to hang out again," I said, opening the door.

"Will do," he said, giving me a tight-lipped smile. Then he turned and left. I locked the door behind him and burst into tears. Whoever that person was, it wasn't Harry at all. Or maybe that's who he really was. If that was so, I didn't like him at all. I cried for a little bit and then I tried to focus on something else.

This was the reason we tried to take it slow, so neither of us would get too involved or too far ahead of the other one. Obviously I hadn't found the ripcord in time and now my heart was at least battered and bruised, but not necessarily splattered all over the pavement. It hurt, but this would teach me to slow down if we ever saw each other again. 

* * * * *

I'm back. My grandma's funeral was beautiful and inspiring; of course it was also sad to say goodbye. If I can be half the woman she was, I will no doubt be a saint at the end of my life <3

Any guesses about what's going on with Harry?