Princess in Training (Prince Harry #3)

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Returning back to their Kensington Palace apartment late, Harry hadn't spoken much. They both needed sleep, but Meredith couldn't keep it in any longer. "Harry?"

He paused on the stairs but didn't look up.

"Can we talk?" she asked sheepishly and immediately hated her voice. This wasn't the time to be scared. This was a time to stand tall. "Now." Her voice was strong-- a command. But Harry whipped around, anger flaring in his features, and she had been too harsh. "I'm sorry, but we should speak."

"About what?" Harry came down the stairs to stand eye to eye with her.

"You're angry. Are you angry at me?"

"No!"

"Is that why you're yelling?" Meredith kept her voice perfectly still. "It's okay to be angry."

"I'm angry at everything, Mere! Not just you!"

"But you admit that you're angry at me?" Meredith believed this anger to be misplaced, but she didn't argue that. "Why are you angry at me?"

"I should've been in Balmoral with him, Mere-- with them. With my family! But I was with yours. I knew he wasn't well, and I went anyway. I went across the world."

"So you regret saying yes to coming back to Minnesota with me?"

"What did we accomplish in Minnesota, Mere?" he asked. "I don't even know why you like going back there. You love London and you love Scotland. You don't care for your mother, and it seems like you don't even communicate with your dad much. You didn't even tell your friends you were going back, so why did we go?"

Harry waited for an answer that Meredith never gave.

"Oh, so be silent. You've been doing that all day and it's been very helpful," he snapped.

"I was trying to give you space," she said.

"I didn't want space, Mere! I wanted you to stand at my side. I wanted you to tell me great things. I wanted you to distract me!"

"I can't distract you, Harry." Meredith hushed her own voice. It wasn't time for her anger. "If you are distracted, you won't heal. I need you to heal. For so long you kept everything held up inside about Diana, and I wasn't going to let that happen with your grandfather."

"You helped me start to open up about my mother. You! And you abandoned me today. Suddenly you were gone."

"You left with William!" she screeched. Immediately she regretted it, but this only wound Harry up.

"He's the only one who understands, Mere! He has been there through everything. He knows what it's like to be royal. He knows what it's like to lose our mother. He knows the pressure. He understands!"

"I want to understand, Harry."

"But you can't!" Shaking his head, Harry had nothing left to say. He took two stairs at a time, bounding upstairs. And Meredith was left standing there in the front entryway.

Staring at the floor, Meredith heard Harry stomping above her. Doors creaked open and slammed shut. It was always said that married couples shouldn't go to bed angry, but joke was on that because they weren't married yet. This continued on for the next five minutes until she heard nothing.

She didn't go upstairs, not with her anger still fuming. Tiredness rocked her body, and her feet dragged across the floor. She wanted to shed the dark and heavy clothes that she wore, but she settled for shifting through the refrigerator. Meredith hadn't eaten for most of the day, but her stomach didn't rumble with hunger. She had felt sick to her stomach for most of the day. Even so, she moved through the fridge and cupboards, yet there was nothing that caught her eye.

Pacing around the kitchen again and again, Meredith checked the clock, and it only neared ten at night. Her body felt like she had been up for the past week. Forty-eight hours was close enough.

Meredith climbed up the stairs, trying to make as less sound as possible. She poked her head in first, and Harry slept soundly. Stepping into the bathroom, Meredith then stepped into the shower, letting the hot water roll off her skin in tiny beads. Her body seemed ballooned, taking up too much space. Pressing her body, she skin, hoping to deflate.

Peering at herself in the mirror after the shower, Meredith still found herself to be a heap of skin, bones, organs and fat. She pulled at her hair with a brush, and it curled instantly. Blue blood vessels mixed with tan freckles that formed around her eyes, which had started to turn red. The green of eyes popped more.

She sighed. "Well, what did you expect, Meredith?" 

Meredith didn't even know anymore.

Defeated, Meredith climbed into bed, which felt empty even with Harry beside her. It was large with warm sheets, but in the dew against the window of a London night, she felt the heat. If there was a chill in air, especially with the anger that was apparent between Harry and her, she didn't feel it. Her clothes had been put down to just a tank top and short-shorts. Meredith stared at the ceiling again.

Eventually her eyes shifted to Harry. He slept on a chest, which he rarely ever did. His back moved up and down at an even pace. While the hurricane of emotions, Harry fell into the tiredness that wrecked his body. It was the same that hurt her body, which made her joints groan.

Meredith continued to watch him, hoping that he might wake up, suddenly have something to say to her that didn't hold any anger. Meredith knew better. Harry was kind and caring, but she hadn't seen much of him like this. Harry was loving and funny, but everyone had a darker side. Grief brought out the worst in people, but Meredith wanted to show him the best.

Closing her eyes and rolling over, Meredith stared out at the window, which was covered in the same thin shade as usual. The drape wasn't allowed to be pulled back or someone might see inside. It was all a question when might people see them for who they really were.