Princess in Training (Prince Harry #3)

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Meredith stared out the white curtains as the sun arose, and she rose too. Harry still slept, not yet forced back to reality, and Meredith didn't wish to break the current peace. Harry never much yelled at her, like ever that she recalled, so last night was a wake up call. She never much like to be yelled at, like most people, and tears burned her eyes.

Philip certainly didn't want Harry to act this way, but Meredith didn't throw that back at Harry. This was hard for him, she repeated in her mind, but it didn't help her. All the times she repeated it, it meant nothing after a while.

As she sat in the television room and read the mornings newspapers, she heard Harry move upon her. He didn't know how to be quite or the flat was just that old. She heard him walk across the bedroom and into the bathroom, where the door was closed gently. Thankful it didn't slam, Meredith made this positive in her mind. Her eyes scanned the page in front of her nose, but once again she took no information in, especially as the movement began again upstairs.

Harry stood in the doorway of the television room. His pale skin and sheepish look meant to show an apology, yet Meredith wasn't in the mood to look up. It was far too early in the morning for an argument. If she ignored him, she hoped he might go away.

Wrong she was as he stood in front of her, waiting.

With pursed lips, Meredith flipped her dirty hair back and looked up at Harry. "Good morning."

"Mere, I'm sorry." He sat down on the coffee table. Harry's hands went back and forth, like he wanted to hold her hands, but by the look on her face, like hell that was happening. "Really, I am. I acted stupid and I was wrong."

"You're in mourning." It wasn't an excuse. "But you don't get to be a dick."

"I know." A smirk pulled at his lips.

"I want to understand, Harry, but I can't if you don't speak to me. And no, I don't know what's going on half the time. That's your job to tell me, Harry. You promised me when I said yes that we'd do this together, so don't leave me out."

"I know, and I'm sorry."

She contemplated it in her head. A lot had changed since last night, and she wasn't sure if she forgave him. But she knew the difference between forgiveness and forgetfulness. Forgetfulness was bound to happen, and this was only a bump in the road. So she sucked it up. "I accept."

Her voice was tight, and Harry didn't believe her. "Mere, I really am sorry. It's not acceptable. I shouldn't have yelled. I'm sorry."

"I accept." Meredith stood and went into the kitchen.

Harry followed.

"What?" she asked as she shifted through the fridge.

"I don't believe that you accept."

"And you think pushing it will make it better?" She poured milk into her coffee. Still tasting bitter, she put sugar in. "You know I don't like to be yelled at. You know that I don't like to be placed in positions like this."

"What position is that?"

"Vulnerability, Harry. We're going-- the monarchy-- people-- everyone," she listed, "are going through a tough time because of Philip's death. You are going through a tough time, Harry, but I don't know what the fuck I'm doing. You said you would help me. Do you remember?"

"Yes."

"I am vulnerable, Harry. No one likes the feeling, but I hate it. I am thrown into the wolves of cameras, and I don't know what I'm supposed to do. I follow your lead, but where the hell are you going, Harry?" she asked. "How am I supposed to act? They dress me up so at least that's one thing I don't have to worry about.

"You're grieving, I know, but I am going in blind. Help me."

"I want to."

"I want to help you too, so you have to speak to me on how you feel."

"I feel angry."

"I know. Are you angry at me for taking you away-- for missing his death?"

"No. You didn't know this was going to happen, obviously, Mere, but he was old so I should've stayed at his side. I am angry at myself, Mere. I should've stayed. And it was my idea to go to Minnesota anyway." His eyes teared up. "I wanted us to go because I did't know the next time we'll be back. I blame myself for taking you away from your life and friends, so I was trying to give it back to you."

Meredith arched an eyebrow. "But-- why?"

"You seemed sad sometimes or angry, and I didn't know why. I didn't-- and I don't know how to bring it up. I thought you might be missing home or your friends," Harry said. "You threw yourself into work here and you never like being home and alone. I was trying to give something back to you."

"Thank you, Harry," Meredith responded sincerely, "but honestly I am just trying to prove that I am good enough for this family."

"You are good enough."

"I don't feel it, Harry. I don't care what the fucking paparazzi say. I don't care about what random people on the internet say. But I care what you think-- and sometimes what your family thinks-- because I want to prove I can do it. I have to prove to myself that I can do it."

"Why?" he asked.

"I hate change, Harry, and I have made a massive change. I graduated from university. I got engaged. I moved to a different country. Now I'm going to be royal, and eventually-- fuck, soon enough-- I'm going to have a kid."

Harry sighed. "We don't have to have a kid right now, or in a little bit. I mean, you've got some time."

Meredith laughed. "That's what you get for marrying younger, Harry. I've got a bit of time." She patted her lower stomach. "How am I supposed to act today?"

"We're supposed to act like we're in grief. It isn't difficult."

"But we don't cry publicly. We don't get angry publicly. We are neutral, even in someone's death."

"Yes."

Sighing, Meredith shook her head. "You know this is why people call you guys robots, right?"

"Yes, and now you're part of you guys."

Meredith rolled her eyes. "We don't have a lot of time to talk today, and we don't have time during the day." She stepped beside him and placed a hand on his face. "But tonight, we will speak openly."