"What did you just say?"
If they were standing in the middle of a field during a wind storm with a marching band surrounding them in a circle of music instead of a kitchen, her confused tone would have fit right in. Instead, it was strange and out of place the cozy kitchen where Anne was stirring her cup of tea on the counter. Harry didn’t point out that her coffee mug was sitting there filling with coffee at the same time. If his mom wanted one in each hand, that was fine by him. As strange and out of places as it sounded, it was not unexpected. But Harry, always a fan of dropping bombs like they were casual salutations, sat perfectly cool at the table.
Breakfast had finished and Sydney had left the two of them to shower and dress for their drive back. Harry had started his second plate of eggs and toast, and casually mentioned his plans for the future in between bites. "I said I’m going to start looking at engagement rings this week," he repeated with a mouthful of food. Truly, sometimes he was still a teenage boy. Maybe it was being home again.
Harry had said plenty of outlandish and ridiculous things to Anne in his life time ("I just pierced my own ear in my hotel room!" "I’m going to buy a watermelon farm." "I think we should put a sauna in the garden!" — there were among his greatest hits.) but he had never said anything like that before. Which is why he didn’t mind repeating the words and putting his fork down to look at his mom while he wiped his mouth. "I want to get it just right so I feel like the sooner, the better. That way I’ve got time to find the perfect one. What do you think?" The question, what do you think, was as much about the whole weekend and Sydney as it was about the ring idea.
This was not the first time he’d brought a girl home. It was not the first time he had sat at the table to discuss one of them with Anne either. "I really like her, mum," had grown into "I love her," over time, the more he matured and accepted his feelings as they came. The older he got, the more he knew what he wanted. But the ever elusive engagement talk was yet to be seen between mother and son. Anne was used to this: "We’ll see. I mean, I love her, I just don’t think we’re there yet." And now she was being hit with a ton of bricks, the conversation she had probably daydreamed about more than Harry. While his mother was gracious with her son and his habits of falling in love with the wrong people, both of Anne’s children knew what she longed for. Never would she rush them, never would she breathe a word of her desire to be a grandmother or see her children married. She didn’t have to say the words though, both children could tell what she meant every time she commented about how lovely one of her friends’ children’s wedding was. Gemma and her boyfriend were in no rush, so that left one option. Harry.
Now they were sitting across from each other, Anne was shaking her head at her son, and Harry was offering up a halfcocked smile. "What?" He asked her again, laughing it out. That was the relationship between them most of the time. Anne shaking her head, Harry acting like he was clueless when he was the cause.
"Well, I think that she’s lovely, Harry. I know I’ve certainly not heard you talk about anyone like this before." Nailed it. "You definitely seem lighter around her, not so heavy. I think that if you’re only going to start looking…" his mother trailed off, giving him a warning look. He knew it from a kid shaking gifts under the tree. It said: do not open until Christmas, do not propose just yet.
Harry held his hand up in agreement, to silence her before he got a full lecture. "Okay! I know, I know."
"If you’re just going to be looking," Anne started again as she gave a swat to his hand, "I think that’s a wonderful idea. She’s very sweet and I like her. A lot. She has wonderful taste in wine."
Above them the shower turned off and he leaned back into his chair, letting his long legs stretch under the table. His foot pushed against Anne’s chair and he applied enough pressure to inch her from the table and cause the chair to scrape the floor. Enough to annoy her. He was still her obnoxious son, after all. Another warning look caused him to cackle, Anne joining in quickly. "I like her too," he said with a smile still on his face. "I love her. I mean, I just feel like I can be myself with her more than anyone else. There’s nothing bad with her; it’s easy. And you have to admit that she would have gotten along wi-" The sound of footsteps coming made him straighten up and push to his feet to clear his plate from the table. "If everything goes the way I hope it does, we’ll put the album out in February." He changed the subject and turned to smile at Sydney, leaning in to press his lips to her forehead.
Later, when they were loaded in the car with their things and headed back to his home, he reached over to take her hand. "Y’know what my mum said? That she likes you a lot and you have wonderful taste in wine. Wouldn’t lie to ya," he smiled before bringing her fingers up to kiss.
