Styles & Co.

Chapter sixteen.

Authors Note: 6136 words later, it is finally done. I am not even half satisfied with this chapter but I can't tweak it to my liking, so it is what it is haha. Hopefully, it works for you guys. Thank you to everyone who has kept up with the story so far and reads it, I really do appreciate the kind words, the feedback and the enthusiasm it receives. Really, I do. So, thank you so so so much. I love you guys. Xx

There are no warnings for this chapter. Just the usual explicit language/content.

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For the last few weeks, Harry has been stuck around the house, mainly forced to stay in bed and relax. He hasn't been into his office this whole time and it is killing him. He hates it. To a certain extent, I hate it, too.

He has no idea what to do with himself without work, in fact, he just lazes around the house with his phone or laptop close back so he can keep up to date with absolutely everything that happens in his building. He has Anastasia and Niall keeping him in the loop with everything, Niall calling him pretty much every hour to talk business.

I have to say, I am thankful he trusted Niall, otherwise, Harry would be an erratic mess.

I travel down the stairs of our house, curious as to where Harry has managed to get himself off too, he can't go too far considering he just took his pain meds, he was warned to take it easy, but I doubt he will be listening to his doctor. He is stubborn.

"Harry?" I call, not wanting to search the entire downstairs area for him.

I get a hummed response before his voice echoes, "Living room." I am informed and I wander my way towards the living room where I discover Harry, sprawled out on the couch.

I lean against the doorframe, "Let's set a date." I smile at Harry as he's lying on the couch with his phone in his hand, checking emails and whatever else. Probably annoying the hell out of Niall.

"What you talkin' about, love?" He yawns, his eyes not leaving his phone as I continue to stay perched against the doorframe.

My eyes lower towards my hand where I rotate my engagement ring nervously around my finger, appreciating how the diamonds glisten brilliantly in the light of our living room. "The wedding, Harry." I smile, ready to finally have a decent conversation about it. Now is a better time than any. "That thing that makes you my husband, the thing you got mad at me about because I didn't want to rush and pick a date so quickly?" I remind him of the promise that is on my finger that shows that we are, at some point, meant to tie the knot.

He glances up at me with a petite smirk, "Okay, when do you want to get married?" He challenges, sitting up with a bit of pain, his grimace breaking my heart.

As little girls' most of us plan our weddings in our heads, from the flowers to the diamonds, to the wedding destination, and the honeymoon.

I can't really say my ideas that I had when I was six and waltzing around the living room floor, are anywhere near similar to my concepts now. But, the one thing that is the same is that I don't want it to be in the dead of winter where snow falls and everyone struggles to find something suitable and warm enough to wear to a beautiful wedding.

"I'm not sure, I just don't want it to be in the dead of winter." I carefully sit on the couch, resting to face him, his head nodding in agreement.

"You okay?" I enquire, unable to disregard his slight wince as I try to get comfortable on the couch.

"Just my back," he clears his throat, "nothin' to worry 'bout, sweetheart. So, the wedding." He proceeds, finding a comfortable position as I try not to move too much. "If you want something warm, why don't we have it in a tropical place? Hawaii is nice." He proposes and I immediately shake my head.