Chapter 53 - Hamptons home & mumbling mess

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I really wasn't planning on sleeping the entire ride to the Hamptons. Especially not after Harry pulled up in his Audi R8 that I hadn't seen him driving in absolutely ages. But, somehow, I managed to drift off to the low purr of the engine and Harry's soft music playing on the stereo instead of staring at him the entire time.

It was only when the gravel crunched under the tires that I woke up, sleepily wiping at my eyes to try and gather my surroundings. The road wound through a patch of trees, behind which I could see stone peeking through and a towering chimney poking up.

"You're not allowed to describe things anymore," I said as we turned a sharp corner. The stone house loomed in front of us, stretching out across a wide green lawn behind the mini gardens. To the side, a small garage held an array of shiny cars. "'A summer home'," I mocked. "This is a castle."

Harry hummed in response, whipping the Audi in behind an old white Mustang with ease. "Vacation home, I'd call it."

"Palace?"

"A getaway," he replied, opening his car door. I scowled as he strutted in front of the car, pushing his aviators up on the bridge of his nose with the house looming behind him, looking effortlessly like a Calvin Klein model. He opened the door and offered me a hand. "And alternate residence, maybe."

"I," I announced as I rose to his height, "would absolutely hate you if I wasn't so endeared."

Harry grinned, soft curls whipping at his face. "Darling," he drawled, "so sweet today."

He offered me a hand, effectively cutting off my sputtered response, and led me up the cobblestone path. On either side, magnificent gardens decorated the lawn (somehow blooming despite the fact that it was below freezing outside), while a marble fountain flowed quietly in front of us.

Despite its grandeur, the house actually felt more like a home than his modern flat. I felt more at ease than usual as he clicked his key into place swung open the heavy oak door. The walls were painted a soft cream colour and sun streamed in through the floor-to-ceiling windows, glinting off the vases of fresh flowers.

Harry tightened his grip on mine and led me through the entry way, which opened up into an expansive open layout, decorated with warm colours and more flowers that filled the air with a vanilla, homely scent. "Is this okay?"

I gaped up at him. "Harry, this is amazing. Seriously."

"Good," He replied, inspecting around the room for some microscopic flaw that I was pretty sure didn't exist. I'd actually become convinced that flaws didn't exist when it came to Harry Styles related things. Except for the whole issue with commitment.

But that was potentially no longer a problem considering he knew what kind of chapstick I wore.

"How often do you come here?" I asked suddenly.

He shoved his hands into his pockets with a shrug. "Not often as I would hope. Too busy. When Gemma and my mum come though, we usually stay here. They prefer this over the city."

I grinned up at him. "Yeah? How often do they come?"

"Once or twice a year," he said. He gestured towards the grand staircase winding up one of the walls. "You can look around, if you'd like. I just have to make a few phone calls and then we can make some lunch."

There was a dead beat of silence before his eyes widened and he quickly backtracked. "No. Not what I meant. I mean that I will make lunch and you will sit on the counter and try not to get in the way. I wouldn't want to burn down my humble adobe."

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