It's You [H.S.]

12.1 | Forever yours

"Yes!", they both answer in stereo as she passes Eloise both her handbag and Harry's phones and wallet, given he's still busy trying to squeeze as much into the backseat as possible.

The Range Rover is already packed to the gunnels. With a speaker, keyboard, guitar, amp, mics and stands, and a pile of cables and adaptors, plus crates of booze, the boot is already full to bursting.

They have a very special guest lined up to perform a song close to their hearts for their first dance, and Harry didn't want to risk inadvertently foisting them off with sub-par equipment, so he insists on taking some of his own.

Suitcases, holdalls and garment bags fill the back seat, with both footwells stacked with boxes full of documents - guest lists and photos, and the printed orders of service, menus, welcome letters and NDAs aplenty.

"Right, well what else can I do, whilst you're on the road?", Anne asks Eloise, perched in the front passenger seat, programming the sat-nav.

"Umm, would you mind just double-checking the RSVPs to the email address again? And, with fresher eyes, check they've all returned the initial NDAs too? If you can then message one of us a list of anything still pending, we can chase them up via text whilst we're on the road".

In no mean feat, they'd whittled the guest list right down, ending up at about one hundred and sixty.

With discretion and security paramount, and, not least, the maximum occupancy of the hotel, they'd had to be fairly ruthless.

It'll just be family, their closest friends and inner circle, and trusted work contacts who have genuinely become proper friends, plus just a handful of other friends whom they agreed they would have felt terrible to bump into afterwards then have to awkwardly tell them all about it.

Everyone else will find out afterwards, and will just have to understand.

But, as a conciliatory gesture, they have already agreed to plan a big party in London, just before Christmas, to celebrate with everyone else. And they'll probably do something similar in LA in the New Year.

As Eloise rounds the bonnet again after dashing inside to grab some waters for the journey, Harry finally manages to close the boot.

"Right...!", he rubs his hands together, grinning as he spins to face her. "Shall we go and get married then?!". His playful nonchalance is offset by the intent look in his eyes as he smoothly hooks one hand around her waist to tug her closer, planting the other on her jaw and kissing her hotly.

Playfully shoving him off, she shrugs, feigning indifference. "Oh, alright then! Nothing else on this week... May as well".

His slap to her bum, for the cheek, has her skipping into Anne's embrace with a laugh.

He follows suit before joining her in the car and buckling up.

Through her open window, Anne calls out, "Drive carefully now! And make sure you take breaks often enough".

"Yeah, yeah, alright, Mum... We'll see you in a couple of days!", Harry blows her a kiss.

"Ooh...!", she flags him down again before he can pull out the gate. "And you're sure you've got the rings?".

"Now they were the first thing I packed, trust me!", he grins, dimples on show.

>

Despite hitting the last of the Monday morning rush hour traffic skirting London, they make it down the M20 to Folkestone in just under two hours.

After just a ten minute wait, they pull into one of the front carriages and are surprised to find they end up having it to themselves.

They chose to take the Eurotunnel to France for a few reasons, but, with a tonne of luggage between them, they knew they'd attract unwanted attention at the airports at either end, so figured driving would afford them the best chance of arriving at their destination incognito and with the purpose of their trip firmly under wraps.