May 2019
Throughout my relationship with Harry, I've certainly had a few moments where I had to wonder how this was possibly my life. The first time it ever happened, I think, might have been the very first time he took me to see the little town where he grew up for Christmas. Then it was probably when we moved into our first place together. After that, it was probably when I learned that I was pregnant with his child, right before he released an album into the world that was all about me.
And now, I was on my way to the Gucci store on Bond Street, where my wedding dress was waiting for me to try on. I was fully prepared to go dress shopping just like every other girl in the world, but it was Gucci that reached out to Harry's team and asked if I might be interested in having them make me a custom dress for the occasion–if I might be interested.
I fully thought Harry was kidding when he brought it up to me, and I thought it was a cruel joke at that. But then he showed me the email thread from the creative director himself saying that he would love to make Harry a suit, and not just one dress, but two for me. The first would obviously be the wedding gown, and the second would either be the dress I wear for the rehearsal dinner or the reception. They even wanted to make a dress for Charlie, and I think I was honestly the most excited about that.
But as grateful as I was for the gesture, I was the happiest just to have my mom, Hazel, Gemma, and Anne with me for the special fitting. I only felt guilty because of the paparazzi, who had been relentless ever since my ring started making more of a clear appearance anytime I was seen out with Harry.
We had both realized that they figured out which neighborhood we lived in after following us home from the airport after our trip to Italy last November. More often than not, at least one of them was constantly waiting outside the neighborhood gate for one of us to leave, and that blew my mind. I would assume they had better things to do or more important people to see, but I guess not.
As soon as our small group walked up to the front of the store, the manager I had been in contact with opened the door for us, greeting us with the warmest welcome, and proceeded to lock the door on the paparazzi or anyone else who might try to come in. I couldn't believe that they went out of their way to close the whole store for however long it would take for me to try on both dresses or for the stylist to make any fitting adjustments.
"How are you, Miss James?" Giana asked me as she made her rounds to shake everyone's hands.
"Oh, I'm doing really well, thanks. How are you?"
"Good, I'm well, thanks for asking," her whole gracefully aging face lit up as she smiled under thick prescription glasses. "Are you ready to try on your dresses?"
"Yes, definitely ready," I beamed right back, unable to contain my excitement. Ever since I got the email saying they were finished and on their way from Italy to England, I was counting the days until I'd be able to put them on.
We followed her through the store space to the dressing area, which held a round, purple velvet couch large enough to seat everyone. The room was tucked away in the back, secluded from any and all windows to offer the privacy we needed.
Evelyn was practically already in tears as I handed her my purse so Giana could guide me into the largest fitting room. Both dresses were waiting for me inside, hung on plush white satin hangers with the gold Gucci logo printed in the center of the arch.
"Oh my God," I gasped with my hand flying up to slap over my mouth. "That's–those are mine?"
Giana laughed with her hand on my shoulder. "I hope that's a good reaction."
I shook my head with my hands on my cheeks. "They're so beautiful, I can't even–I mean, I knew they would be gorgeous, but...they're stunning."
"Let us see!" Hazel shouted from in the waiting area.
"Well, good," Giana grabbed the secondary dress first, "should we try this one, then the wedding dress after?"
"Yeah, of course," I stepped out of my mules and shamelessly started to strip down to my strapless bra and underwear.
With the long zipper undone, Giana held the dress open for me to step into, and very carefully lifted it up my frame so I could stick my arms through the long sleeves. The entire white dress was encrusted with perfectly streamlined Swarovski crystals, complete with a thin matching glittery belt that cinched my waist. It fit like it was made just for me because, well...it was.
"And these are for you," Giana held up the pair of simple, satin white Gucci pumps that I was meant to wear so that the hem of the dress didn't drag. Even though only the toes of the heels could be seen, the small initials S.S were painted in gold on the back of the heels. Stella Styles. That was going to be my name soon enough.
With the heels on, I turned to see myself in the mirror, muttering my disbelief under my breath as I checked myself out from all angles. If I had one fear, I guess it would be that I simply could not afford to gain a single ounce of weight between now and September; the dress fit that perfectly.
"Do you like it?" She asked me.
I scoffed to myself. "It's perfect, seriously."
"Good," she smiled in relief, I'm sure, and opened the door for me to head back out to the main room to show everyone.
Evelyn was the first to gasp, and I think she and Anne started to cry at the same time even though this wasn't the wedding dress. "Stella James," she shook her head at me. "Oh my God."
"You like it?" I asked, looking down at myself. "I'm not sure if I'll wear it for the rehearsal dinner or for the reception, but I mean...I'm going to wear it one way or another."
"Jesus Christ, Stella, what the hell is wrong with you?" Hazel sounded almost legitimately upset, earning laughs from everyone else. "Why do you look like that?"
"I don't know, but I'm going to have to stay looking like it until the day of," I vaguely replied as I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror to my left.
"You look, so, so pretty," Gemma confirmed, and Anne heavily agreed, saying something about how Harry was going to have a heart attack once he saw me in it. That only made me feel more excited to try on the actual wedding dress.
After letting my mom and Anne take a few pictures of me, I followed Giana back to the fitting room to change into the second gown. I was paranoid enough that I asked her if I could wash my hands first, and she directed me to a bathroom so I could do just that. Because of my own anxiety, I think, she used a pair of black latex gloves to help me put it on.
I stood there like a statue, watching through the mirror as she zipped up the low back for me, and I could feel my chest getting tighter the longer I stared. When I had the opportunity to sit down with the creative director to talk designs, I only had a very loose idea of what I wanted but otherwise trusted him to make something gorgeous for me, and he absolutely delivered.
The neckline was quite low and plunging, but it didn't look scandalous with the way the corset bodice was made out of a cutout floral pattern. Those same flowers made up the sheer long sleeves and were embroidered into the skirt and train on the dress. My one request was that the dress not be too dramatic with a full princess skirt, and it wasn't. Similar to the first dress, it was more fitted in my waist and hips to accentuate my curves but fell straight down my legs so that moving around was easy.
"Oh, shit," I turned my head up to the ceiling, willing my tears away. I didn't even want to touch the dress with my hands, let alone get a single mascara tear anywhere near it.
"Here you go," Giana chuckled as she handed me a handkerchief from inside her black blazer pocket.
"Oh, thanks," I dabbed under my lower lashes and turned to see the back of the dress. My entire back was exposed, which was another detail that I asked for if it was possible, and I thought Harry might like it too.
"Very stunning," Giana said, fluffing out the train for me.
"It's so pretty," I agreed, "like, better than anything I could have possibly thought of myself."
"I'm so glad," she chuckled with her hand on my bare back, then adjusted the train once more as I turned to head out through the door.
"Oh. My. God." Hazel fully stood with her mouth wide open, leaning forward with her hands on her knees. Evelyn echoed her but fanned her face and looked up toward the ceiling the same way I did to keep from letting her tears out.
"Stop, nobody cry," I let out my own tearful laugh, quickly raising the handkerchief to my eyes again.
All of them stood to come to see the dress closer from the front and back, and I let my mom FaceTime my dad so he could see it too. Out of my whole family, he and Sebastian were probably the only other two I trusted to see it before the actual day.
"God, is that my kid?" Rick asked through the phone. "That's not my kid."
Laughing, I took the phone to see him sitting at his desk at work with a sentimental smile on his face. "Do you like it?"
"Do you have a sweater or something you can wear?" He gestured to his chest, but I could tell he was joking when he laughed at my deadpan expression. "You look great, Stella. Really pretty."
"Thank you," I tilted my head at him before glancing down at myself. "I wish you were here, but I can't wait to see you in September."
"Me too, have your mom take lots of pictures if she hasn't already."
Evelyn defended herself to say that she already took twenty pictures in two minutes, and proceeded to take more once we said goodbye to him. Giana had me walk back and forth down the natural aisle in the fitting room just to make sure the dress was neither too long, nor too short.
"Oh, and look!" I lifted the train on the dress to show them the back of my heels. "For Stella Styles."
Gemma squealed quietly in excitement, and Anne had watering eyes as she stole a quick picture of the small detail. Harry has been calling me Styles for months now, so I knew he was going to love that.
Now that I had my moment, Giana went to retrieve Charlie's dress and the little flat Mary Jane shoes she would wear. Her dress was almost more extravagant than mine, with a full champagne-colored skirt, complete with glitter all over the chiffon fabric. The short sleeves were puffed like a princess dress would be, and I could see her squealing over the sparkles already.
"It's beautiful," I laughed as I held it up. "I'm sorry she can't be here to try it on, but she's at home sick with her dad."
"Oh, that's okay," Giana nodded. "We can have her come and try it at the same time you come back."
The last thing I wanted to do was take my dress off, but I felt bad enough that they had the whole store closed for me, which meant they were losing money with every passing minute. So I let my mom and Hazel take a few more pictures, then reluctantly retreated into the fitting room to change back into my clothes.
"So we will keep the dress locked up here, and you can come to try it on one more time before the wedding," Giana explained. "We'll have a seamstress here to make sure that no adjustments need to be made."
"Oh, okay great," I watched her carefully zip both dresses up into two separate garment bags, and she excused herself to take them into the back stock room where she swore they'd be safe. We made an appointment for me to come back two weeks before the wedding, and I thanked her profusely for all her help before we left and let her open the store for the public again.
The paparazzi waiting outside followed us all the way around the corner where our cars were parked, but as always, I ignored the questions about the engagement, the wedding, how Harry was doing, if he was recording his second album at Abbey Road, and my personal favorite, if I was pregnant again. I tried not to take offense to that in a physical sense.
"I mean, do I look pregnant?" I scoffed down at my shirt, now sat safely in the car with my mom and Hazel.
"Don't be ridiculous," Evelyn dismissed the idea with a flick of her wrist. "You look great."
"Yeah, well apparently not," I muttered as I slowly pulled the car forward, following Gemma's out of the lot. The plan was for them to have dinner with us at my and Harry's house, but I felt bad that he and Charlie both happened to be sick. Harry was just at the tail end of his cold now, but Charlie was freshly ill. It was a miracle I hadn't caught whatever they had, though I guess it was just a matter of time.
As we walked into the house, I could already hear Charlie's little squeak of a cough coming from upstairs. My mom said she would handle ordering the Chinese food for dinner while I went up to find both Harry and Charlie in her room. He had her in his lap as they sat up against her giant teddy bear in the corner, books scattered around them.
"Look who it is," Harry gasped softly, and Charlie looked up from her book to see me.
It took some effort, but she managed to push herself off of Harry's chest to come running to me in her onesie pajamas. I hugged her back, pouting at Harry as they both sniffled with a congested nose.
"How are you feeling?" I lifted Charlie in my arms just to walk over to sit by Harry so I could feel his forehead. He was just as warm as he was yesterday.
"I'm alright," he pinched his tired eyes closed. "I'm heading back into the studio tomorrow to see if I can sing, and if not we're gonna keep working on music anyway."
"Sorry you're sick," I pressed a kiss to the apple of his cheek as he rested his head back against the teddy bear. "My mom's ordering Chinese if that makes you feel any better."
He nodded with a small smile, coughing into his fist. "How was the fitting? Did you take pictures for me?"
"You're hilarious," I laughed at his smirk, knowing damn well he wasn't allowed to know a single thing about the dress. "But it was great, and all three dresses were gorgeous. I think she's really going to love hers."
"That's good," he started playing with my hair as I slouched down to lean against his chest. Charlie wiggled in my arms to turn and hug me instead, resting all her weight on me. "I was thinking about something today, about the wedding."
I shifted away from him just to see his face better. "What about it?"
"Well, you know how you've been stressed trying to think of where we should have it? And we both decided we don't want to do it in a church or anything?"
"Yeah?"
"I was wondering if maybe you'd want to have it here," he suggested, clearing his scratchy throat. "I know you were saying the last thing you wanted was for the paparazzi to get pictures of anything, so I was just thinking how private it would be here."
I blinked up at the ceiling as I considered it, wondering why I hadn't thought about it before. The house was certainly big enough to hold a reception, as was the backyard for the actual ceremony. Besides, it would be completely private for both us and our guests, and maybe having it done at our home would just make it that much more special.
"It's just an idea," he added when I had yet to respond. "We could also do that rustic venue that you were interested in, or–"
"No, I like the idea of having it here," I assured him. "That makes it a lot less stressful."
"Yeah?"
I nodded. "We wouldn't have to worry about cameras or the media, my parents will be staying here to watch Charlie while we're gone for the honeymoon anyway, and this house is prettier than most of the venues I've been to so far. We'd just have to have someone come and set everything up in the backyard."
He smiled like he was proud of himself for coming up with an idea of his own when it was just me planning everything so far. It wasn't that he didn't want to help, but he made it clear from the beginning that he wanted the whole thing to be what I had always wanted out of a wedding.
The funny thing was, I quickly started to learn that it wasn't about the colors, the food, or the venue and flower options. As much as I did want a gorgeous wedding, I would have been fine just getting a marriage certificate with the one witness we would need to be legally married. That was all I wanted anyway, was to just be married to him.
"What music are we gonna listen to?" I gasped. "Should I just hire you to play?"
His laugh ended up forcing him to start coughing with a smile still. "You're gonna make me play at my own wedding?"
"Well, it would only make sense," I shrugged. "I'm only marrying you because you're a famous musician anyway."
"Oh, good," he laughed with me as he sank down to rest his head on my shoulder, his hand now on Charlie's back as she fell in and out of consciousness on my chest. "I'm only marrying you for your looks, so that's fair."
"Hey," I pouted, apparently unable to take it the same way I could dish it out, and that sent him into a fit of laughing coughs all over again.
"At least you can take comfort in knowing that I'm not marrying you for your money," he shrugged. "Last I checked, you're kinda broke."
My jaw fully dropped as he laughed and reached out to lovingly hold my face. "Harry Edward Styles. That was mean."
"I love you," he chuckled and forced me in to kiss my pouting lips.
"I wish I believed you," I sighed dramatically, feeling him continue to laugh to himself.
"I'm sure you'll believe me once you hear the album," he kissed my shoulder. "It's getting there."
"Can you tell me what the songs are called?"
"Nope."
"What?" I slapped his chest with little strength. "Why, you think I'm gonna tell or something? Just at least give me a hint for one that's about me."
Exasperated, he rolled his eyes with a quiet laugh. "They're basically all about you, Stella."
"Okay well just pick one, and give me a hint," I smiled to myself, feeling smug with the reminder that it's 'basically all about me'.
"Alright, um..." he yawned in the process of thinking about it, glancing down at Charlie as she sniffled and turned to face him. "You know when we, like..." he made a hand gesture in place of the word, "for the first time? When we were practicing French?"
"I remember," I nodded. "What about it?"
He laughed. "There's no way you're going to remember this, but what did I say to you before we went to bed? You asked me to say another nice thing to you in French, so I did. Do you remember what it was?"
"Oh God," my eyes widened as I tried to recall exactly what was said the first time we ever had sex. I could absolutely remember the physical part, but we talked a lot that night.
"Told you," he smiled as he leaned in to kiss Charlie's head.
"No, no, I remember," I bit down on my thumbnail, glaring at the ceiling. "You said, um..."
"It's okay," his laugh was strained as he forced himself to his feet, then helped me by lifting Charlie up from my chest to lay in her crib so I could stand next.
"No, I promise I remember," I whined, now feeling awful that he remembered what he said six years ago, and I couldn't.
"Stella," he chuckled, "it was forever ago, it's okay that you don't remember."
My pout remained even as he pressed three consecutive kisses to my lips, and I was still thinking about it as we went downstairs to join everyone in the living room. Harry graciously laughed and kissed my mom's cheek when she asked him how he still looked so handsome even while under the weather, then kissed his mother and sister next. He teasingly went to do the same to Hazel, and she slapped his chest and told him to stay away from her.
He got a phone call from the front gate saying that the Chinese takeout had arrived, so he gave the guard the OK to let them in and excused himself to go and wait for them outside the house. Meanwhile, I helped set the kitchen table with the whole conversation still very much on my mind.
I wasn't listening as my mom teased Harry about how much he was going to love my two dresses, but I was staring at him where he sat across the table from me, next to his sister, as if his face might jog my memory.
I remember putting his sweatshirt on when we were finished, and I remember him telling me that he wanted to sleep with me before he climbed into the bed, and I do remember asking him to say something really nice to me in French, and I remember practically making out the whole rest of the night like it was the last chance we were ever going to get to do so.
"Yeah, I think we decided on having the wedding here, right Stella?" He pulled me back to the moment, catching me staring at him now.
"Mhm," I narrowed my eyes at him, and he started to smile his boyish smile because he knew I was still thinking about it.
"Oh, that's a lovely idea," Anne said, "I can just see the backyard being–"
I gasped and dropped my fork with a loud clatter on my plate, pointing accusingly at Harry and silencing everyone else. "I adore you!"
Harry covered his full mouth as he started to laugh, nodding in confirmation.
"We know you're obsessed with each other but Jesus, Stella," Hazel scoffed with her hand over her heart. "Gave me a heart attack."
"That's what you said to me," I smiled all proudly, disregarding the confusion from everyone else.
His smile got softer as he sipped from his water. "Six years later, still do."
My mom, of course, had to coo at how sweet that was, and I think Harry and I were both laughing because we knew she'd be horrified if she knew that's what he said to me after very much fucking the life out of me in my dorm bed, after she begged me not to even look at any boys while I was in school.
But I loved that it was our little secret, and I loved that he remembered it all this time later, and I loved that he was going to put it in a song, and that no one else in the world would understand the reference the same way we would, and I loved the way he was looking at me now the same way he did that night, and I loved him. Six years later, it was still him.