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"Please tell me you're not actually considering this."
The moment I had Gemma's address in hand, I had stormed out of Louis' office to collect my team and dragged them all out to the cars. Niall was apprehensive to the idea as soon as I told him where we were headed next, but I being my stubborn self had already made my mind up. We were going to Harry's sister's house and there was no talking me out of it.
"Trust me, I tried talking her out of it." Louis pipes up, making Niall glare over at him.
Niall wasn't too keen on the pub owner tagging along, but really Louis didn't give any of us a choice. As soon as I had dipped into the backseat of the middle town-car, Louis was sliding in right after me, claiming he didn't want to miss this. Even with me telling him that Harry would know he betrayed him and Niall trying to shove him out of the town-car, he stayed put.
"Mabel, have you any idea what you're going to say to the man? Have you thought any of this through?" Of course I had thought this through, if taking thirty seconds to ponder my decisions was long enough. I didn't exactly have a speech planned or anything like that, but I knew the gist of what I needed to say.
"Niall, I appreciate your concern and I respect your opinion on the matter, but I have to do this. I may be completely mad and acting like some desperate little girl, but I'm crazy because I love him. I can't go on with my life knowing he's cross with me." With a large sigh, my eyes fall to the bouquet of flowers sitting in my lap.
On the journey over to Gemma and her family's Mayfair house I had us stop at a florist for some tulips. Thankfully, they had the exact colour that represented apology, thus why I held every single one of the white tulips the florist had to offer. Tulips were oddly enough one of the things that made me love Harry more than I already did. From the moment on our first night together where he stole that single pink tulip for me, I kind of already knew he was the one, and he remembered my love of the flower and even did research behind their meanings too.
"I'm going to say my piece and if he still doesn't accept my apology and if he doesn't share the same feelings that I do," what I was about say was hard enough just thinking, "then I will go on with my life and put this all behind me." I had to take a deep breath to keep the verge of crying at bay. The simple thought of Harry no longer being in my life was heartbreaking enough, god forbid he actually feels that way.
Truth is, the days that I spend away from him are dark days. Even if the sun is actually shining high in the sky for once, it still feels dark and dreary. I miss him a lot; more than I thought I ever would, more than I did when we were together and away from each other, because at least then we still talked.
I miss the way he breathes out my name after picking up his phone and although I can't see his face I know he's smiling. And that smile. I miss that adorable shįt-eating grin and that boisterous laugh that can cut through glass and make even the saddest person shine a smile. Of course along with his infamous smile are his perfectly adorable set of dimples on either sides of his face, something so playful for such a masculine man, but they suit him.
"We're nearing Gemma's." The moment those words leave Louis' parted lips, the fingers that are tightly wound around the base of the tulips immediately began to perspire and my heart begins to thump so loudly it makes me feel severely sick.
Will he slam the door in my face? Will he yell or cry?
"I know Harry," Louis begins, causing me to look across the expanse of the town-car at him, "and he may be angry with you, but deep down he truly loves you. I don't think he'll be able to let you go again. This break between you two has been killing him and he'd be foolish for forcing himself to go through it again."
"Thanks Louis." I try and send the man a smile, but it comes out pained, more like a grimace.
"But I'm obligated to take his side if things go sideways." His comment brings a real smile to my lips, thankful that Harry has such an amazing friend to stand by him, "You know if things do go wrong, you can always throw him in the dungeon and force him to love you back, Your Majesty." At this I shoot a death glare over at the jokester.
I love Harry, but I'm not some insane stalker or kidnapper.
"Perhaps I'll throw you in there with him; he may need a companion."
The sun is beginning to set in the sky as the town-car we sit patiently in slows in front of a burnt brick townhome in the residential area of Mayfair. The atmosphere around this area is rather peaceful, quiet even, not many people are out from what I can tell.
As I stare out of the window of the town-car, and Louis confirms that this is Harry's sister's home, I can't help but wonder what Gemma and her husband do for a living. I don't know much about the housing market in London, but I know for a fact that this place isn't cheap. It's three levels in height with a rustic exterior, yet modern touches with the black painted doors and wooden siding along the first level. The townhome right next door is an exact replica to the home of Gemma and her family, yet the foliage out front gives the place a nice personalized touch.
"What does Harry's sister do?" I ask, staring towards the windows of the house. The curtains are pulled back and light is escaping from a lamp in the front room. I can't see much more from my position in the car, as the windows on the first level are quite high.
"Gemma is actually a successful blogger for all sorts of relatable topics, mainly for women and feminist, but really she can relate to anyone. She writes about anything, from relationships and parenting to cooking; her recipes have changed the game."
"And her husband?"
"He's a writer; even has a few books published. That's what he makes most of his living from, but he's passionate about photography and art as well."
"Both lead very non-traditional work lives but apparently they've both excelled in their fields." I find myself muttering to myself, but apparently my comment isn't as quiet as I had planned.
"I'd say," I'm slightly startled when Niall leans over me to get a better look at the townhome, "this is a multi-million dollar property." With a shocked look at Niall's close proximity, and comment, a light blush creeps across his cheeks, which makes me smile. It's not often I make my head of security blush. "Sorry."
"And how much is your flat worth, Niall?" I ponder, slightly curious but also joking. Niall scoffs and rolls his eyes at my comment.
"Oh please, your family pays well, but not this well."
"And how much is your palace worth, Your Majesty?"
"Sod off, Mr. Tomlinson, sod off."
Within the next minute, myself, Niall, Louis, and three other guards have clambered out of two of the town-cars. I advise everyone to stay back by the cars, to which Niall starts to argue about my safety, but I order him to stay put. I am 100% sure there is nothing here that will bring me any harm, and if there is then it's my fault, not Niall's. I'll take the blame for that one.
Each step that I take brings me that much closer to the doorway of my future and I feel the nerves building bit by bit. With every step there's a new pep talk running around in my head:
You've got this, Mabel.
The worst that can happen is he slams the door in your face.
Deep breath. In and out.
Go get him!
The moment my knuckles make contact with the door I know there's no turning back. Despite the pep-talk I gave myself on the five-ish steps it took me to get here, my nerves are still high. Whether tonight goes positively or negatively in my favour, my life will forever be changed.
As the sound of rushing footsteps approach the door, my heart leaps and I take one last breath of fresh air before the door swings open. I put my best smile on, hoping to see Harry, but if not I'll still look friendly. But I'm not met with Harry. My eyebrows furrow when no one comes into view, that is until I hear a quiet hello from below eye-level, which sends my attention south.
There before me stands a beautiful young girl with large hazel eyes and thick, way brown hair that's pulled back from her face with a sparkly headband. She wears the cutest denim dress on her body paired with pale pink leggings covering her small legs. She can't be a day over six and I think I've already figured out who exactly this is without a proper introduction. Immediately, I'm kneeling to meet her eye-level.
"Hello there. What's your name?" I half expect her to cower away or shout for her mother, but she stands taller at my question, a quarter of her body hidden on the other side of the door.
"Blair."
"Blair. What a beautiful name for such a pretty girl. My name is Mabel." As if my name sparks something deep in her memory, her bright eyes nearly double in size as she comes completely out from behind the door. Her jaw is hanging open as she stares me right in the face, studying me closely.
"You're a princess! A real life princess!" She squeals. I remember Harry telling me of his niece's adoration for royalty and although I'm no longer a princess, I don't correct her on the title she blubbers out. Who am I to correct her?
"I am and I have a big favour to ask of you."
"Okay." She utters without skipping a beat, too in awe to question me.
"Is your Uncle Harry around?"
"Why? Are you friends?" Ah, children and their questions. Where would we be without them?
"Yes, dear. Your uncle is one of my best friends in the entire universe, but we had to keep our friendship a secret." I mumble, looking around as if making sure no one is listening in too closely. She, too, looks around before leaning in close.
"Why?"
"Well, because some people can be really mean and I don't want anyone to bully my friend. You don't like bullies, do you?" She immediately shakes her head as if the question was ridiculous to her. As she opens her mouth to reply to me, a deep voice echoes from beyond the door, sending my heart into overdrive. Even without seeing him I'm on the verge of breaking down.
"Blair Anne, what did mummy say about answering the door on your own?"
Nothing more is said from the young girl to me before she disappears in the home, leaving the opaque door abandoned and ajar.
"Mummy! Mummy! There's a princess at the door!"
Suddenly, with Blair's youthful voice shouting in the background, the doorway is no longer barren. The door is pried fully open, as I stand to my feet, revealing the man I am here to see. A silent gasp escapes my parted lips and it takes everything in me not to drop the delicate flowers on the pavement.
Desperately I want to be swallowed whole by the universe as his sad emerald eyes run over my body, pausing momentarily at the tulips in hand before freezing at my own two eyes. As hurt as he must be he looks good. He wears unwrinkled clothes, a pair of his favourite skinny jeans with a rip in the knee and a logo t-shirt. Those jeans once made me drool at the sight of him, but now they just cause a deep sadness. His hair looks washed, his appearance most likely presentable for the sake of his family, but I can see right through his faux image. His real emotion shines painfully in his irises, which look duller in colour than ever before. He still hasn't shaved, the dark hairs lining his jaw-line and surrounding his chapped lips is unlike him; after all, he always said he was unable to grow proper facial hair.
I'm rendered speechless, completely and utterly speechless, and not in a good way. I hadn't prepared a speech, well I kind of had, but it's gone now, so I settle on something simple.
"Hi." As soon as the single syllable leaves my lips I feel regret.
Why is that the only thing you could come up with?
Harry stares down at me as if I'm merely a figment of his imagination. Maybe he thinks I'm not here, an illusion, maybe he thinks he's gone mad. His eyes don't linger on me much longer before they travel to the small crowd standing and watching from the side of the road. I follow harry's gaze to Niall and then finally to his best friend, to which Louis' raises his hand in a silent wave.
Even without a word said from Harry I can already tell he's a tad angry with his best mate.
"Oh, I may have gone to Louis to track you down." I murmur, explaining his friends presence, even though he's probably already put two-and-two together. "I practically forced him, so please don't be angry with him." Harry looks thoroughly unamused, his eyes fitting back towards me as his muscular arms cross over his chest.
"What do you want?" My heart cracks a little right then and there, but I had prepared myself for an unwelcomed reaction.
"I'd like to talk."
"Talk?" He says, as if he's never heard of the word before. "We've already talked."
"Not really." My voice wavers, but I clear my throat to keep my emotions at bay. "We cried, we yelled, we didn't really have a real conversation."
"Well, I'm not really in the mood to talk with you, and I'm with my family, so..."
"Mate," Louis' interrupts before I even have time to answer Harry. "Giver her a chance to really talk. You two need to hash this out and soon, so the rest of us can stop being dragged into the middle of it all. You love her, she loves you, so figure your shįt out." My cheeks immediately redden at Louis' outburst and the look of slight defeat across Harry's face.
Never have I been so thankful for Louis and his personality.
Harry seems to debate what to do next; should he shoo me away or invite me inside? I feel like I'm holding my breath as I wait for his decision. I don't know how long we've been standing here. Seconds? Minutes? Time feels like it's standing still, that is until a new character shows themselves.
"Haz, why on earth is my daughter going on about there being a princess... at the... door..." A woman appears beside Harry's side and recognizes me in an instint, hence her words slowly disappearing into thin air. This has to be his sister; I can see the resemblance in some of their facial features.
Her words had faded away as her jaw grew slack. Honestly, the reactions of people that I get will probably never get old. The look on people's faces when they first see me is rather comical and keeps me sane in the worst of days. The woman quickly recovers though, her composure quick to be resolved and I'm impressed. She extends her hand towards me with a soft smile on her lips, still with a daze in her eyes.
"Hello. I'm Gemma Whitmore. It's a pleasure to meet you, Your Majesty."
"Please," I take Gemma's outstretched hand, shaking it firmly, "call me Mabel." She smiles in my direction at my informal greeting as I release her hand. "I am sorry to have just turned up unannounced by I needed to speak with Harry." Her eyes widen again as she quickly looks to her brother.
"My brother? Harry Styles?" I nod, unable to keep a smile off my lips. " This Harry?" She points to her brother in disbelief. "How do the two of you know each other?" I look to Harry, unsure of how to go about this question. Clearly, she knows nothing of our knowing each other, which means probably nothing of our relationship, so I'll allow Harry to answer her questions. They are siblings after all.
"Gem, you remember me telling you about Mary?" His eyes never leave mine and my smile falls a bit at the mention of my alias. What I would do to go back in time and never lie to him.
"That bįtch that broke your heart?" Despite her unknowingly calling me a bįtch, I still smile. I've only just met her, but I like her already. She reminds me a bit of Gwen, who would do anything in her power to protect me from someone who has treated me wrongly. "What does she have to do with anything?"
Harry says nothing, merely pointing in my direction. Gemma follows his pointed finger, her eyes landing on just the person it's motioned towards. I bring my hand up nervously and give her a little wave.
"I would be that bįtch." I fear she may faint from the shock of all the new information that's been thrown at her this evening. Luckily for us, she stands upright and conscious. Her eyes widen, yet again, and she's immediately shaking her head.
"He never called you a bįtch, by the way, that was all me. He's my baby brother and I'm very protective of him."
"I understand. I have younger siblings myself and I'd do anything in my power to protect them, as they would I."
"Did you know?" Gemma asks her brother, who is staring over at me. He releases a large sigh, glancing towards his older sister.
"He didn't know." I interrupt before Harry can even answer for himself. "I never got to properly tell him the truth. I was selfish and a liar and kept the truth from him." I say to Gemma although I'm staring right at Harry, who is avoiding my gaze. "You're right; I am a bįtch. I knew that if I told him everything we'd have to leave our little bubble of privacy and slight normalcy. I lied because I didn't want that, nor did I want to risk losing him."
For the first time since everything fell apart, Harry says something to me that's calm and collected. And as simple as phrase that it is, it still warms my heart.
"You're not a bįtch."
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