"I find you to be miraculous. You're worth more than gold, songbird baby," I tell him, watching his green eyes light up.
"You are my golden girl, honeybee. The love of my life," Harry drawls slowly, adoration clearly plastered on his face, "I ador...
ɴᴏᴡᴘʟᴀʏɪɴɢ: One of These Nights by Eagles ────────────────────────⚪️───────◄◄⠀▐▐⠀►►⠀⠀⠀ 4:25/ 4:50⠀
"we're gonna find out pretty mama what turns your lights on..."
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The sun has fully set behind the hills when we pull up in front of Scarlett's house. The sky is a deep blue color, and the pinpricks of stars can barely be seen over the city lights and smog. A bright full moon casts soft light across the quiet neighborhood. Scarlett lives in a private subdivision close to the hills. It is a popular choice for many public figures. Her neighbors include the likes of Emily Ratijkowski and a couple of social media influencers whose names I cannot be bothered to learn. It will always be bizarre that my sister is a household name, on par with Gigi Hadid and Kendell Jenner. She rose to fame quickly after she was discovered, and because of great management and her hard work, she has continued to accrue impressive jobs, and with those jobs, she gained wealth and followers.
I thank my driver and make sure to tip him in the app, and close the door. While looking over my outfit one last time as I walk, I trip on a step leading to the front door. A big ugly scuff was on the toe of my boot which is worse to me than any injury that could have resulted from my clumsiness. Walking into a room full of people who are pretty and put together for a living requires a degree of perfection for my own self-confidence that I do not possess.
I let myself into my sister's house and make a beeline for the bathroom where I could try to repair the damage I did to my shoe. As I walk through the foyer, a new piece of art on the wall catches my eye, and I pause to look at it. Unfortunately, I am directly in Scarlett's eye-line, and she rushes over to me.
"You came! I thought you were gonna bail!" She throws her arms around me, and I am enveloped in a swirl of blonde hair, Chanel perfume, and her chiffon shirt.
"I'm a woman of my word, Scar! I told you I would come, so here I am." I smile at her, and she grabs my hand, dragging me along with her into the kitchen. Immediately she goes into hostess mode, figuring out who knows me and who doesn't while making sure everyone has enough to drink—the mark of a true southern woman.
"You know George and William, of course," she says, her South Carolina accent still ever-present in her voice while pointing out my brother and her husband, "and I think you know most of the other people who are here, but I want to introduce you to two people in particular."
"Where's LJ?" I ask, looking around for my niece. Lila Jane is 4, blonde, and maybe the smartest kid I have ever met.
"She's with Will's parents for the weekend. That's part of the reason we're having this party tonight." She explains.
