Nothing Good Gets Away

Chapter 70

HARRY STYLES

When we talked about our honeymoon the first time around, Rowan and I originally wanted to go somewhere tropical if we would travel in October. We thought it'd be nice to take advantage of warm weather before the winter came...but then we remembered that we live in Malibu California, where the sun is shining every day and all you ever really nice is a light jacket at night during the coldest months.

So after some more back and forth, we ultimately decided that rather than trying to escape the fall and winter, we'd rather embrace it and spend a week in a place where the leaves change colors and we can take full advantage of the season we otherwise don't really get to experience in California. That's how we ended up in Paris, and I couldn't be happier about it now that we're here.

"Do you think we should have stayed away for the flight?" Rowan asks as the plane slowly rolls to a stop before our gate. "Now our sleep schedule is going to be all messed up."

Through a yawn, I say, "Who said anything about sleeping while we're here?"

She smiles tiredly in my jumper with a few tangles in her fine hair from how she slept. "You're so right, what was I thinking?"

"I have no idea," I scoff, making her laugh as we stand to get our bags and step off the plane.

Regardless of how groggy she is, she still squeaks in excitement at the sound of someone speaking French over the intercom in the airport. I think that's when she starts to feel more awake as she takes my hand and we find the baggage claim together.

It's strange to feel like we missed a whole day, seeing as we left in the middle of the night in LA and arrived after sundown here, but the city seems to still be very much alive at 8:00 as we hail our taxi to take us to Rowan's parents' penthouse in the middle of Paris. We plan to settle in a bit before we change to go to dinner, but I think if it were up to me, we'd just stay in for the rest of the evening.

Rowan's parents' flat is, of course, absolutely stunning even from the outside. The architecture of the white stone building is traditionally Parisian, and the interior is much of the same as she uses a key to let us into the lobby. The damp bottoms of our shoes squeak on the polished mosaic tile floor as we drag our luggage to the lift, and the whole building smells of coffee and something sweeter. Rowan explains that it's coming from the bakery next door.

The lift only stops at the very top of the 28-floor complex, and then we step out to be met with a white hardwood door. Rowan unlocks the flat for us and feels around the wall to switch the spotlights in the lofty ceiling on. The place is tremendous, and there's something incredibly regal about the decor. It feels simultaneously aged and renewed, and I can't believe we're about to live here for the next week.

"Jesus Christ," I laugh to myself as Rowan crosses the living room to pull the linen curtains apart, revealing none other than the Eiffel Tower shimmering in all its glory so close to us. We couldn't have a more perfect, unobstructed view.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Rowan scurries back over to dim the lights so we can see the tower better.

"It's something," I follow her back to the window, dropping my hands on her shoulders as she stands in front of me. The funny thing is that I never really cared for Paris as much as I think a lot of other people do, but being here with my half-Parisian wife is starting to change my perspective just a bit.

"How are you feeling?" She tilts her head to look up at me. "Tired?"

"Not at all," I kiss her cheek. "I'm ready to go to dinner if you are."

"Mhm," she turns in my arms to reach up on her toes. "Come see our bedroom."

Not needing to be told twice, I let her pull me past the spacious living room, through a library with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves and a black grand piano, and down a wide hallway with herringbone hardwood floor. We pass a few closed doors on either side of the hall until she opens the one at the very end.