How It's Going To Be [h.s.]

Chapter 68

{Kate's Point of View}

My parents' house was darkened completely when I arrived home from the hospital. My father was away in New York City on a business trip. My mother was staying with my grandmother while my grandfather was in the hospital. For weeks I had craved being alone, but now that I was, I wanted company.

I walked into my childhood bedroom and turned on the light. I sat on the perfectly made bed and pulled off Harry's jacket. Despite the torrential downpour outside, his smell was still on the fabric. I felt the slick nylon of the bomber jacket as I turned it over in my hands. I saw the label on the inside: Louis Vuitton.

My phone vibrated in the pocket of the jacket. I pulled it out and wished for any name to be on the screen besides the one that appeared.

Harry: Did you get home okay?

Me: Yes.

Harry: Good. I wish all the best for your granddad. If you need anything, you know where to find me. H.

Harry had not signed his message with the usual kiss, but had included the "H." I stared at the tiny letter until I thought I might implode. He sent the "H" at the end as a stab at me, reminding me that we were no longer together. I was now subject to the standard signature at the end of a text symbolizing my departure from his inner circle and now needed to be reminded that I was, in fact, speaking to the Harry Styles as indicated by the "H."

I stood from the bed, put my phone on the bedside table, stripped the damp jeans from my legs, and put Harry's jacket back on. I slipped into bed and pulled the sheet and duvet up high. I fell asleep to the smell of Harry, the boy I equally hated and loved in that moment. I fell asleep to the "H" at the end of a text message. I fell asleep to tears in my eyes. 

____________

The early October morning was sharp; the air was unseasonably cold and if I moved too suddenly, my joints ached from the temperature. Harry had wrapped his scarf around my neck after I complained about being cold. He didn't even seem to mind my bad mood from lack of sleep. He held my hand to keep it warm and kissed my temple to cheer me up.

We crossed the tarmac toward the private jet Harry had arranged. My bag was heavy in the crook of my arm, but I didn't say anything because Harry had already offered to carry it twice. A flight crew was circling the plane and examining its exterior parts.

"I'm nervous," I mumbled to Harry.

He stopped walking and turned to me. "About what, love?"

"Flying in such a small plane."

"Baby," he cooed, "there isn't anything to be nervous about. People do this all the time. And I'll be right here with you the whole way. Everything will be fine."

"You're sure?"

"Absolutely," he grinned before kissing my cheek.

We climbed the stairs leading into the cabin of the private jet. The interior was impressive with wooden accents and cream leather. There was a strong smell of citrus. Toward the back of the plane, I could see flight crew moving small boxes around and securing latches on doors and cupboards.

"Kate," Harry took my hand, "I'd like you to meet Captain Daniels. He's our pilot."

"Good morning, Miss Wright. Good morning Mr. Styles."

"Hello," I smiled.

"Mr. Styles?" a timid, feminine voice came from behind us. "Could I get you anything before the flight starts? Tea, water, juice, coffee?"