Prince in the City [Harry Styles AU]

Chapter 45

This is it.

This is the end.

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Chapter 45

Prince's POV:

The first time I had visited New York, I was around ten years old when my family traveled for some charity tour or another, one I could hardly remember. I came over to New York a few more times after that, though nothing eventful or memorable took place. Except the time I went when I was twenty-four, I managed to meet one of the most important people in my life. All I had wanted to do was stay in New York for a year by myself and revel in what one of the greatest cities in the world had to offer me. Never did I think what it would offer me, would end up becoming—as horribly cliche as it sounds—the love of my life.

Didn't Alicia Keys sing about this being where dreams were made of? After meeting Vera, I can't help but concur.

However, as much as Vera and I loved New York, it really wasn't allowed to have a royal wedding anywhere but England. So Westminster Abbey would have to do.

"I think I'm gonna throw up," Vera breathed out, squirming as she spooned at her bowl of ice cream.

I quirked an eyebrow, smiling a small smile as I mused, "the ice cream gettin' to ya?"

"The wedding is getting to me," Vera responded, licking her lips as she faced me. We were sitting on the grass on the palace grounds, the weather surprisingly pleasant for London, as a cool breeze tickled my skin.

"Cold feet?" I joked, though there was a light tug in my heart as I uttered those words. We've been engaged for a near eight months now, and the wedding was just a week or so away and everything was in the process of being finalized. That doesn't mean Vera didn't still have a chance of rejecting it—not that I thought she would. She's been so excited about getting married, much like I have, both of us impatiently anticipating married life, and I hoped I was just being stupidly paranoid.

"God, no!" Vera instantly denied, throwing me an incredulous look as I instantly relaxed. "It's just—okay, it's my wedding and obviously I'm excited and nervous—I mean, I get to marry you," she emphasized with a grin, squeezing my knee. "But, like, this is even bigger than a normal wedding, you know? I mean. . . It's being broadcasted worldwide and what if I trip or something? I'm gonna make a fool out of myself in front of millions of people and that—"

I put my bowl down and faced her, hands reaching up to cup the sides of her face as I soothed, "hey, hey; breathe, love." Vera pressed her lips together, letting out a breath through her nose as her gaze locked with mine. "You're not going to trip. You're not going to make a fool out of yourself—you're going to be the most beautiful bride and the world's gonna see that."

Her cheeks dusted a light pink, skin warming under my own as my smile widened at the sight of her grateful one. My hands went from her cheeks to her own after placing her bowl on the grass, giving her a determined smile. "I know it's not your usual wedding but it's our wedding, yeah?" I continued. "All that matters is that by the end of it, you and I are gonna be married and you'll be stuck with me for the rest of your life."

Vera's smile widened, and I felt my heart feel heavy with the kind of happy, loving elation I only ever felt around her. Her brown eyes were practically glimmering under the rare London sun. "You say that like it's a bad thing." She squeezed my hands, that one very important ring on her left finger subtly clinking against one of the many I wore. When she brought our joined hands up, pressing a kiss to the back of mine, I couldn't keep the smile off my face when Vera said, "Being stuck with you for the rest of my life sounds completely perfect."

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City Girl's POV:

When I'd been a little girl and fantasized about my wedding, I always assumed my dad would be walking me down the aisle. But then he was arrested and I was angry and I'd appointed my brother to fill that role. And when the day came for him to fulfill it, my heart felt far heavier than I'd imagined.

Because Dad and I had made up and I wanted him to be here. But he was dead and I was left wishing I hadn't spent those eight years ignoring his existence because once things had been made right between us, I had my dad back. Things between us were okay, he was happy for me and the man that I had found.

And then he was gone.

But it was okay. I was okay. I missed him and wished he was still here, of course, with all my heart, but I had my family and my friends and Harry's family which was now my own. Because we were married, and I couldn't believe this was suddenly my life.

I was a freaking Duchess and I had no idea how my life had turned this way.

Well, maybe I did. It was definitely because of Zoe being unable to hold her alcohol and throwing up on the beyond expensive shoes of the Prince of England. Who knew I would end up from there to here?

"What are you thinkin' about, love?" A smile grew on my face at the sound of my husband's voice before feeling him behind me, his arms winding around my waist and chin resting on my shoulder.

His curls tickled my jaw as we stood soundly, staring out the floor to ceiling windows of our private cabana. Our honeymoon destination was Bali and we'd been here for a few days and I was so in love. The water was bluer, the sky was gorgeous, even the air smelt fresher.

It was either this place or the fact that my emotions were heightened because I was married. Either way, I loved it here.

"Us," I answered Harry softly, my smile fond as I glanced down where my hand rested over his, our rings a perfect set. "We've come a long way, huh?"

Harry huffed into my bare shoulder, his grip around my waist tightening. "Tell me 'bout it," he agreed, pressing a kiss to my skin. "That stretch of long distance really fuckin' sucked."

I hummed, lips curling into a smirk. "I don't know; I kinda enjoyed not being around you and your big head."

"Wha—hey!" Harry exclaimed, letting go of me to pout childishly and I laughed at his expression. He poked my side, making me swat his hand away. "Need I remind you that you're the one who always begged me to fly out!"

I waved him off. "It was the wine talking."

Harry scoffed, though his green eyes were bright and happy. His arms were back around my waist, pulling me into his bare, tattooed chest as he brushed his nose against mine. "Pretty sure it was the wine talking when you called me your Prince Charming," he smirked.

But I grinned as my cheeks heated up, my hands cupping his cheeks. I kissed him, blissed out and happy and so in love, heart swelling in my chest because he was my husband. This was our life. We made it. "Definitely not the wine talking."

Fin.