In The Heat Of Los Angeles [H.S.]

Epilogue: Landslide (Fleetwood Mac)

 "I feel like we just did this," Harry said as he pulled me into him in the back of the car.

"We pretty much did. Three weeks ago." I rested my head on his shoulder and watched the street fly by outside the window as we headed to the airport.

"You could just stay. I only have a week left here and I don't even have much to film. We could explore and have some time together."

"We could, but I have work to get back to. Plus I'm currently failing really terribly at the whole 'Ty and Eliza not living with us when you get home' thing."

"That's fine. I've told you that's fine. I won't be home for long before I take off to work on the album."

"I know, don't remind me."

"You get to come at the start of that."

"I know but still," I replied while I pouted. "You are going to Jamaica for at least a month. We both know my life can't let me stay there that long and I'd cramp your style."

"You will never cramp my style. I'd let you come for the entire thing but you definitely can't just pick up and leave LA for a month or two right now. We know that."

"We do." I was pouting again. The few days I'd been with him had been perfect. Each trip I'd made, three total, had been better than the one prior. We were developing a system on how this worked. We were working. The distance hadn't killed us, it had made us stronger. Strong enough that I was excited for him to take off with the team he'd picked for his album to go to Jamaica and have time away from the world to work on it. To write without the pressures of society, of the machine, of me telling him what he needed to be working on. He claimed he wanted me to A&R his record but I knew I couldn't just take off and be there the entire time. I knew that a label would want him to work with them, once he picked one, and not just me. We were doing this process differently so that he could have the freedom he needed to write the album he needed to write.

"But you can make as many visits as you want. I want to be around you as much as you can and when I'm done with Jamaica we can have some time together in LA before we figure out what's next."

What's next had been the big talk for us while he was gone. Would we decide to keep the schedule we'd done for this film while he finished an album in LA and in London? Would I take off with him and work out of the London office for a while? Would we pick New York and do something new for both of us? We'd decided we would just let the universe take us where it wanted. We'd had more talks about the future and what's next than I'd had with every other boyfriend I'd ever had in my life combined. I knew he'd want to go home to England for a while and I'd started prepping the board that I'd be heading there with him, potentially for the entire fourth quarter of the year and the start of next year. It would depend on what he wanted to do because I was willing to work from somewhere new for a while. It would be good for me, good for the company and good for our relationship.

The car pulled up to the airport and stopped. Against his wishes, I'd flown private. Pops had finally talked him into letting me do this. When your company has access to multiple private jets and you can avoid a lot of the hassle of travel, why not? I was able to sleep, work and do whatever I needed to without my anxiety spiking, without a single migraine from the travel and could fly out when it was convenient for us, not when a flight was available. Harry opened the door and I slid out of the car behind him. The driver grabbed all of my bags out of the back and took them to the staff from the plane.

"Hello Miss Scarcello," Laurel greeted.

"Hello, Laurel. I'll be onboard in just a minute."

"Take your time," she said smiling at me. She knew these goodbyes had been hard each time. She typically had everything you could ever imagine needing to calm down once I walked onto the plane, knowing that my emotions had to go through a rollercoaster as I said goodbye each time.