Harry Styles is spending the summer in a quiet villa on the French Riviera, hoping to find inspiration for his third album. It's not happening. When he sees a beautiful windsurfer racing across the waves, he believes lessons might be a good distract...
If Lia had thought that leaving the house in Pampelonne would break ties with Harry, she was wrong.
The day after both she and her father arrived in Valroux, she was in every tabloid, in the entertainment segment of every news show, and all over the internet. There had been photos from the restaurant and the café. Photos of Harry sucking gelato from her lip, photos of them with hands clasped, matching rings easily visible, pictures of them smiling, kissing, driving in the Corvette.
Headlines were completely speculative. Are the rings an indication of something more to come? Why were they in Lia's hometown? Was Harry visiting the family? Why was Harry suddenly having such a public relationship? Was it because this was different, more serious than any before?
And there was more. Harry called and texted all night, and into the next morning. Lia didn't listen to his voicemails or read the texts; she blocked his number.
Ed texted as well.
9:12pm 'Call him Lia. He's furious.'
11:39pm 'Call him Lia. He's inconsolable.'
1:51am 'Call him Lia, He's drinking.'
3:34am 'He made himself sick and passed out, Call him in the morning'
10:23am 'He's shut in his room with his guitar and a peach and a case of bottled water. Please call him.'
She decided she would speak to Ed, and texted 'call me, NO Harry.'
Her phone rang right away.
"Lia, please come back. Even if it's just to talk to him. Or call. He was a fucking disaster last night. Now we can't get him to come out of his room, but we can hear the guitar, so we know he's ok."
"I can't come back, and I can't talk to him. It's not all about Harry, hard as that might be to believe. I needed to leave for me."
"Look, all I know is that when Harry left this house yesterday the two of you were in each other's arms, and he most definitely expected you to be here when he got back, but you had cleared out. He's lost. I'm not sure he knows why you left."
"I told him. He got the letter, right?"
"He did, but I don't think he understood."
"It was killing me, Ed, and I didn't want to spend my last days with him being miserable, ok? Now I need to go and explain to my father why he's seeing his desolate daughter, whom he consoled half the night, smiling from every news platform available this morning. Goodbye Ed."
She hung up the phone and silenced it.
*****
Her father had come home to see her, and to take care of some business that couldn't be done from Guadeloupe. He hadn't told her because he thought she would like to end her summer arrangement without the distraction of his return.
He did his best to understand what had happened to his daughter that summer, but what exactly her relationship with Harry had been he couldn't sort out. He asked her point blank if she had been his whore and she had slapped him. Hard. He asked if she had been his girlfriend, and she said not exactly. He asked if she loved him, and she said yes. He asked if he loved her, and she broke down in tears again. It was obviously very complicated.
"Papa," she said as the bout of tears subsided, "I was his inspiration. He wanted me near him, to talk to him, to do things with him. A companion, but more. And I was foolish enough to fall in love with him."
"Lia, falling in love is not something you have control over, do you not know that? I didn't mean to fall in love with your mother, nor she with me. You don't know this, but we were both engaged to other people when we met."
"Papa! That's scandalous. And quite romantic. Did you break the other people's hearts?"
"I'm afraid so. That was a case of not meaning, or wanting, to fall in love. But love has a mind of its own."
"I suppose you're right, but that doesn't make this any easier. I wish those damn photos hadn't come out. Salt in the wound. I'm glad you're here, Papa, but I do miss Maman more than usual right now."
"I miss her all the time. Lia, I think you might finally understand why I left so soon after she died. It was painful being here; there are so many memories. It's like in our song,
Sometimes I'm a strong man Sometimes cold and scared And sometimes I cry...
"Oh Papa! You don't know. I met her. Stevie Nicks was with us for a few days, helping Harry, and they sang your song. Stevie Nicks knows that it's your song."
"Lia, sometimes I think you must be making half of this up. How can this have been your summer?"
"Come with me."
She led her father up to her room, which he hadn't yet entered since they got home, and showed him the signed poster. Then she took her laptop out to the terrace and showed him photos from the past few months. Selfies, candids shot by the musketeers and the band, even the proofs from Calvin, which had come in a few days earlier.
"I'm going to be his album cover. This photo, we think. But of course no one will know it's me."
"Lia, you're my daughter and I've thought you were lovely all your life, but these... they're stunning. I wouldn't hesitate to tell my friends that this photo of a man eating fruit on your bum is on an album cover. Well, as long as the music is any good."
"I've only heard one song. Evidently, I'm the inspiration for a few. I chose not to hear them as they were being recorded. I'll hear it all when the album's released, I guess. Maybe he'll send me a signed copy. They're making actual vinyl records."
"I remember when you were so in love with that band. Most of the music offended my ears and hurt my brain."
She chuckled, "His solo stuff is very different. I'll send you a few songs. I'm not really up for listening to them with you at the moment."
"I understand. Now, shall we go to the bakery? The bakeries in Guadeloupe are lacking. I'm dying for some real bread."
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