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Chapter 173

Only bought this dress so you could take it off

— Taylor Swift, Dress

. . . .

Harry's POV

"Hey, I'm outside."

"Okay, I'll be out in a minute."

The wind howls wistfully through the trees, the soft rustle of the leaves scratching against one another, settling a calming layer over my racing pulse. The air is crisp and a bit chilly considering the early November weather is in full swing, but nevertheless, it's a great day with clear skies.

I look down at my black dress shoes standing on top of the welcome mat with Violet's surname printed in black cursive across a coir doormat. A small terra-cotta flowerpot with a vibrant paint block pattern around the circumference sits to the right of the door on the concrete porch. Inside are a handful of race cars of all sorts of colors all jumbled together, clearly a sign of them being Mason's as the pots directly beside a small pair of red Crocs with dirt tracing the outskirts of the shoes.

My attention is pulled when I hear Violet yell something from inside. I see her zooming down the carpeted steps, perhaps at an unsafe speed, but she safely makes it to the bottom and opens the front door for me.

"Hi," she smiles.

Fuck, she looks stunning. That detail has never changed with her. She's grown tremendously in many different aspects of her life–beauty being one of them that was a strong suit for her back then, and I'd be lying through my teeth if I said she lost a bit of it over the years. Everything about her glows– her skin, eyes, hair.

We've talked a lot over the course of these past few weeks since getting back together, in a way. She's so wickedly intelligent, painstakingly, drop-dead gorgeous, and her compassionate nature never fails to impress me. I feel like I haven't grown or positively developed my mental and emotional state during our break compared to her.

I can't lie; she scared me a bit when I began realizing how much she's changed, in a good way, of course. I began getting a few hazy thoughts that she's way too good for me, which was always true. However, this time at least, she's friends with professionals in her field with the intelligence to match that I believe I'll never be able to reach. She's beyond her years in maturity. She's sweet, generous, and absolutely breathtaking. She's unparalleled to anyone I've ever met or been with.

There will never be anyone quite like Violet.

The breath is knocked out of me and it's difficult to even respond to her without my greeting sounding airy.

"You look beautiful," I tell her as I'm leaning forward to kiss her on the cheek.

"Thank you, Harry. You look very handsome."

"Thank you," I reply and the crinkle of plastic behind me reminds me of the slight weight in my hand. "Here you go."

I pull my arm around to the front of my body and hold the bouquet of flowers towards her. My heart patters in my chest and nearly feels like it's about to burst when I see her eyebrows raise, her beautiful smile spreading over her mouth, and her warm eyes glimmering at me.

"Aw, Harry, you didn't have to get me these."

"It was nothing."

I spent a good ten minutes standing at the flower shop trying to find the perfect bunch of flowers for her. I was paranoid that I'd pick the wrong color scheme because she's definitely not the same Violet, style-wise, that she was five years ago. I want these to show how much I truly care for her and just how special she is to me.