Never Letting Go. (Sequel to Til Death Do Us Part.)

3. Shitty Reunions

*Niall's P.O.V*

I was still sitting in the limo. Right before I was about to get out, my nerves got in the way. Not the normal, I feel queasy and afraid nerves. The over damatic and exaggerated nerves. I start to sweat and make up scenerios in my head. The day these stupid nerves started is when we were at the hotel, dressing and getting ready to leave for the chapel. The day Liz and I were supposed to get married. I always make up some crap and start to believe that crap. Now everytime we're coming home from tour, they fire up and start to put together some bullshit stories. Kind of like what the paps do.

I was looking out of the winow and up at Liz. She had her legs up to her chest and her head was resting on top of her knees. The other girls were hugging or kising Harry and Louis. While my wife looked so weak and vulnerable. It's my fault she's that way. If I could just grow a pair and get out of the limo. Her face would light up for sure if she saw me. At least I think it would.

That's when the scenerios start to form. What if she moved on? Found someone while I was away on tour in the United States? What if the guy- Or girl she found is better than me? What if they're more attractive or more built or loving or emotional than me? What if they're from a more foreign country or they're more Irish than me? What if they make love to her better than I do? Oh god, please don't let that be the case. Please, please, please don't let that be true?

That's ridiculous. If she didn't like how intimate we are together, she would have left me a long time ago. Or told me I needed work in a certain area. She also wouldn't scream as loud or as much as she does if she didn't like it. Now that I've studied that thought, there's no possible way she could be disappointed in our sex life. I think it's great, but if she's having doubts, we could just ask our neighbors. Bet they could tell us.

Come on Nialler, get out of the limo. There's a wife that needs you. She needs your hugs and kisses. Your support and help to get out of the hell she's in. So get out. Just open the door, put your feet onto the pavement and walk over to her. She'll look up, see you standing there, and immediately break her barriers to let you in. To let you love her. Just get your scary ass out of the damn limo. Get out!

I hesitantly moved my hand to the black handle resting under the window. My palms were sweating and if I actually got a grip on the handle it'd be a miracle that it didn't slip off. I lifted it and pushed the door outward. It creaked and came to a stop just above the pavement created high above the ground. There was grass just as I got a good view outside. It was a dark green, but in some areas it was a sickly brown color. So much for the weather being nice.

Just as I was lifting my foot to step out, Zayn got my attention. I turned to look at him and frowned.

"Yeah?" I ask, voice just above a whisper.

I could tell he knew I wasn't myself. I'm never myself when it comes to getting home from tour. Zayn also knows about the completely insane stories that I make up right before I'm to see Elizabeth.

I know Zayn has his dick moments, but besides that he always tries to help me through them.

"Your nervous?" He asked me.

I chuckled and put my head in my hands. He asks some of the most obvious questions.

"Yes," I reply, looking up at him.

He'd taken the seat beside me and was leaning forward with his elbows propped on his knees. His hands were pressed together, rubbing into each other every so often.

"Zayn, I don't like being nervous when it comes to seeing Elizabeth." I say.

He nodded his head.