One Journey, the Final

Chapter 34:

Well see, I already have a honeymoon written. And although it might make more sense to just end it at the wedding, I can't just throw these ideas away. I really like how they turned out :D Again, thank you for all the reads, votes, comments, and support.

Honestly, I know I should've remembered every single detail from the plane ride to landing, but it was all a blur of sleep. It didn't even register in my mind that we were landing until I heard the clambering of suitcases being taken down. I snapped my head up, looked out the window, and saw a plane strip. But somehow this was all so familiar. The airport. I've been here before.

We're in London.

I look around at my surroundings. Harry is up with a few suitcases smiling at me. The side of my mouth feels crusty. I touch it, realizing it is dry drool. Attractive. I wipe it off, and reach up to feel my hair, it's wildly curly. I'm not longer in my wedding dress, nor is my hair in its beautiful up-do. It was a bit saddening. I'd never get to wear the dress again. Oh well. I got up, stretching. My legs were vibrating as they started to wake up. I reached up and grabbed two remaining bags, and followed him out of the plane. It was a calmingly cloudy outside, the norm for dreary London weather. It's lightly drizzling, I can feel it seep through my sweater. I was wearing my honeymoon-airport outfit. A short white lace dress, black sweater, tights, and knee length brown riding boots.

I was on Harry's toes. I did not want to get lost in a city that was altogether foreign to me. We quickly got in a cab, all without getting mobbed by photographers. Phew. Harry quickly rattled off some address and then turned to me.

"So, what do you think?" he asked excitedly.

"It's amazing, I love it," I said, kissing him on the cheek. Well, at least, I was aiming for his cheek. Sneaky Brit turned his head just in time for our lips to touch. Within a few minutes the cab driver pulled in front of a gorgeous hotel that was a few stories high. I sat there gaping at it, until Harry opened the door for me, leading me in.

My eyes widened as we walked up towards the Dorchester Hotel in London. It was humongous and British, which made it appear even more daunting then it was. Still, I kept my cool. This was my first real extended time in another country, and I didn’t want to look like a tourist. But, I’m pretty sure everyone already knew that I was, considering I was next to Harry, and I had already seen three people with magazines and my picture on the front cover of them. I gulped as we walked in through the doors, and the thick smell of tea was in the air. You could already tell that this place was in England. Everywhere you looked it was pink flowers, tea, and British accents. Harry led me to the front desk.

                “Hello Mr. Styles,” the lady said. She looked to be a stuffy old woman in a pale purple work suit.

                “Hello Cat,” he said casually. I have no idea how they knew each other.

                “Is this your wife?” she asked suspiciously. She had beady little black eyes that were staring me down to the ground. I wonder if her eyes are so black from all the tea she’s drunk and the heat hitting her eyes until they’re permanently blackened burned. I smiled weakly, trying not to look like the stupid little American she thought me to be.

                “Yes, this is my wife, Annabel. We’re supposed to be staying in the Terrace Suite right?” he asked casually. Cat stopped her persistent staring and looked up our reservation.

                “Yes. It’s on the tenth floor. I hope you enjoy your stay at the Dorchester!” Cat said, shooing us away into our suite. I must be honest with you; the architectural build of the hotel was amazing. Old and genuine is the best types of building, and the Dorchester was an example of that. I couldn’t wait to see the design of our suite.