One More Night (Niall Horan)

Chapter Thirty-Seven: Loved

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Three weeks of pure bliss brought me back to LA, it was as large as that day when Niall and I had returned from our escape.

Surprisingly, no word of a wedding had been leaked into the press, and as I returned hand-in-hand with Niall, no one even seemed to notice the wedding bands that were on our hands as we pushed our suitcases, a fresh tan and blissful smiles on our faces.

Life had seemed to become peaceful.

I prepared myself for my press-day as the new X Factor USA judge, a job I had taken far too long ago, and posed on the red carpet, trying to emphasise the rock that was on my finger.

“Lennox are you and Niall Horan engaged?” Someone shouts, and a larger smile grows on my face, the livestream coverage of the premiere means that everyone will know. They’ll know how happy I am.

“Not engaged.” I respond. “I’m married.”

Frenzy. Chaos. Whilst I watched the flashes, my heart felt lighter, yet an invisible line was still pulling me towards Niall, just as it always is, and always will.

“We got married three weeks ago, it was extremely private with our close friends and family, and Niall and I have just returned from our honeymoon.”

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

“We wanted some time alone to be a married couple together.” I smile and let out a giggle. “We’re both very happy.”

*

With marriage, came a bigger commitment for Niall and I. We spent more time together, we brought a three bedroom house in North London, and after five years of marriage, five years of concentrating on our careers and being the big successes that we knew we could be, then it all slowed down.

We concentrated on our time together, singing around the house and cooking curries every Saturday night, dividing our time between seeing our family and friends and spending time together.

“We’re trying for a baby.” Niall had told his father so easily over dinner in Ireland one night, causing the atmosphere to grow tense, it was something we had agreed not to tell many people. After all this time in the limelight, we just wanted our business to be our own, even if it meant keeping from family members that we wanted children.

“Well, try being the main word.” I add. “We haven’t had any success yet.”

But one week later, I was pregnant.

“Okay, what name?” He asked at month seven, the date we had decided that we’d be allowed to discuss baby names, his hand was rubbing my tummy, my feet ached and we’d taken a break from painting the nursery to just talk, but Niall had been desperate to talk baby names since the day in the bathroom when the pregnancy test finally told us yes.

“Okay, so boy’s names?” I suggest and Niall shrugs.

“I want something Irish ya know.” He tells me, twirling one of my brown hair strands over his finger. “Because we’ll be in London I want something to tie him or her to Ireland.”

“I have an idea.” I say, “When I got shot… I sort of had this really messed up dream where I was pregnant. And… we decided on Finley, since then it’s sort of been the only name I could ever imagine for our baby.”

“Finley.” He repeats. “So we’d call him Finn? And then… I guess we’d still say Finley if she was a girl.” He pauses, kissing my cheek and then nodding.