The Neighbors

2.3 Record Deal!

A few days after we closed on our "new" house, Harry got the call from Philip Weatherfield, inviting him to a meeting in LA so they could talk record deals. I couldn't believe it was happening so fast, but then again, Harry had never been one to sit around and wait for something to happen. And my husband was wildly talented, so it wasn't a surprise that a record company was chomping at the bit to sign him.

"On the way to the airport to drop Harry off, he asked me, "Do you trust me?"

"Yes, of course, but why do you ask?"

"Because I'm flying thousands of miles away to possibly sign a recording deal that could change my life and maybe our life."

"Of course, I trust you. And I believe in you."

We pulled up to the curb at the airport and got out to get Harry's bags.

"Just promise me something," I said, taking Harry's hand.

"What's that, love?"

"When you become really famous and all those girls are throwing themselves at you – and believe me, that will happen – you won't forget me?" I asked the question in a lighthearted way with a cheesy grin, but underneath, there was a hint of real fear at the idea of women throwing themselves at my husband.

Harry slipped his strong arms around my waist and pulled me in tight until his head was resting on my shoulder and his lips were ghosting over my ear. "I could never forget the love of my life," he whispered. "You're the other half of me." Then he skimmed his lips along my cheek until they met mine and he kissed me deeply, right there in front of the honking cars and airport security.

"I love you, Mrs. Styles," he said, giving me a cheeky grin as he pulled away.

"I love you, too, Mr. Styles. Now, go get 'em!"

He laughed and then turned to grab his things and quickly entered the airport's automatic doors.

When I returned home, I noticed a large forest green pickup truck in my driveway. On the side was the lettering Malik Contractors. I furrowed my brows and then suddenly remembered I had scheduled an appointment with a contractor for this morning. I had been meeting with so many people, I almost forgot.

I parked my car and the man in the truck extinguished his cigarette and got out of the truck. He came around to me and held his hand out. "Mrs. Styles?"

"Yes," I said, shaking his hand.

"Zayn Malik."

I don't know why but I was caught off guard by him. Maybe I was expecting a middle-aged man who was 40 lbs. overweight and wearing a sagging tool belt. But Zayn was quite young, not very tall, and wiry. He was also exceptionally good-looking, but I tried not to notice his golden brown eyes framed with thick dark lashes. I was a married woman after all, and I had just sent my husband off to LA with a reminder not to fall for any pretty girls.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Malik. I hope you weren't waiting long."

"No, I just got here. And you can call me Zayn."

I nodded. "Lise."

Zayn was the contractor that I had contacted about building a basement beneath the existing house. We talked at length about the specifications I wanted, and especially about the special room that I wanted to design for Harry. He seemed quite confident that his company could do all that I needed. I agreed to meet him at the new house the next day so he could determine the extent of the project.

After he left, I indulged in some rare down time with my kids. Courtney had been watching them while I took Harry to the airport, so I invited her to stay and swim with us.