Nora Dodson is a "fast-talking, F-bomb-dropping, born-and-bred New Yorker". Harry Styles is no longer a member of One Direction. He's lovely, kind and a very odd young man, though he's entirely unhappy in his relationship. But then he meets Nora an...
You are all very inquisitive. I'm both scared and proud.
Happy reading!
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Thursday, March 9th 2023 — London, England
7:50 P.M — Nora.
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I'd been queasy all day, assuming it was jet-lag, mixed with a gross lack of rest, I didn't think much of it. We spent quite a while at Gemma and Michal's home in Hampstead, visiting with the family and beautiful baby Robin, but around seven o'clock, we went home. Rosie and Peter were exhausted, and Harry and I were pretty wiped. We weren't set to leave England until Saturday, so our plan was to go to bed early and get as much sleep as humanly possible. However, after putting the kids to bed, I went to the bathroom. For the third week in a row, my period had yet to come and I was beginning to believe the extreme. I poked my head out and saw Harry sitting on the edge of the bed. "Hey, do you see my phone out there?" He glances around and shakes his head.
"Do you want to borrow mine, love?" I only need a three minute timer.
"Yes, please." He gets up and hands it to me. "Thank you." His dimples appear, despite his sleepy expression and I fall a tiny bit more in love with him, as I do every time I look at him, or listen to him. I don't want to verbalize my current state, so I keep quiet, pee on the stick and then wait for the three minutes to pass by. Of course they do so, slowly. But when I look down at the timer and it falls from ten seconds to nine seconds, it's interrupted by a phone call coming in. "Harry, you're getting a call!"
"Who is it?" He asks from behind the door.
"It's an English number, I think...but you don't have it saved."
"Will you answer it, baby?" I swipe my thumb across the answer button and as I do, I look down at the stick. Sure enough, two pink, parallel lines have appeared, clear as day.
"Hello?" I say, my mind entirely elsewhere.
"Is Mr. Harry Styles there?"
"This is his wife, may I ask who's calling?"
"Mrs. Styles?"
"Yes..."
"My name is Officer Billings, I'm with the London Police."
"What's the reason for this call?" I hide the positive pregnancy test behind the stack of toilet paper, and open the door. Harry looks up at me and I walk to him, with the phone still pressed to my ear.
"I'm afraid I can't give you that information until I've spoken to your husband, ma'am."
"He's right here." I pull the phone away. "It's the London Police, they need to speak with you." His brow furrows and he takes the phone from my hand.
