Styles Towers.

Epilogue. || 3

August, 5th.

London.

Harry and I left New York last Friday night and haven't spoken since. The six-hour flight was long and tedious with us giving each other the silent treatment. I'm not sure why he's not speaking to me; I'm not the one that quite bluntly declared that we would be packing up and moving to New York.

It has been four days of silence between us and the only time we've muttered any words has been while at home and around Alex, we may not be talking to each other but I'll be damned if we can't co-parent with our son.

I think this four-day streak has been the longest we have ever been through, we usually talk things out civilly, but this time is just different. This time I don't think either of us is going to budge with the disagreement.

Harry wanders into my office at his building and grants me his devil-may-care outlook and a stellar smile while his hand clutches a bouquet of flowers—pity, I'm sorry flowers— we can say.

"I know you want nothing to do with me right now and I know these flowers won't change that, but I'm hoping you'll at least change your mind and come tonight," Harry's melodious voice is moderate and steady as he settles the roses on my desk and I glance over at him.

He has an event tonight, one of the many he would like me to attend with him. As of late yesterday, I informed him I wasn't going to chaperone, mainly because we aren't on the best of talking grounds, however; I changed my mind on my decision, mainly because I am not the type of wife to let him down. Sure, he lets me down on occasions, like with this whole aspiring to move to New York, but it doesn't mean I will stoop to that level. After all, he is still my husband and I will support him in public, even if in private I don't agree with him.

I cock my head to the side, "my dress is upstairs," I inform him, having no desire to go too in depth on things. I want to finish my work, put on the damn dress and get his event over with.

I'll attend with him, that's all there is to it, there isn't anything more to say.

"Do we have a sitter for Alex?"

I roll my eyes at Harry's question. "No, I thought I would just leave him to be supervised by the security guard by our penthouse door," I murmur sarcastically, for some reason bothered by his ludicrous inquiry.

Harry takes in a breath and breathes out gradually, "who's watching him?"

"Your sister, she'll be here in ten minutes to pick him up. She's staying at our house before meeting her boyfriend at his hotel when we get home."

Harry nods, "do you need-"

I promptly cut Harry off, already aware of what he's about to ask me, "no, I don't need you to prompt me on tonight. Anastasia gave me the list of guests that I need to remember. This isn't my first rodeo... unless, of course, you've abruptly changed your ways and want to blindside me with a new guest?" I comment, watching as his usually grey eyes are a hint of a dewy, mist valley-green as they crinkle with frustration due to my astute remark of him blindsiding with me New York. -"Perhaps you have someone from New York flying in to coax me into wanting to move forward with this project of yours?" I respond bitterly.

Harry doesn't respond, he just rolls his eyes before walking out.

I can only assume he is on his way to collect Alex from the downstairs daycare before getting ready for the event of the night.

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