A small smile plays over your lips as you fondly remember your previous times in steam rooms until Harry snaps his fingers in front of your face.

Giggling, you grasp the hand with snapping fingers and place it on your cheek. Harry's eyes darken, and you lean in for a chaste kiss, oblivious to standing mostly naked in the hallway at a famous hotel spa.

"I want you to meet Audrey," you remind him, "but you can leave after you've had a chance to say hello to her. You've been very patient with me and my stepmonsters, and I appreciate it. I'll never be able to repay you. This time it might be best if I talk to her alone."

His thumb, still on your cheek, massages the skin there as he looks into your eyes. "You sure, love? Cause this is not me being patient. I've learned so much about you through this journey, and I am honored that you've trusted me enough to share your conversations with me. Watching you wade through your past, seeing the way you've taken in what you're hearing elevates you in my eyes and makes me extraordinarily proud of you. I've never loved anyone as much as I love you when I see you absorb other people's realities. "

Tears well in your eyes, and you kiss him again, lingering this time, "I'm sure, Harry. Come meet Audrey, and then you can get a workout in or something." Despite his words, you carefully observe his face for signs of relief at being let off the hook, but instead Harry looks supportive with his furrowed brow. Reaching up, you smooth the lines with your fingers.

"Let's do this."

==========

Opening the door, she steers me into the room behind her. The woman in the steam room looks up at our entrance, smiling immediately. Standing and holding her arms out for an embrace, she bypasses me and makes headway for my girl. They rock back and forth while they hug, and I find this to be comforting because none of the other stepmothers touched her other than to shake her hand. Finished with their connection, Audrey turns to me and beams, "Harry!" as she approaches me for a hug. Her hold is quick but tight, and I can see instantly why these two women get along so well. They are both loving individuals, and that alone speaks volumes to me.

"You're so handsome in person," she compliments me, and I blush. There's no roving of her eyes over my nearly-naked body, and she does nothing to make me feel dirty or ashamed, so already I like her. "I love the new album! It's been on repeat in my car and office since its release. After all, knowing that you're dating my favorite stepdaughter means that I have certain obligations to you. We're practically family!"

"I'm your only stepdaughter," my girl says dryly, sitting on the bench, obviously expecting Audrey to do the same, looking at me pointedly.

"Audrey," I begin, and then realize she never gave me permission to use her first name. In fact, we were never formally introduced, but I plunge forward anyway. "Audrey, it has been a pleasure to meet you. I hope you don't mind if I excuse myself for an hour to the gym facilities. I signed up for weightlifting with one of the personal trainers here."

As expected, Audrey is gracious, holding my hand in both of hers as she kisses me on both cheeks. At the door to the steam room bidding me goodbye, she whispers, "She's a special gal. I'm sure you can work this out between you."

My surprised look prompts her to continue, "I read the tabloids, and I've talked to all of my ex's wives. I know why she's here, and I'll help her." It's relief that washes over me at these words. So far, no one has acknowledged that my presence in Los Angeles is unusual. Her comments cheer me as I exit, waving to them both, heading to a non-existent weightlifting appointment.

==========

Nearly the instant the door closes behind Harry, Audrey turns to you with her eyes twinkling and a beaming smile. "Well, he's just lovely, my dear! Everything I heard about him before meeting him suggested it, but in person he's even more warm and gorgeous than I expected."

Wanly, you allow the tips of your mouth to curve upwards because she's absolutely right. Harry is amazing, and you consider yourself lucky to be in his orbit. "Yes. He's wonderful," you sigh, thinking about the words he'd shared with you before entering the steam room.

"So then what's the problem, darling?" Audrey asks, sitting next to you. taking your hands in hers. "You love him. That's obvious. He has feelings for you, or he would never have come to LA with you or stripped to put on a towel just to say hello to me. So spill it, doll. What gives?"

Rolling your eyes, you stall her, "Who says I need a reason to visit my favorite stepmother?"

Audrey is already shaking her head, "Don't try that bullshit with me. I know better. You've already seen the other stepmonsters, as you call us so affectionately, and our group chat has been on fire."

Averting your eyes to the floor, you are embarrassed. You should have come to Audrey first. She's the most important one, after all. But you wanted to hear from everyone, and if you had come to Audrey first.....well, maybe then you wouldn't have heard the full stories.

Breathing in deeply and gesturing for you to do the same, Audrey educates you, "That's lemon lavender. It has calming properties that should help soothe you. And maybe it will also help you tell me the truth about why you're here asking all of these questions of your father's former wives."

Debating, you decide to be honest. She is your favorite for a reason, having been with your father the longest, and the closest thing you have to a real mother since yours had died so young. "Fine," you pout, "I had some problems being Harry's girlfriend, and I know it's because all of you were with my father. Time after time, I saw the women in my father's life subjugate themselves to him, and I am determined not to be that woman. I love my career, and I've fought hard to earn it. Conversely, I'm afraid that if I don't cede my life to Harry, he'll dump me like my father dumped all of you. That's it in a nutshell. So I came to learn if I could possibly have a different fate."

"And what have you learned?" she asks kindly.

Throwing up your hands, you yell at her, "I learned that I was wrong! All this time I thought they gave up their careers to be with my father, but that's not true! They gave up their careers for a variety of reasons, but none of them were a result of my father's request that they do so."

Audrey is nodding sagely, "Yes. That's it. Scream. Rage. Let it all out. You've lived in your own bubble for so many years. Your father has never been the evil man you've made him out to be."

"But Audrey -- Mom," you whimper a bit saying the name you'd called her for so long, "None of you stayed with him. I don't want that for myself." You feel defeated as you reveal your true concern. "If I give myself to Harry, I want to know that it will last. That I won't be the first flavor in a long string of favorites. That he won't leave me because I couldn't give myself to him."

"Oh, honey," she sighs, stroking your hair on either side of your face as she frames your cheeks, "There is never a guarantee. Your father has never been able to get over the death of your mother. If she had lived, I believe they would have been together forever. They were a perfect couple, and they loved each other deeply. Every woman he's met since, he's compared to her, and we all failed to live up to her memory."

Your eyes, which had been tearing up, clear in wonder and interest, "Wait. Are you saying that my father would still be married to my mother if she had lived?"

Nodding, she continues to stroke your hair, resuming her story, "Your father compared us all to your sainted mother, and none of us were her. We couldn't be. But Harry? Damn. I saw that picture in the supermarket. The two of you? Let's just say I'm pulling for you."

"But what if...." you whisper, afraid to voice your fears.

Audrey cuts you off anyway, "Oh, child! What if the planet stops turning? What if the grass stops growing? What if the sun stops shining? Don't ask me 'what if'! Here's a question for you: what if you left here and never saw Harry again? What then?"

The question alone has you seeking air for your suddenly depleted oxygen supply. As you adjust to the horror the thought brings, you still have one more question for your first and favorite stepmonster, "What if I can't be by his side every time he has a movie premiere or an awards show? What if I can't be the perfect woman for him?"

Shaking her head, Audrey stands up, pulling you with her and embracing you tightly in the steamy space. "Honey. You already are the perfect woman for the right man. If Harry can't see the perfect you, it's 100% his loss. You shouldn't change for him, and he shouldn't change for you. He'll adjust when you can't join him. That man is hopefully seeking a partner who will treat him as an equal and not kowtow to him."

Her words make sense, and you realize that Harry hasn't asked you to step out of your comfort zone at all. The fears that have been holding you back from being completely his haven't disappeared, and you know that you will have to face them at times still. But you're no longer afraid that your relationship is doomed from the start. Hugging Audrey, you feel the first unravelings of the knot that has been in your stomach from the beginning.

But there's still one more hurdle to clear.

Your father.

==========

She texts me about two hours after I've left her in the steam room with Audrey, and the message says, "I'm in the lobby," which leaves me a bit worried. She loves emojis, and there isn't a single emoji in the whole message. What the hell had Audrey told her? My hair still wet from the shower after my workout, I shove a beanie on top, throw on my Randy's Donuts' hoodie, and head for the lobby, keeping my head down in case any of my fans are hiding, somehow ferreting out our location.

Approaching the spacious entry, I spot her sitting there, head in her hands. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I knew I shouldn't have left her alone with her stepmother. Dammit. We'd come so far. When I arrive in front of her, she doesn't look up, and I'm panicked. Is this it? The moment when our relationship ends permanently? Taking a deep breath, I mentally shake myself. She says she's committed to me, and I have to believe that. If I can't believe her, then why are we even here?

When she does look at me, it's with a startled expression, and I realize she hasn't seen me standing in front of her. She's dazed, and I'm curious as to what I've missed. Standing up abruptly, she briskly captures my mouth in a kiss, her tongue bravely pushing past my lips. Surprised but willing, I wrap my arms around her and pull her close, indulging myself in her taste. When the intensity lessens, she whispers to me, "Can we get a room here? I want you. Now."

Coughing, I pull back to look at her face. "What's this, love?"

"Just horny," she simpers, but I don't believe her. As much as I would enjoy an afternoon quickie, I can tell something else is on her mind.

Grabbing her hand, I navigate us to the valet stand outside. The young man nods to me, grabbing my keys and heading for my Range Rover. Good lad, recognizing me and knowing which car is mine. I pull $50 from my pocket to tip him when he returns. While standing there, she reaches her hand around my neck, pulling me to her where she commences devouring my lips. I'm lost.

Which is my excuse for not hearing the camera clicking away. As the valet brings the Rover, I hear the shutter snap, and I know that we've been caught. Opening her door, I see that she's noticed too. When she sees that I'm about to speak, though, she shakes her head. "It's okay, H. I don't mind. It was bound to happen sooner or later."

Once she's seated, and I'm prepared to close the door, she grasps my hand, looking me in the eyes, "I love you, Harry. I don't care who knows." I'm sure it's only the California smog that has my eyes blurring as I head around to the driver's side.

==========

You've given Harry your father's address. Since you have to do this, it's best to bite the bullet and get it over with. Pulling to the private gate, Harry glances at you until you spill the gate code from some hidden recess in your mind, unsure if it still works. But the gate cranks open, and Harry pulls into the spacious drive, circling round in front. While he exits the driver's side to hold your door, you take deep breaths, praying silently, even though you're unclear as to what the prayer is for. Simply, you say "God, please."

Suddenly Harry is holding out his hand to help you from the car, and you smooth your skirt over your legs nervously as you approach the front door. Raising your hand to knock, you shake your head. You debate ringing the doorbell, but that doesn't feel right either. As you stand there, indecisively, Harry reaches around you, pressing the bell and stepping back. Relief washes over you at this decision being removed from your control.

When the door opens, you hear a squeal; suddenly you are enveloped in a hug! "Miss! I mean, Doctor. Excuse me! It's so nice to have you home! Come on in, and bring your handsome boyfriend. I saw the pictures in the tabloids yesterday and knew you were in town, which of course meant you would show up here." Miss Eloise, your father's house manager (which she prefers to "housekeeper"), is leading you through the entry towards the living room.

Following behind you, Harry stops to examine the art on the walls as Miss Eloise continues talking nonstop, "And of course tonight your father is going to be home. He needs your company, I assure you, as he hasn't been out often in the last few weeks. Your father spends entirely too much time in his study these days."

In the living room, Miss Eloise points to the sofa, "Did you talk to Miss Ella? She sometimes comes by to check on your father, but he's been a bit grouchy since she left. Anyway, I'll get you something to drink and tell him you're here. Did you want your usual? Or something stronger?" Without pause, she continues talking, "Never mind. You need vodka. I can tell. I'll get it and then tell him you're here. Mr. Styles," she addresses Harry, "What would you like to drink?"

==========

For a moment, I don't speak, wondering if she will answer her own question, but she appears to be waiting for my response. "Um. I'll just have water," I respond solicitously.

"Still or sparkling?"

Nearly smacking my forehead as I've forgotten we're in California and there is no such thing as "water", I start to reply "Whichever is easier," but I know she won't take that as an answer, so I ask for sparkling. Either would be refreshing, but the sparkling will tickle my tongue.

As soon as the house manager leaves the room, my girl droops, her head lolling on the back of the sofa, her eyes closing. Immediately, I sit at her side, taking her hand, brushing my thumb back and forth over her soft skin.

My eyes have wandered around the space, and there isn't much personality here. The room is large and feels formal with the dark wood and ornate, traditional furniture. There are no family pictures to make the space feel cozy. No personal touches of any kind. I picture my love growing up in this sterile environment, and I shiver. Mum didn't have much, but she made everything around us feel safe and comfortable.

We don't speak while waiting for either her father or Miss Eloise to enter the room. Sitting in companionable silence, I allow my eyes to rest on my lovely lady. She looks tired, and I wonder at the emotional toll this trip is taking on her, especially on the heels of our reunification. The smooth lines of her face. Her long elegant eyelashes. That bow-shaped pink mouth. The pert nose. She is beautiful in every way to me, and I nearly have to pinch myself that we are back together.

The trip has been a whirlwind, and we've barely had time alone. We've been racing from place to place to talk to person after person. At night, we've fallen into bed, snuggling close as she quickly falls asleep in my arms from her exhaustion over the deep conversations she is experiencing. As much as I want to protect her in bubble wrap, I know that this is something she has to do, so I support her in it. Every step. Even this one, which is obviously stressing her out the most.

In my silent reverie, I have failed to hear the footsteps entering the room until a throat is cleared, and my girl instantly sits up on the sofa, her back ramrod straight as her eyes fly to the commanding presence in the room. I have to suck in some air, too, as I've rarely seen such a formidable man. Irving Azoff, a family friend, is a fairly intimidating man to those who don't know him, but this man carries such a presence about him -- as though we are inconveniencing him with our attendance at his home.

"Da-ad....Father," she stutters, and he inclines his head towards her as Eloise brings in a tray of drinks. Barely looking, her father plucks a glass off of the tray. Momentarily, I pray that he's grabbed my water and left me something stronger. But then I feel pretty confident that his house manager would never let that happen.

With a nod, I take both of our drinks, placing the Cosmopolitan on a coaster on the coffee table in front of my girl who hasn't relaxed since her father entered the room.

Standing, I hold my hand out to him, looking him in the eyes as I introduce myself, "Harry Styles, sir. It's a pleasure to meet you. My friend's father Irving has mentioned you several times in passing."

His nose flares, and he focuses his full attention on me, "Do you tell me that, son, because you are trying to impress me with your acquaintances, or do you actually think to scare me with your connections?"

I recognize these Papa Bear tendencies immediately. Irv does them too, in order to protect himself when a new person enters his orbit. Oddly enough, the realization relaxes me, and I smile. "Neither, sir. I merely share a connection with a mutual acquaintance. My goal in being here is to support your daughter, my girlfriend. She wanted me to meet you." In my mind, I tack on the words, "God knows why," but I refrain from saying more, nearly biting my tongue in half.

Nodding at my response, her father sits, indicating that I, too, should sit. My girl's back, however, does not relax, even though I place my hand on it, gently rubbing circles over her spine.