In My Arms

Elizabeth got the call in the middle of the night.

She’d been sleeping with her phone next to her on Harry’s pillow. Still, the sudden ringtone—he’d changed his ringtone to Little White Lies because, as he insisted, it was cheeky—startled her out of deep sleep. She didn’t bother to sit up as she answered, “Are you okay?”

He’d been crying, she could tell already. “Zayn flew home.”

“The fuck is the matter of him?” She eased up into a sitting position and pulled her blankets up to her chest. “What does that even mean?”

“They’re going to release a statement about it; they’re going to say it’s stress and he needs a break.” Harry exhaled shakily. “But that’s not it at all. He wants out. He’s refusing to perform and he’s got a lawyer on it—he’s trying to get out.”

“Did he say why?”

There was silence on the other end of the line for so long, she pulled the phone from her ear to see if the call had dropped. He finally spoke, “Did you see the pictures? The paps are having a field day.”

“I stopped reading the tabloids when they were openly debating if I was pregnant or if I was just fat.”

“The paps caught him out with other women. Not just one, but two. I wasn’t there when it happened so I have no idea what went down, but now they’re saying he cheated on Perrie and Perrie was photographed without her ring and it’s a God damned mess.”

“Whoa, sexy, take a breath.” Elizabeth could feel her heart pounding in her chest. Harry had to be insanely upset to burst into a litany that fast. “Do you think he cheated?”

He was again silent. “I don’t know, baby girl, this kid isn’t the same guy anymore. He’s secretive, shady…when we aren’t performing, he’s holed up in his room and won’t speak to any of us. Not even me.”

She could hear the break in his voice at the last part. Harry always prided himself in being a good listener—and a better friend. “If it’s any consolation, Perrie isn’t talking to me. I’ve texted, called, everything. She won’t respond.”

“I honestly don’t think he’s coming back.”

“Harry, don’t say that.”

“I just don’t like the way management is playing this out. They’re going to say he had to go home because he’s stressed, but I know it’s a lie. I honestly think he wants to go solo. He’s sick as fuck of pop music and saccharine songs. Maybe we all are, but that’s who we are. That’s why we got where we are.” He sighed; she could picture him digging his fingers into his hair and shoving it out of his face. “I’m sorry, I woke you up. I just needed you.”

Her breath caught in her throat. “I miss you, Hazza.”

“I miss you too, baby girl. This time next week, we’ll be together; hopefully sleeping naked. How are you feeling?”

“Okay, I guess. I’ve been craving chicken fajitas and cheddar sour cream potato chips. Anna insists that means I’m having a boy. I’m carrying high, though, so my stylist insists it’s a girl. Now they’re joking it’s twins and things are just plain out of control.” She giggled, snuggling further under the covers. “I can feel the baby moving now.”

“Jesus, I want to be there with you.”

“I’m almost at 20 weeks…that means it’s halfway over.” She sighed, trailing her hand over her swollen belly. “We…um…we really need to think about if we want to release a statement or anything. I ended up having to tell Brent because he was shitting his pants over the fact I’m not doing anything until October.”

“I’ll bet you a foot massage that he asked if you wanted him to release a statement.”

“You get three guesses and the first two don’t count.” Turning her head, she glanced at the jungle of pictures on the bedside table, or, as Anna called it, The Harry Styles Shrine. “He said he had a feeling I was trying to hide a pregnancy because I wear enormous clothes and wait in the car while peasants fetch my lattes. Apparently, he’s been getting a ton of shit from the media asking him to confirm if or if not we’re expecting.”

“It’s going to come out sooner or later. I wish I knew if it was better to confirm or just let people figure it out when we’re pushing a carriage.”

“That’s what I asked Brent. He said it could go either way: some people make a statement, some people don’t. Personally, I’d be thrilled to not have to hear photogs screaming, ‘Are you carrying Harry’s love child?’ or ‘Did Harry get you pregnant?’ It’s like a cattle call.”

Harry laughed, for the first time since she’d answered the phone. “Love child?”

“Speaking as someone who, is in fact, a love child, I’d classify it as such. Maybe; unlike the shining parental example Keith Richards, you haven’t run away.”

“And despite the lyrics of one particular song of mine that discusses being ready to run, I am most certainly not.” He laughed again and then grew silent. “For the first time in a long time, I’m worried about my career in music.”

“Worst case scenario, you can stay home and by my trophy husband.”

“I’ll be your arm candy on the red carpet.” He paused dramatically. “Wait, I already am. I’ll take your last name instead when we get married. Wait, then I’d be Harry Richards. People would call me Harry Dick and, as you know, that’s most certainly not the case…”

Elizabeth giggled. That was more like her Harry—but even still, he sounded distracted. If Zayn really did leave One Direction, the shit was going to hit the fan.

####

Harry felt more like a puppy than a father-to-be as he and Lizzie walked to Cedars-Sinai hospital for her gestational ultrasound: that is, he felt wiggly and like he had to pee.

Her baby belly was adorable. He kept glancing at her—shyly, like he didn’t want her to catch him—and marveling at how gorgeous she looked at five months pregnant. She was all baby: from behind, she didn’t look pregnant. For the ultrasound, she’d dressed in a red and black fitted maxi-skirt and a white fitted shirt. Her hair was down, her sunglasses pushed back on her head, and she looked smashing.

It made his heart pound harder; that was his girl and his baby. He was so in love that he couldn’t up but grin like an idiot. And he still really had to pee.

“I have to stop in the little boys’ room for a wee.” He kissed her temple. “You can wait here or I’ll just meet you upstairs.”

“I need a snack, so I’m hitting the gift shop.”

“You had a snack in the car.”

“Your child is a hungry beast, what can I say?” She playfully pushed him. “The doctor says I need to gain weight anyway.”

Harry shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Did…ah…did Brent…”

“He gave his fab statement, so stop worrying.” She leaned up on her tiptoes and kissed his lips. “No old ladies are going to drop from fright when they see me and realize I’m unmarried and knocked up.”

He laughed and swatted at her bottom. “Naughty girl.”

“You know it.”

As soon as Harry finished in the bathroom and washed his hands, he pulled out his cell phone and looked up Elizabeth Richards on the internet search box. He didn’t even have to type her name in all the way: the headlines from all the big gossip sites and celebrity rags were about them. It’s official: Harry and Liz are expecting a baby!; Baby on the Way for One Direction’s Harry Styles and two time Academy Award winner Elizabeth Richards; Elizabeth Richards is pregnant, Expecting baby with One Direction’s Harry Styles. He clicked on one of the links and red the first few lines, “Elizabeth Richards pregnant and expecting her first child with longtime boyfriend, Harry Styles, of British pop super group, One Direction. Representative for both Elizabeth and Harry have confirmed the pregnancy, but released no further details.”

He shoved the phone in his pocket, smirking at the look on management’s face when he told them Lizzie was pregnant. It was horror, disbelief, disapproval, and irritation at all once. It was glorious. Simon Cowell had stopped him in the hallway, shook his hand, and whispered, “I think it’s brilliant.”

When he found Lizzie in the surprisingly large gift shop, she was standing in the snack food aisle looking a thirteen dollar bag of M&Ms. He wrinkled up his nose, “Why does it smell like ham in here?”

“I’m glad you said that, because I was starting to think I was having some kind of ham hallucination.” She giggled. “I wonder if that’s possible. God, now I want a ham sandwich.”

Harry burst out laughing and clapped his hand over his mouth, trying to muffle the noise. “Hammy hallucinations? I’m going to keep my eye on you, little girl. I don’t need you to get arrested for stealing ham from the cafeteria.”


“I’d be like The Hamburgler.” Her cheeks were turning pink from trying to hold in her laughter. “Do you have The Hamburgler in the UK? He’s like, Ronald McDonald’s thieving friend who…how do I explain this…burgles hamburgers. That’s totally me right now.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He managed to choke it out through his laughter—she looked so serious.

“Or Grimace? The big purple guy? Or Birdie? Come on, what kind of childhood did you have? Oh, coconut!” She snatched two Almond Joy bars off the shelf. “Or ham loaf?”

“Is ham loaf some kind of American fast food character?”

“No, but while I was thinking of ham my brain transitioned to thinking about ham loaf. It’s like meatloaf but made of ham. Gelatinous ham. Hammy goodness. My grandma used to make it and, ew. Easter and Grandma Nixon’s house always concluded with a drive to McDonalds. Again, I’m obviously The Hamburgler.” She dissolved into a fit of giggles. “What were we talking about again?”

“I can honestly say I have no idea.”

She looked at him, perfectly straight faced. After a beat, they both burst out laughing; Lizzie snorted as she laughed, which only made her laugh harder. Waving her hand at him, she headed towards the refrigerated drinks. “I have to walk away from you or I’m going to pee my pants.”

He followed her. “You’re not wearing pants.”

“Are you referring to British pants or American pants?” She pulled an iced tea out of the refrigerator. “Because that’s a huge difference.”

He pulled her back against him, putting his face close to her ear. “I watched you get dressed this morning: American pants. I, however, am without British pants.”

“Really.”

“Put your hands in and find out.”

Before Lizzie could respond, he heard a voice behind him, “Do you two need help with anything?” A college aged girl was peering suspiciously at them; her eyes widened substantially when he turned completely around.

“Nope, we’re good. Just buying snacks.” He took the candy bars and tea from Lizzie, then pulled a bottle of Coke out of the case for himself.

The girl followed them to the register and rang up the snacks; as he paid for them, she said, “I’m really sorry to stare…but…ah, it’s actually true? She’s pregnant?”

Harry exchanged a glance with Lizzie. She widened her eyes at him, which didn’t seem to be a committed answer either way. “She just really likes ham.”

The girl looked confused, but handed him a plastic bag with the candy and drinks inside. Lizzie linked her arm with his and pulled him out of the gift shop, nuzzling her head against his arm. Once they were out of earshot of the girl, in a low voice she said, “So, what you’re saying is, I like riding your bologna pony?”

Harry burst out laughing and slid his arm around her waist, pulling her to him. “Yes.”

By the time they reached the radiology suite, they’d laughed the whole way up to the 7th floor of the hospital, got a strange look from an older lady, and Harry had spilled a third of his Coke down the front of his shirt. As Lizzie signed in at the reception desk, he idly dabbed a paper towel against his shirt. “Is this noticeable?”

“Um. No?” She opened one of her candy bars and took a bite. “Anna and Jen have decided they’re throwing me what they’re calling ‘a glam baby shower’ and, despite the fact I don’t know what that’s going to entail, they’ve decided to invite me. It’s the last Sunday in May, so right before we fly out to Europe for that part of your tour. I haven’t been able to score you an invite to the actual shower, but I got permission to have you come for cake.”

“Can I come dressed as Ziggy Stardust?”

“No.”

“I’ll still come, but I’ll be far less exciting than if I came as Ziggy Stardust.”

“We can negotiate. If I get to dress as the Star Child from Kiss, you can dress as Ziggy Stardust. With our luck, glam is just going to mean they’re going to buy the really expensive paper plates.” She bit her lip as he lifted her hand to his mouth, sucking the chocolate off her fingertips. “Um…stop that.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s hot and I’m afraid the sonogram person will somehow figure out that I’m all turned on.”

“So the baby has cheeky parents. There’s worse things in life.”

“Miss Richards?” A young woman in scrubs was standing in the open door leading to the exam rooms. “Are you ready?”

Harry pulled her to her feet and they followed her to a dim room, similar to the exam room they were in for the first sonogram. As before, Lizzie climbed up onto the exam table and stretched her legs out in front of her, he took a seat in the chair and caught her hand in his.

“So, congratulations first of all.” The tech smiled at them as she typed in Lizzie’s information onto the screen. “Are you excited?”

“Hells yeah!” Lizzie pulled her shirt up, exposing her adorable, rounded belly. Harry pressed his lips to her hand. Her poor tattoos; they looked miserable.

The tech squirted the sonogram gel onto Lizzie’s stomach and began moving the probe around. After a moment, the now familiar baby image showed up on the screen. Harry felt his heart leap into his throat. There was their baby, wiggling and twitching around.

“Okay, I’m going to just take some routine measurements and after that’s all over, if you want to find out and the little one cooperates, I can tell you the gender of the baby.” She pushed the probe up and down on Lizzie’s belly. “Because, right now, the baby is on its stomach and I can’t see anything. I bet you’ll have a stomach sleeper, though. That’s what a lot of mom’s tell me.”

“We definitely want to know, yeah.” He could feel his pulse picking up. It was another one of those monumental moments in his life, like when they’d been on X Factor or when he first realized he was in love with Lizzie. Time seemed to move in front of him, like he wasn’t actually part of what was happening. He stared at the screen, watching as the tech took still photographs of the baby’s profile, the baby’s hands and feet, and a few full length shots. He marveled at the baby’s profile, of the sweet little nose and puckered lips. And then, when it looked like the baby was sucking its little thumb…it was almost impossible to wrap his brain around the thought that he’d made this little person, the little baby snuggled inside Lizzie’s body. They’d made a person.

This girl…this perfect girl. He was in love with her entire being; the way her hand fit in his and the way their lips fit together. She was literally his happy ever after—just knowing how much she loved him back made his soul dance.

“I’ve got what I need.” It had taken nearly 45 minutes, but the tech finally paused. “Do you want to know the baby’s gender?”

They answered together. “Yes.”

The tech moved the probe a little, bouncing it up and down several times to encourage the baby to move. She hit a button to freeze the screen. “You two are having a baby…girl.”

Lizzie squealed. “Oh my god, are you sure?”

The tech nodded and touched the computer screen. “She’s got her legs straight up; if it was a boy, we’d definitely be able to see his parts right here.”

“Oh my gosh…just…oh my gosh.” Lizzie turned at looked at him, her smile broad. “A little girl.”

He kissed her hand and then leaned over and kissed her lips. “If she’s as gorgeous as you, I’m never going to let her out of the house. My mum is going to go mad.”

In that moment, he was almost able to forget all the problems with the group. He had Lizzie, they had a baby girl. In that moment, he was almost able to be completely happy.

Almost.

Notes

Comments? Anyone?