I trek up the stairs to the apartment. Ever since Harry and I moved I've always hated this part of the day. The elevator has been under maintenance for weeks, and so everyday after work I'm forced to trudge up the seemingly-infinite marble stairwell. I'm not used to its pristine nature- I've nearly slipped a dozen times, I'm sure. I guess I don't have much to complain about, though- it's a considerable upgrade from my last place.

I finally reach the 8th floor and dig through my big bag for the keys to the front door. My uniform is stuffed haphazardly into the bag, and my white chef's hat falls to the ground as I scrounge around with my fingers searchingly. Fucking hell- I'll have it now. The restaurant I work at currently has much stricter rules than the one I used to work at. I guess, to be fair, the owner of the old restaurant didn't know Gordon Ramsey. I couldn't thank Harry enough for landing me an interview after he made a recommendation without my knowledge, but luckily they found my skills sufficient enough to keep me around. I now work directly under the head chef.

I finally find my keys. I pull them out and retrieve my hat from the floor. I can hardly keep everything from slipping through my fingers as I finally get the door open. Thank god Harry isn't in New York right now. I'd be a laughing stock if he wasn't away on tour. The last time I talked to him I think he was in Germany.

I stumble in and triple lock the door behind me before sliding the bolt into place- old habits die hard. I make it to the couch and deposit my mass of things onto one of the cushions. I sigh in relief and fall back into the plush sofa. Across from me sits a large wooden coffee table- almost as long as Harry is. I remember having him lie down next to it to judge the size.

Across from the coffee table is a large flat-screen TV. I wasn't too impressed when Harry brought it home for me just a few months ago. My condition for living with him was that we would each pay our fair share. I refuse to just let him pay for all my stuff- I'd never feel like anything belonged to me. I know he's a millionaire and an international rockstar and all that, but I can't stand the thought of anyone thinking I'm using him for his money- especially not with the history between us.

He made up for buying the TV, though. He let me buy all our groceries for an entire week. That satisfied me plenty, and then I treated him to a nice meal at my favourite restaurant- the subway place. Harry always likes to take me out for fancy dinners. However, even though my bank account is fairly full now, I don't see the sense in wasting money when I could have just as good of a meal for a third of the price. Of course I work at one of those fancy, overpriced places now, but they don't have to know my personal opinion on the matter.

I make the long trek from the living room to the kitchen. At a contrast to my old place, it takes nearly 10 seconds to get from one side to the other. Something is sitting in the kitchen that I didn't notice before. On the island sits a small cake- maybe just enough for 2 people. On it are the words 'Happy Birthday' written in vanilla frosting along with 2 candles stuck in which read '27'.

Wow, is that the date? I hadn't even noticed it was my birthday. Usually I lose track of time when Harry's not around to remind me. I guess it happened again.

Nevertheless, although I've been reminded of my birthday, I can't help but glance around nervously. Who the hell has brought this cake for me? I certainly hope it wasn't my friends- I've been looking forward to watching TV and taking a hot bath for the entire day.

I hear someone clear their throat loudly from behind me, and whip around to see Harry standing in the entrance to the kitchen.

"Harry!?" I exclaim, more confused than ever. How can he be here? I talked to him just last night, and he was halfway across the world then.

"Hi, lovely." He greets me in the same way as always. I run towards him and engulf him in my arms, wrapping my legs around his waist so he's forced to pick me up. He chuckles into my chest and squeezes me tightly.

"What the hell are you doing here?!" I can hardly keep from screaming I'm so excited. I've not seen him in nearly a month.

"You think I'd miss your birthday?" Harry asks, almost offended. Since we met 4 years ago, Harry has made a point to never leave me alone on 3 specific days of the year- my birthday, our anniversary, and christmas. It seems he has not failed to follow through this time, either.

"I nearly missed my birthday!" I admit with a small laugh. Harry chuckles again and finally sets me down, not before placing a long, lingering kiss to my lips.

All I can do is stand in his arms and hug him for a little longer. It's nearly impossible for me to ever accompany Harry while he goes on the road, so I've learned to savour each and every bit of him when I get the chance.

"Come and sit, we'll cut your cake." Harry tells me cheerfully, guiding me down into a stool at the island. I smile appraisingly and watch as Harry takes a seat across from me. I don't look at the cake or the knife in his hand as he slices me a piece- instead I take him in.

I notice there's a little stubble growing around his chin and lips- he usually keeps himself clean shaven, but I like the difference- usually he's too stubborn to let it grow. Besides, I always tease that it's impossible for him to grow any facial hair, but I guess I stand corrected. He's allowed his hair to grow out longer since I last saw him. Now his curls come down to cover his forehead and nearly touch his eyelashes. I can't tell which way I prefer it- I wouldn't want his beautiful eyes covered. Then again, I do like to pull his hair, especially when it's long.

"Stop staring." Harry giggles, looking to me for a split second with a dashing smile. I have to stop myself from swooning. I can hardly believe he has this affect on me, even after all this time.

"Hey, you should be happy I'm still staring at you after 4 years." I tease. Harry looks up and raises a brow.

"What else would you be doing?"

"I could find you boring, you never know." I go on. Harry's dimples pop as he grins.

"Mmm... You wouldn't dare." He humours me. I laugh, but on the inside I know he's right. I'm not bored of him and I never will be.

"Yeah, you're right." I admit. A couple years ago this revelation would've had me stuttering and coughing and freezing up. Now I find telling him things as easy as riding a bicycle. He's changed me for the better in so many ways I couldn't even list them all- it would take too long.

Harry grabs a plate and hands me my cake. I willingly accept and sit back in my chair. I think I'd take this any night over watching TV and sitting in the bathtub alone.

"Don't you have a show somewhere in Europe or something?" I question again.

"Not for another 2 days."

"Harry, you didn't have to take all the effort to-"

"-Charlotte, shut up." Harry instructs. I do as I'm told but can't stop the small smirk from spreading across my face. It seems he's not bored of me yet, either.

"Whatever you say, bossy." I retort. Harry raises his brow again, but this time I know it's not in a playful way- it's in a domineering way. He's not changed much since I first met him. In fact, in that respect, he's exactly the same. I still love it.

I set my plate down and raise my hands in surrender, attempting to calm him. I know he won't let me finish my cake if tease him. I can already tell he's restraining himself from touching me now.

"Anyway, thank you." I express my appreciation. Harry smiles and leans forwards to deliver a swift peck to my lips, smearing a bit of icing on my face. I allow him to wipe it off with his thumb and clean my face for me.

"So, how was your day?"

"Good- tiring, though. Also I almost slipped on the way up the stairs again." I chuckle. Harry looks amused.

"You've lived here an entire year and you still can't get up the bloody stairs?" Harry accuses. I laugh loudly and shake my head.

"Apparently not... How was your day?"

"I spent it on a plane, but it's going quite well now." Harry tells me. I blush- he can still make me blush after all this time- and look down to the marble floor. It seems this entire damn building is made of marble.

"Charlotte?"

"Yes, Harry?" I ask. His tone is more serious now and I wonder what could be the matter. Harry hardly ever stops joking when I'm with him.

"I love you." He says with a small smile, although his eyes flicker with an emotion I can't identify. He looks sort of nervous- his feet are tapping rapidly against the floor and his hands fidget with the fork gripped between his fingers.

"I love you, too, weirdo." I respond, confused at his sudden admittance. Harry and I make it very clear that we love each other every single day of every single week of every single year. Usually, though, we don't have to say the words to get the feeling across. It's odd he's stating them so plainly now.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Anything."

"Well, if you had stayed on the show and I had proposed to you, what would you have said?" Harry asks. I'm taken aback for a moment. Harry and I normally make a point of avoiding the subject of The Bachelor. Neither of us like to talk about it-

I hate to think about what I did to Harry the night I left, and I also hate to think about all the other women he was dating. At the time, it seemed a lot more normal. Now, it just makes me shudder with disgust to think about.

Harry doesn't like to talk about the show, either. From what I can guess, he feels guilty that he was with all the other women while he was with me. I've also always had a little suspicion in the back of my mind about Harry's reasons for agreeing to be The Bachelor in the first place- after he appeared on the show his album sales increased by 60%. I never dared to ask him, but after a few months of dating I wondered if his reasons for going on The Bachelor were a little more similar to mine than I originally thought. I wouldn't judge him if they were, but I've never dared to ask, and I never intend to. That's why I'm so surprised he's mentioning the show now.

"I mean, I was pretty young... Don't think I would have said yes." I answer, although I am a little perplexed. What possible reason could Harry have for bringing this up now?

"So you were too young, that's why?" He asks. His tone isn't accusatory at all- rather curious.

"That, and also I barely knew you." I laugh.

"Oh, come on! You knew me!" Harry exclaims, giggling a little as he does so. His joking tone puts me at ease once again.

"Not as well as I do now." I reason. Harry huffs but shrugs and allows me the last word. I chuckle and peck his nose before getting up from my seat. My cake now finished, I place my dirty plate in the dishwasher. When I turn back around Harry seems to be in deep thought, staring into space.

"Harry, are you alright?" I question. This conversation is weird and unexpected and I can't possibly imagined what's spurred it on- not to mention his weird, nervous behaviour.

"Me? I'm great!" Harry shouts jubilantly, although his goofy expression doesn't reach his eyes. I notice how his voice wavers by just the slightest, but don't say anything. I don't feel like debating with him right now.

"Alright then..." I trail off. I begin to saunter away from the kitchen towards the bedroom.

"Where are you going?"

"To get changed." I tell Harry. I'm still in the gross clothes I wore under my uniform at work and I'm itching to get out of them.

"Oh, ok..." He says. I look at him oddly as he remains stationary in his stool at the island.

"Care to help?" I ask, struggling to contain my smirk. I see Harry's eyes widen by just the slightest and then he's smiling.

"God, yes." He's quickly up and following me into the bedroom like a puppy. I laugh as I let him choose my pyjamas: a white silk night gown I received as a present from him 2 years ago and nothing else. I protest, telling him that the apartment is cold and I want to be warm, but he refuses to let me wear anything else.

I roll my eyes and huff in frustration, but comply anyway. I'm not really upset- not at all. I love to have his eyes on me. I let Harry watch as I pull off my shirt and then tug my black pants down. When I'm left in just my bra and panties I know Harry's chest is rising and falling faster than normal, but I don't stop to kiss him or pull him to me. I've always liked to tease him- we both know that.

I unhook my bra and kick off my panties. Harry still makes no move towards me, and surprisingly restrains himself until I pull on the night gown. Impressive- but odd. He would normally be throwing me to the bed by now. I have a feeling his weird behaviour has something to do with his nervous fidgeting. I don't know what he could be anxious about, but it's quite obvious he is.

I tug my tight ponytail out and let my hair fall around my shoulders in soft waves.

"That's better." I sigh blissfully. I can tell Harry agrees, but he still makes no move towards me. I give up on trying to figure out what's gotten into him and instead walk back into the living room.

"Fancy a movie?" I call to Harry who's still standing in the bedroom. He follows me silently as a reply. We sit on the couch and he takes me in his arms while I switch on my favourite movie- Bridget Jones's Diary. Harry hates it, but it's my birthday so he can't complain.

We watch quietly for a while. I let the warmth of Harry's body fill the silence for a while, but I can't help but notice the way his heart beats unusually hard beneath his chest.

"Are you ok?" I ask for the second time tonight. When I look to meet Harry's gaze, he's already staring at me.

"I'm fine." He assures me. This time I don't take no for an answer, though. My brows furrow and I don't let Harry drop my gaze.

"You sure?" I press. Harry flashes me a shy smile and nods vigorously. I eye him skeptically but don't push further. I sigh loudly but turn back to watch the movie nonetheless. Harry's heart is beating even faster, now. I sit for another 10 minutes, but when the pounding doesn't stop I need to get up.

"Would you like a cup of tea?" I ask, looking up to Harry again. He darts his eyes to me and I can see there are small beads of sweat gathering on his forehead. I frown, but once again decide not to mention it. If he didn't answer me the first two times I asked, there's no sense in me trying again. I'll have to let him come to me if I want answers- that's one thing I've learned in the past 4 years.

"Sure, love." He responds. His voice sounds normal, although it is a little quieter than usual. I nod and rise from my seat on top of him. I pad to the kitchen and begin to boil some water. I've got Harry's usual- peppermint with 1 teaspoon of milk and 2 cubes of sugar- on a dish ready to go as I turn around.

Instead of residing on the couch where I left him, Harry is now on one knee, kneeling against the cold marble floor. I don't comprehend exactly what's happening until I see the small black box stretched open in one of his hands. Inside it lies, from what I can see all the way over in the kitchen, a brilliant, shining diamond ring.

I bring my hands to cover my face and the tea in my hands spills to the floor. Harry looks to the cup, now rolling away from my feet, with alarm, but I can't move. I'm frozen. There's no way in hell that he's... he couldn't be...

"Charlotte?" Harry questions. I don't answer him and instead my hands stay glued to my face. He takes a deep breath and begins.

"We haven't been together for that long, I know, but I just... I love you, very much, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. This time I mean it." Harry says. I remain frozen. He's really proposing to me. After all this time, he's finally done it.

This was supposed to happen 4 whole years ago, when him and I barely knew each other. Now that it's happening in real life, not on a TV show, it seems surreal.

"You're not answering me..." Harry says nervously. I still refuse to move. My body is incapable of doing so.

"If you don't- if you don't want to I guess you could just take the ring as a birthday present." Harry stutters, losing his nerve. I can't bear to watch his uncertainty any longer. I know my answer. Of course I know my answer. Why on earth would I still be with Harry if I didn't intend to spend the rest of my life with him, too?

I softly jog over and pull Harry to his feet before kissing him deeply and wrapping myself around him for the second time tonight. We remain in this tender embrace for a while, but Harry pulls away.

"Sorry- Is that a yes? I just, I couldn't tell-"

"It's a yes, you idiot!" I shout, reconnecting our lips. I can feel Harry's wide smile as I try to kiss him and feel a familiar sort of warmth spreading through my body. I felt it when I first started to like him, and I feel it now. Except currently, 4 years on, it's stronger than I ever imagined it could be.

"Of course I'll marry you!" I exclaim. I pull away to examine Harry's face and can see his eyes are a little wet now, glistening with tears. His smile is as bright as the sun, and I'm sure mine matches. He pecks me one last time, sets me down, and slips the gorgeous ring onto my finger before speaking:

"It's about time."