Fists and Knives (A Harry Styles Fanfiction)

Epilogue - Part 1

"My tomato pie is just phenomenal, Kennedy.  You've done it again," Mrs. Julie said as her husband shoved another bite of the pie into his mouth and nodded.  They were regulars here at my restaurant, a quaint little place outside of the city called "Kitchen under the Balcony".  After a few months of traveling all around North America to Europe and then to Africa (where I gave birth to Tommy - Egypt to be more specific), Harry and I decided that our favorite foods were from the southern part of North America.  I'm talking lots of grits, okra, bar-b-que, cornbread, fried chicken, biscuits... it seemed so random, but Harry couldn't get enough of it and neither could some of the New Yorkers.  Not the high-end place that I always dreamed about, but I had come to love it.  The food was different from what was usually in the city, and therefore, business was constantly booming.  I almost wished we had a bigger place, but the current size of the restaurant gave me the opportunity to really get to know the customers - especially the regulars.  And boy, did they get to know my family too.

"Can I have a bite?" Tommy asked, his head of curly, brown hair popping up at the edge of the table where Mrs. Julie was sitting.  He put his nose on the edge of the table, and half of his head was covered by my apron. 

"No, Tommy, your lunch is upstairs," I whispered, gripping his shoulder and trying to lead him away.  

"Oh, it's okay!  We have plenty of pie here," Mrs. Julie's husband laughed, his old hand shakily scooping up a bite of the pie and holding it out for Tommy.  Tommy stood on his toes and gladly swallowed the bite whole. 

"Okay, say thank you and go back upstai-"

"I want a bite too!" Suddenly, Milo was running up to the table too with his daddy's old, red bandana tied around his curly, brown hair.  The fabric was sliding down his face.  I scooped down and caught him around the waist, picking up his brother Tommy, too.  It was only after I started to try and carry them to the kitchen that I realized their third brother was wrapping himself around my leg.

"Cameron, we don't have time for this.  Mommy has to work," I said, dragging him along the floor and carrying the other two over my shoulders.  Mrs. Julie and a few of the other customers laughed at our spectacle. 

"Where is Papa Styles today?" One of the customers asked. 

"DADDY!" my three boys screamed, all squirming and letting go of me at the mention of their father.  They scurried through the kitchen and I assumed up the stairs to where we lived above the restaurant.  

I sighed and put my hands on my hips.  "Papa Styles was supposed to be watching those three this morning, but I guess he got a little preoccupied with the baby." 

"Ohhh!" Another regular, Lisa, squealed.  "How is the baby? You look fantastic for just giving birth, by the way!!" 

"Thank you," I laughed, putting my hand over my stomach.  "The baby is perfect.  Doesn't cry much and eats like an adult.  Harry won't leave her alone for even a second." 

"Uh-oh," Lisa laughed.  "She's going to be a daddy's girl." 

I took my apron off and slung it over my shoulder.  "I think she already is!"

As I walked through the kitchen, I patted my assistant chef Jerrod on the shoulder and nodded to Mikey, our second waiter.  "Can you guys take over while I run upstairs?"  They nodded.  I acted as both a chef and a waiter in here while Harry often played with the kids.  Tommy was six, Milo was five, Cameron was four, and Gabe, who I hoped was still upstairs with Harry, was three.  I had four boys and they all looked like Harry.  Harry loved the boys to death, being able to wrestle with them and teach them to burp and fart (great, right?), but I could tell he was dying for a girl.  We kept trying and trying, hence, the FOUR boys, and right when we were about to call it quits, I got pregnant again with a girl.