Chapter Twenty-Two
It wasn’t like things went from zero to a hundred right away.
It started with just… a friendly conversation while Harrison cooked. And some gentle teasing when his ears went red as the stream started playing on the big TV.
Over dinner, he told me stories about boarding school summer camp that I couldn’t relate to, and college, which I could.
“You never mentioned you went to college.”
“I did. Finished too. My parents really wanted me to go.”
“What was your major?”
To that, I shot him a little smile.
“Finance.”
“Of course.”
“I mostly spent my time partying. And hustling frat jerks in games of strip poker. I had a collection of shoes on display in my room from men I’d gotten completely naked. I was famous for it.”
“So you’ve always liked winning.”
“And putting cocky guys in their place. We can’t forget that.”
“So why finance?”
“I was always good with numbers. And it seemed like a degree that could give me a choice of a bunch of different careers when I was done. Until I realized poker could be a profession if you were ambitious enough.”
“I can’t picture you as an analyst or auditor.”
“I know, right? But I think you might be right about the stock market.”
“Didn’t you study it in college?”
“Yeah. I mean the basics on how it works. But at the time, it just sounded as boring as all the rest of my classes.”
“I don’t think anyone is excited about a career in finance or business.”
“Did you dread it? Want to do something different?”
“I wanted a year to travel,” Harrison admitted. “But that was not an option. I had a cubicle on the first floor waiting for me.”
“Wait, what?”
“I had to start at the bottom out of college. My father believed that I could never know the company until I knew every aspect of it. I hate to admit it, but he was right about that. No one knows that company like I do.”
“Where did you want to travel?”
“I wanted to see everything. I’ve visited several countries over the years, but I haven’t been able to really immerse myself for any length of time. What have been your favorite places?”
“I mean, I’m a big city girl. So I’ve loved all of them. Tokyo, Mexico City, Hong Kong, Bangkok, Istanbul… I could go on and on.”
“So nothing that isn’t a big city?”
“No, I like more rural places on occasion. I mean, my cousin and her husband have a private island. And a set of eco hotels in the rainforest.”
“Wait. Is your cousin married to Warwick Hughs?”
I guess I hadn’t told him everything.
“She is. Violet was the skip tracer who chased him through the Rainforest with assassins on their heels. They fell in love along the way.”
“So she didn’t turn him in.”
“Oh, she turned him in, alright. But only after they proved he was innocent of all those insider trader accusations.”
“I’m going to need more details on this.”
So I gave them to him as he cleaned up dinner and I made us coffee.
It was positively domestic.
Easy.
Oddly familiar.
The only downside of it was when he sighed and declared he had to shut himself in his office for an hour or two.
“This late?” I asked, checking the clock.
“I have a call with Singapore. And all signs point to it being a long one.”
He made his way to his study.
I went back to the coffee machine, making him another (larger) mug and bringing it into the room.
Seeing his laptop open with voices coming from the other end, sounding like everyone was still getting settled, I tried to stay out of the camera view as I dropped his coffee on the desk.
Harrison was having none of that, though.
He reached for me, pulled me down, and planted a quick kiss on my cheek before releasing me.
My heart flipped.
When I got to the door, I found he was still watching me with that soft look.
I gave him a small smile before sliding the door closed.
For the next two hours, I cleaned up the mess I’d created in my room, putting things away, piling the boxes in the closet.
When I made my way back out to the common area, I could still hear Harrison’s calm voice through the door.
I took the last of the coffee that was dangerously close to tasting burnt, then cleaned out the pot and went back into my room to read the unhinged book my aunt had suggested.
At some point, I started to doze off, so I set the book aside and let myself.
Only to wake up from a dream that had my heart racing. But not in a good way. It was a weird, long one that had me sitting by silently as Harrison listed all of the reasons he could never love me.
I reached up and wiped the sudden tear off my cheek.
Then, without really thinking it through, I climbed off the bed and walked out of the room.
I didn’t stop when my legs carried me away from the common area and down the hallway toward the primary bedroom.
The room was dark and quiet, save for those under-cabinet lights making the bathroom glow a bit.
Harrison was in bed, the covers down around his waist, exposing his naked chest and abdomen.
But it wasn’t heat I felt.
It was comfort.
It was a deeper kind of need.
I made my way closer to the bed.
“Harrison?” I whispered.
My husband, it seemed, was an extremely light sleeper.
His eyes snapped open, pinning me instantly.
“You okay?” he asked, his voice sleep-rough.
“Can I sleep here?” I asked.
He said nothing for a moment.
He just slid backward, making space for me, and held up the blankets.
It’s almost embarrassing how quickly I slid in.
The space was warm from his body even as he pulled the covers over me to trap in both our body heat.
His arm wrapped around me.
His chin came down on the top of my head.
“Better?” he asked, seeming to sense something off.
“Yeah. I had a bad dream.”
“What happened?” he asked, his fingers lazily sifting through my hair.
“You were giving me a monologue of all the reasons you could never love someone like me.”
Harrison’s hand stilled.
“However many reasons your subconscious came up with, I could name twice as many reasons you are very lovable.”
My heart felt all mushy at that.
“You barely know me.”
“Sweetheart, I think I might know you better than anyone else. I might not have all the inside stories—yet—but I see you for exactly who you are. Not how you relate to others, not who you are in the larger family narrative. I see just… you.”
There was that melting feeling in my heart again.
“I recognize that there is still a lot to learn and see. But there’s nothing yet that would have me claiming it is unlovable.”
“I’m pretty unpleasant early in the morning.”
“That’s why you get to sleep in.”
“I’m a terrible patient.”
“I don’t mind complaining.”
“Oh, no. I don’t complain. I could be on my deathbed and still trying to do all the things.”
“Wanna bet I can convince you to stay in bed?”
“This is a nice bed,” I admitted. “The guest bed is decent. But this one is the right mix of soft and firm.”
“You’ll be really amazed if you actually sleep in it.”
“Is that a nice way to tell me to shut up and go to sleep?” I asked, my lips curving up.
“I have to be up in five hours.”
“Sleep in for once.”
“I can’t.”
“You don’t have to work out every day.”
“I was thinking about a different kind of workout,” he said, arms tightening around me.
“Well, then. I’ll try to sleep then.”
I didn’t.
Even as I felt his breathing go deep and slow, as his body went slack and I knew he had passed out.
I just stayed there in his arms, wide awake, taking in the feel of him, sinking into his warmth, listening to his heartbeat.
Until I saw the clock inch closer to his wakeup time.
Then, well, I decided to wake him up in a much more pleasant way than an alarm clock.
A low rumble in his chest was the first sign that he was waking up as my lips kissed across his warm skin.
His fingers flexed on my hip.
I leaned forward, pushing him flat, then kissing down his chest, stomach, lower.
Then, well, Harrison got a whole different kind of morning workout.
“That’s one hell of a way to wake up,” he decided, breathless, afterward, smiling up at the ceiling. “How long have you been up?”
I let out a big yawn.
“I haven’t been to sleep yet.”
That got a small chuckle out of him.
“Guess I can’t ask you to meet me at the office to go out for lunch today then.”
“I’m sure I can drag myself out of bed by noon. I have nothing else to do today.”
“Sure you do,” he said, leaning over to press a kiss to my cheek. “You need to move your things in here.”
“Yeah?” I asked, sitting up to watch the view as he got off the bed. “Still no regrets?”
Harrison stopped mid-stride, walked back toward the bed, grabbed my ankles, and dragged me to the end of the bed.
“Sweetheart, if you thought going to sleep with you in my arms and waking up to… all that,” he said, nodding toward the bed, “was going to make me change my mind about you, you’re crazier than I thought. ”
“Well, I have been known to be a little crazy. I mean… I once married a practical stranger in Vegas.”
“And it was the best damn decision either of us has ever made.”
I was starting to think he was right about that.