Page 74 of Shatter

I kiss her belly button.

I know I'm avoiding looking at her, but the ball of emotion currently lodged in my throat is embarrassing.

She slides up the mattress, and comes to her knees, holding my face in her hand, bringing my gaze up to hers. "I'm serious, Harrison. I want this. I want you. For the rest of my life."

My breath hitches. We brat and tease and play with each other. We've never really done serious, and here she is, laying it all out in the open for me. She's braver than I am.

"I'm not too old?" I ask, giving voice to my biggest fear. She's proven to me again and again that my scars don't bother her. I don't really care if they bother anyone else. But I'm a decade older than her. I'll be forty when she's thirty. Fifty when she's forty. I'll probably pass before she does. Is it worth signing up to be a widow?

Her answering smile is soft and adoring. She drops a soft, sweet kiss to my lips. "You're the best man I've ever known, no matter how old you are." Then her smile kicks up on one side. "But I'm going to tease you about your age for the rest of our lives, old man."

"Did you just propose to me?" I tease back.

"Fuck no, I'm just telling you that you need to start planning to propose to me. We're not getting any younger here, and I want you to have enough energy to help with the kids, so get a start on it..."

She teases, sliding off the bed and sauntering into the hallway, adding an extra sway to her hips, and then peeking over her shoulder to find me staring at her ass.

"Perv," she teases before laughing and shutting the door behind her.

I flop onto my back and rest my hands on my chest and sigh happily. Fuck. Me. Married. A husband. With a wife. And family. God, how could I ever have gotten so lucky?

That night I fell asleep with the woman I loved in my arms, not knowing tomorrow everything would end.

Chapter thirty-nine

Abby

Iwake up at two AM with a start. I'd been dreaming about Harrison. About lazy Sunday mornings, and a pair of dark haired kids. But then my mother appeared and grabbed the little girl by the arm and pulled her away before I could get to her. In my nightmare I was screaming but no sound was coming out. Chasing after them but my legs wouldn't work.

Harrison's blissfully asleep next to me, but I'm wide awake now. I slide out from under his heavy arm and walk silently into the living room.

Grabbing a throw blanket from the couch, I stand by the floor to ceiling windows and look at the apartment building across the road. I can't see the street from here because of the balcony, but I let my eyes drift across each window, and every apartment. Some still have their lights on, but most are dark. I think about every person living in each unit. How they all have their own struggles and stories. Every person is an entire lifetime of stories and decisions. Of friendships and coworkers. Of goals and dreams. Of fears. Of struggles.

Which is really why I'm out here. There is only one thing keeping me from having Harrison the way that I want. My mother. The conservatorship. My agent.

I don't care about what the public will think. I'll make an announcement that I'm quitting acting and that's it. Some will gossip, some will rage, some will be happy for me. But that'll only last for as long as the next news cycle happens and then they'll forget about Melody Snow.

My mother.

My stomach sours. Tomorrow I'll call Mr. Whitmoore and see what we can do legally. I'm not sure if she's signed contracts for me recently that I might have to honor. But no more.

And I want my money.

If there's any left.

"Can't sleep?" a baritone voice asks from behind me and I startle. But when I turn and see a sleep-rumpled Harrison my heart softens. His hair is messy and his eyes are squinting. God, he's cute like this.

I let my eyes roam his naked chest and arms - how safe I feel when I'm in them. How natural it feels to be with him. Like this was always the way it was meant to be.

But determination settles deep in my veins. Because to have him, I have to address my mother first.

"I'd like to talk to Mr. Whitmoore tomorrow. I want free."

Those strong arms I love so much wrap around me from behind.

"Anything you want."

"You spoil me," I tease, without any real heat behind my words, because they're true. He does spoil me. And I don't mind one bit. If the first half of my life was sacrifice and struggle, I'll happily let the second half be spoiled.