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“When in reality, he was just a drop kick?”
She tightened her mouth into a smile that was more like a grimace. “Yep.” Her eyes slid to his. “I’m glad that Charlotte won’t worry about that. Despite…I mean, this wedding obviously isn’t what you or I personally want,” she said quietly, so he felt a spark of guilt at the fact they were even getting married at all. “But it’s going to be nice for Charlotte to have you there.”
He thought of the thousands of things he could have said, and didn’t, because they had to be so careful not to let what they were doing bleed into something else entirely.
“I presume Charlotte’s the reason you didn’t go back to school?”
Surprise at the quick conversation change was evident in her expression but she picked up the threads quickly. “I had to put it on hold a while, yeah.”
“But now you could enroll.”
She blinked at him. “Really?”
“You think you need my permission?”
“NO,” she pulled a face, that involved scrunching up her forehead and looking heavenward at the same time she poked out her tongue, and a fire of need burst through him, knocking him off kilter. “I just meant…I could. I guess.”
“Especially with a nanny…”
She rolled her eyes properly now. “You’ve always got an agenda, haven’t you?”
He smiled, and shrugged, because he didn’t want to admit that his only agenda, in that moment, had been encouraging Abby to reach for whatever star she wanted.
Chapter12
ABBY HADN’T ALWAYS been a light sleeper, but since Charlotte was born, something had changed, and despite the fact the little girl tended to go through the night, Abby was always partly awake, ready to move if Charlotte should stir. Which was why the noise woke her instantly.
Deep and gruff, it wasn’t Charlotte, but it wassomething.She pushed back the covers, heart racing, pulling the door open quickly and listening. Silence. The penthouse was dark. What time was it? She glanced down at her wrist, squinting to make out the time. Just past two.
She stood there a moment, but everything remained silent. Her heart wouldn’t quit racing, though, and out of an abundance of caution, she decided to check on Charlotte. Moving quietly down the corridor, navigating the short distance from her room to Charlotte’s by feeling the wall, she tiptoed in, and over to their daughter. The nightlight cast a gentle glow across the room, so Charlotte could see their little girl was asleep, breathing deeply, her curls in disarray, her cheeks so chubby and adorable.
Abby smiled as she pressed a kiss to Charlotte’s crown, then stepped back. She was at the door to her own room when she heard it again. Louder this time, so the source was unmistakable.
Gray.
Her heart thudded so hard it rocked her ribcage. She hesitated for only a moment before moving towards his door, standing outside of it, listening, until she heard another shout, indiscernible words, his voice louder, frantic, pained.
It was the last descriptor that had her moving, pushing the door inwards and clicking it shut again behind her, before she moved to the bed and stood over him.
The sheet was thrown back, revealing everything above his waist, leaving her with no idea if he was completely naked or not. But his torso was exposed and it moved rapidly with shallow breaths, his face was scrunched, his forehead beaded with perspiration. She stared at him, something hurting in the very middle of her chest, her heart spasming. She ignored it, reaching out and pressing a hand to his shoulder. Lightly. Tentatively. As though she didn’t really want to disturb him.
Another cry and she pressed harder, her fingertips moving towards his cheek. “Gray,” she said, loud enough to wake him.
He moved quickly, one arm lifting, catching her wrist, squeezing it tight as he removed it, his eyes pinging to her without really seeing her, his expression showing that he was lost, confused, unsure. Threatened. Defending himself. He stared at her, breath ragged, until he made a noise, a small groan.
A second later, he released his grip on her arm and seemed to relax. But he didn’t really. She could see the tension in the lines of his body and needed to understand.
“It’s okay,” she said softly, sitting down on the edge of the bed and absentmindedly putting her hand over the wrist he’d grabbed, trying to remove the heat that was simmering in her veins there.
“I hurt you.” The words were laced with angry self-condemnation.
“No,” she said huskily. “I’m fine.”
He swore under his breath, dragging a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry. It was – I was –,”
“You were dreaming,” she said gently. “And not the good kind.”
His eyes skimmed hers, just enough light filtering into his room from the city beyond his window that she could make out his features. “No. Not the good kind.” The admission was gruff.
