Winning Hollywood's Goodest Girl

Harrison glances down at the sweet little angel on his chest and presses a kiss to her forehead. “Our daughter is something, isn’t she?”

“She’s everything,” I whisper back, and unbidden tears start to fill my eyes. “Our little family is everything.”

His green eyes turn soft. “I know. I’ve never been happier in my whole damn life.”

“Me too.”

His face morphs from contentedness to a weird mix of serious and playful. His eyes, they’re alight, but the smile I’m used to finding comfort in is notably missing.

I can’t help but question it. “What? What is it?”

“I just…” He shakes his head a little, and my breath catches in my throat. “I have a little bit of bad news for you.”

My hand flies to my chest, settling onto the top of my racing heart. “What is it?”

“I’m going to marry you.” A surprised laugh escapes from my lips as a smile takes hold at the corner of his mouth and makes a dash across his face. “And I won’t take no for an answer.”

I could kill him for worrying me like that, but then I wouldn’t have a husband. Geez. A husband. The sound of forever with Harrison Hughes is so good, I have to use every single year of experience I’ve spent building my acting chops to make being aloof even the tiniest bit convincing. “Is that right?”

“Oh, baby, it is so right,” he responds with a sexy smirk and sits up to place a still-sleeping Ellie inside the hospital bassinet.

Before I know it, he’s sitting on the bed beside me like some sort of jujitsu master—or someone who doesn’t have on a giant pair of hospital underwear, a sore vagina, and an ice pack stuffed between their legs. I can only dream of a time when I’ll be able to move that quickly again.

He stares earnestly into my eyes and holds both of my hands in his. “I want us to be a family forever, Rock. You and Ellie, you’re my life now, and I don’t ever want that to change.”

Me either. If I never have to live another day without the two of them, it’ll still end too soon.

“So, you’re just skipping the whole proposal thing and going straight to demanding marriage?”

“Yes. I demand that you let me love you forever.” He grins. “I want to be the person in your life you can count on—who loves you, cares for you, protects you, supports you. I want to be your husband.”

“And I want to be your wife,” I answer, without hesitation, all vestiges of teasing gone. I want him to see my heart through my eyes—to hear my love in my voice.

“Is that right?” he asks and leans forward to press a soft kiss to my lips.

“That’s right,” I whisper against his mouth. “But now, I have some bad news for you.”

He leans back and stares into my eyes.

I’m certain I want to marry this man more than I’ve probably ever wanted to do anything. But I don’t want the typical wedding. I’ve spent my whole life in the spotlight, and the moment we commit to each other for the rest of our lives, I want those words to be spoken without flashing cameras and wedding planners and anything else that could distract us from what is the most important part—Harrison and me and the love that brought our sweet little angel into this world.

“We’re going to elope.”

“No big wedding?” he asks, and I shake my head.

“Just me, you, and Ellie.”

He smiles and kisses me once more. “Sounds perfect, baby, and not at all bad.”

I shake my head with a smile and then let out a little laugh. “Yeah, that’s not the bad part.”

His eyebrows draw together. “Then what is?”

“You have to tell your friends.”

The very next morning, we are up early, packing up for our big exit from the hospital.

I can’t deny that it’s going to be a relief to be at Harrison’s apartment for a week or two until we’re ready to head back to LA. The hospital staff here has been so wonderful to us, but it’s time we officially start our lives as a family of three.

Ellie is dressed in the cutest little flower-embossed onesie with a pretty pink bow on her head, safely strapped into her car seat and ready to hit the road. And I’m comfy and cozy in yoga pants and a T-shirt, my postpartum belly still poking out beneath my clothes. And I’m doing a great job of bypassing the whole situation between my legs—carnage and a pad so big it could absorb an oil spill from a 747—and just acting like it doesn’t exist.

Harrison tucks the last of the gifts from his friends into one of our seventeen bags and laughs. “I wonder if they realize that we also need to fit a baby into the car.”