He’s thinking, and I hate the idea that he’s thinking about us. That’s he calculating our odds of making it past tomorrow.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Harper
I wake with a jolt to sunlight and sit straight up to find Eric standing at the window, fully dressed, staring out at the new day, a cup of coffee in his hand. “Oh God,” I murmur. “How long did I sleep? How did I not know you were up? And where is my mother?”
Eric turns to face me, sunshine lighting his blue eyes with a hint of gold, the stretch of his black T-shirt over his perfect chest, awakening all the parts of me that hadn’t yet caught up until now.
“Easy, baby,” he says, crossing to sit down next to me. “Have some coffee.”
I reach up and stroke my fingers down the damp tendrils of hair curling at his temples. “I wish you would have woken me up.”
“We both fell asleep on the couch. I woke about an hour ago and you never even moved. Obviously, you needed rest.” He presses his cup into my hand. “Now you need caffeine.”
“My mother—”
“Is in a hotel room sleeping. She didn’t get in until a few hours ago. Her flight was delayed.”
I breathe out, relieved that I haven’t woken up to hell, but then, I’m with Eric. That isn’t hell at all. It’s heaven, and for a moment, I revel in the fact that I’m here with him. That I fell asleep in his arms. That I get to fall asleep in his arms every single night from here on out. I hope. It’s what I want. I think it’s what he wants as well. I sip the coffee. “It’s delicious,” I say, savoring the chocolatey flavor like I’m savoring this moment with this man. “What is that?”
“Reese’s peanut butter cup creamer.”
“Okay, no wonder. That’s sinful.”
He laughs, his lips curving into a smile, and God he has beautiful lips. Why can’t I just think about this wonderful coffee and this sexy man’s mouth all day and night? “Drink my cup,” he says. “I’ll grab another.” He stands up and heads toward the kitchen, a hero who gives away his Reese’s coffee for his woman. What more could a girl want?
More of him.
I want more of him.
Exactly why I stand up and follow him, remotely aware of the fact that my hair must be standing on end, and my make-up smudged everywhere, but I don’t care. I feel that comfortable with Eric. I feel that at home here, and so very easily, and that’s a bit surreal. Everyone wants that kind of comfort with another human being, but how often do they find it?
Eric makes a beeline for the coffee pot and reaches above it to a cabinet to remove another cup. I stop at the island behind him. Obviously aware that I’m here, he eyes me over his shoulder. “You should explore the cabinets. Find out what’s here. We can go shopping.” He fills his cup and turns to me. “We need to make this your home, too.” He walks to the fridge, grabs the creamer and pours a healthy dose in with his coffee.
“You’re here.” I set my cup down. “That’s all that matters. I don’t care about the superficial things. I care ab
out us.” I think about his comments last night. About him asking me if I believe in him. “You know that, right? Nothing she says will change that.” I don’t have to name the “she.” We both know it’s my mother.
He puts away the creamer and steps to the island across from me. “I know, baby. I know.”
“Then why am I not at her hotel right now getting this over with?”
“We need to watch her. We need to see who she meets. What she does.”
“No, I don’t want to wait. I’ll make her talk.”
“We need to step back—”
“No more stepping back. We need that peace you claimed for us yesterday to last. I need that. You need that. I’m going to shower and then I need to just go see her, Eric.” I sip the coffee. “Decision made. I need to get this over with.”
“We need—”
“Each other,” I say leaning on the counter.
His eyes warm. “Yes. We do. I need you, Harper. Don’t forget that.”
“I hate that you feel the need to remind me of such a thing. I can’t forget I need you. I didn’t for six years. Why would I start now?”