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.”
