Page 36 of Shatter

But I push on.

"I don't want you to think you owe me because I was a decent human being last night and this morning." She stares at me like I've sprouted another head, and honestly, it kinda feels like it. I have a gorgeous woman offering me sex, or a blow job, or whatever she was going to offer, and I'm rejecting her. It is crazy. I feel crazy.

"And we haven't talked about this," I say, waving a finger between her and my chest. "About what this is... what we are to each other... and I wanted to give you more time to recover from yesterday..." I'm rambling now, but her confused silence makes me uncomfortable.

"We have a laundry list of things we need to do now. A public statement is only the beginning. You don't have any clothes. I have a feeling your parents are going to file a missing persons report, so we'll have to deal with that. We need to review the contract you have with your agent so we know what your options are going forward. And that's just the first things that come to mind. But, right now, I want you to relax. Breathe. Sleep if you need to. Eat. Just be..."

It's the longest monologue I've ever said, but I'm desperate to get her to understand me. I'd like nothing more than to bend her over the arm of this couch, wrap my fist around her long hair and make her scream my name. But that's not what she needs right now. She needs a few hours to breathe; a safe space where no one is asking anything of her.

Tomorrow we'll figure out the rest of her life.

Stunned, she nods, sliding off of my lap and onto the couch next to me.

Her silence is unnatural, and her distance is punishing.

So, I wrap my arm around her and drag her down to the couch, laying us on our sides so I'm the big spoon, letting her rest her head on my bicep as I scroll through my selection of movies.

I drop a kiss to her hair. "Let me know if any stand out."

"Ooo, that one!" she squeals, wiggling in my arms and pointing at the TV. Princess Bride is selected. "I haven't watched that since I was a kid!"

The happiness in her voice is reassuring, so I click on it and let it play. We watch in silence for a while, but I'm barely paying attention. My entire focus is on the woman in my arms - her soft hair, her gentle breathing, her chuckles at funny scenes, and her quoting iconic lines along with the actors.

"I thought you didn't want me," she whispers, and the confession is so quiet I almost don't hear it.

"What?"

"In your bedroom, and then just now, on the couch. I've never been rejected before. It hurts more than I thought it would."

I scoot back so I can turn her onto her back and keep us both on the couch. The blue eyes that look up at me shine with tears. I drop a kiss to her forehead. I don't know what it is about her that makes me so touchy-feely, but with her, the urge to touch her, kiss her, caress her is constant.

"That wasn't me rejecting you, Mel. You have to know that," I say, imploring her to understand me. I tuck a strand of honey-blonde hair behind her ear. "I want you. Always." I press my cock into her hip for emphasis. Her cheeks flush the cutest shade of pink. "I'm trying to be the responsible adult in this situation."

She rolls her eyes at me. "Don't talk to me like I'm a child, Harry. Nothing will turn me off faster."

I'm shaking my head 'no' before she even finishes the sentence. "That's not what I meant. What I meant was that I'll always want you, but I want what's best for you more."

Her gaze softens, and she brings her hand to my cheek, dragging her thumb through my five-o'clock shadow.

"I've never met anyone like you," she whispers, and my heart aches for her.

"I'm not special, Little Bird."

"That's where you're wrong."

I shrug. If she wants to think I'm different because I give a shit about her, who am I to argue? She'll find all my flaws and move on soon enough. It'll be hard the day she decides to move on with her life. But I know I'll always be in her corner.

A phone vibrates with a call from somewhere in the condo, but neither of us makes any effort to answer it. The vibration stops before starting up again immediately, breaking the moment.

She sighs, annoyed, and gets up, walking to the kitchen.

"Parker?" She says, answering the phone. I sit up immediately, watching the microexpressions on her face. She walks back into the living room, taking the remote from the coffee table and flicking through my streaming apps until she finds what she wants.

Suddenly, her mother appears. On a stage. With Marty and Chris in the background.

"Goddamnit," I growl.

"We ask for privacy for our family during this trying time." Athena starts, and brings a tissue to the corner of her eye. It's so performative it's laughable. She's not a good actress.