Back to you and me - Larry

CHAPTER TWELVE

I wake up to a hand covering my eyes. I momentarily panic, but then the hand is removed and Harry is looking at me with a curious expression.

"It's only me," he says. "I was just making sure the sun wasn't bothering you. I wore you out last night, so we forgot to close to curtains."

He did wear me out last night, only his last night isn't my last night, because we're not in a hotel in Amsterdam. I don't recognise our bedroom because it's not the same as the one I woke up to when I realised he was dead, but it's the same wedding photos that are on our dresser.

"Right," I say, meeting Harry's eyes again—the silk sheets are certainly his idea, but the mirror in the ceiling is probably mine. "You're sweet."

"You're sweet," he grins, pulling me closer against his naked body. "Did you have some nice dreams?"

"Dreamt about you."

He smiles as he brushes our noses together. "You always say that."

I'm not sure what to say. I'm not even sure what's going on, but I must have made it to a reality without any problems. I admittedly didn't think it was going to happen, but my emotions are suddenly all over the place because I can't remember how we got here. Things weren't much different in Amsterdam, but I was so concentrated on saving his ass that I didn't spend a moment concentrating on the rest—on this.

"I have to pee, H."

He groans but releases his hold on me so I can slip into our bathroom. There's a bathtub and a separate shower with no less than two shower heads—an idea I probably haven't disagreed with. It's a proper nice bathroom size, especially when it's attached to our bedroom.

I turn on the water so I can wash away my unnecessary bewilderment. I know what's going on—we're still together and married and sharing a place that's much bigger than whatever apartment we shared yesterday. I wonder when we moved in here instead.

"Baby," Harry says, stepping into the shower and making me close my eyes when he presses his thumbs into the dimples at the bottom of my spine. "I thought you were coming back to bed."

"I wanted a shower."

"Can I stay?"

"Sure."

He washes my hair and works the shampoo into it until I'm leaning back against his body. He's hard against my lower back—he's so tall—but he's not trying anything, only keeps washing my hair as he leaves kisses across my shoulders and "removes" them when he runs his soapy hands over them.

"How many clients do you have today?"

"Don't remember," I admit. "But it's Saturday, so probably too many."

I only work every other Saturday because I want some at home as well, but today must be a workday when Harry is acting as though.

He hums in response. "I wanna take you out tonight. I know date-night was yesterday, but I'm sure Mum won't mind keeping Fizzy another night."

"Fizzy?"

He hums again. "I'm gonna edit some photos today, but I want her home in the meantime. And then I'm gonna bring her back to Mum's before I pick you up."

My eyebrows knit together, but we obviously have a daughter—a daughter named Fizzy. "Right."

"Love, are you okay?"

"I'm tired."

"I love you when you're tired. I love you always, but especially when you're sleepy."

I turn around to look at him, running my hands down his arms—it's strange, yet sweet that our tattoos match—then reach between us to wrap my hand around his cock. "I love you."