Sage

64

Ellie.

Harry was up to something, and I had yet to figure it out.

The special news he had to tell me last night was a simple phrase, "I took off of work tomorrow,"

We were halfway through the Scottish rumbledethumps as he told me this with a lopsided grin and gleaming eyes. He followed with nothing, simply shoving another forkful of food into his mouth, lifting his brows in pleasure, and offering another muffled compliment about its flavor.

"Why did you take off?" I couldn't help but ask. This was one of the most stressful times for his career. He literally couldn't afford not to be there. While I miss him like crazy when he's gone, I'm not sure I'd want him taking days off if not absolutely necessary. God knows he'll need those for when the baby gets here, anyway.

He looked up at me again, this time over his glass of whiskey as he took a sip. A smirk hid behind his drink as he shrugged.

"No reason,"

Another compliment was given about the food, preventing me from questioning him further.

There was definitely a reason, though. I just hadn't figured it out yet.

It didn't help that my mind was already spinning with the startling yet obvious realization I'd come to yesterday.

As Harry and I cleaned up after our meal, making small talk and jokes about his day, I began to associate every little thing he did with one of the many reasons I felt the way I did about him.

It was hard not to fall in love with the way he constantly used his palm to brush his overgrown hair from in front of his forehead while he washed the dishes. Or the way he only chewed his food on the left side of his mouth because it "tasted better". It seemed that no matter what he did, my heart lit up in places I never knew it could, and the word became impossible to ignore.

I was in love with this man, and have been for a while.

I don't know when it started. Whether it was a switch that flicked in me or something that brewed over the months we'd known each other. I couldn't say it was love at first sight because that'd be a fucking lie. Infatuation, maybe. Lust? Maybe. But love? No. This was something that happened far after that night I gave him his tattoo.

I stayed up watching him sleep last night, the moon creating a soft white glow over his chiseled features making my mind race and calm itself at the same time.

His lips were parted open slightly, showing his front teeth and a little bit of drool that spilled from the corner of his mouth. He'd been lying as he usually did, on his stomach with one knee hiked up and the other outstretched. Instead of using the pillow the right way, he munched it up and hugged it under his cheek. He's a full-grown man and sleeps like a child.

But I love him for it.

Maybe it started the day he'd brought me my first jar of mayo, or the day he roughed up those perverted teenage boys.

Maybe it started the moment I looked into his eyes with the intent to understand them, rather than hate them. Even with them closed, I could still see the specs of honey brown swimming around his green irises. I could still see the constant sparkle that never seemed to dim.

It scared me and excited me at the same time. I knew it wasn't a big deal, or at least it shouldn't be. He's not only my boyfriend but the father of my child; it isn't like the idea is too far-fetched. I just didn't know how I'd tell him. I trusted Debra's words that he felt a fraction of what I felt for him, but that didn't mean I wasn't terrified of being turned down. I spent my entire life being a bitch to people to avoid rejection and vulnerability. It was a facade that was dropping with Harry, and fast.