Page 97 of #Moonstruck

That made him laugh. “I’m going to go take a very cold shower.” He gave me a quick kiss. There was a spiral metal staircase on the south side of the apartment, and he followed it upstairs. “You’re more than welcome to join me.”

“I’m good.” I was trying desperately not to think about him undressing.

I walked around, giving myself a little tour. It was probably supposed to be a bachelor pad, but the apartment didn’t give off that vibe. It felt like a family should live here and fill this vast space with love and memories.

The weird thing was, I could see this being my home. I could envision myself in this corner of the apartment, next to the piano, writing a new hit song. Holding a baby while a toddler played at my feet. Ryan chasing our oldest in circles around the kitchen island. I could hear the laughter and feel the love and the happiness.

Maybe I was being overly sentimental because the tour was ending, or maybe it was because ever since he’d first brought up the idea of marriage and babies, I’d spent an inordinate amount of time thinking about it. Imagining it.

Now I wanted what I was imagining. Despite how scary and life-ruining it had always seemed before, spending all that time with Ryan had changed how I felt. I wanted a commitment and kids and everything. Some people might have thought I was too young, but I’d had to grow up practically overnight after my mom’s accident. I’d been an adult for a long time.

Despite my rules, I wanted all of it with Ryan. Which overwhelmed me and then made me all emotional.

Ryan found me in the middle of the living room, crying.

“Sweetheart, what happened?” He sat down on the couch next to me and pulled me onto his lap. “Did you go online again?”

His still-wet hair dripped against my skin. “I’ve thought about it.”

“Thought about what? Going online?”

“No. Our future.”

A second earlier his hands had been stroking my hair and rubbing my back, and then he went totally still.

“And?”

“I can see you in mine. I can see marriage and babies.”

“And it makes you cry?”

“It doesn’t make me cry like that,” I told him. “The idea of it happening makes me happy. For someday. Not tomorrow or anything.”

He let out an exaggerated sigh. “That means I’ll have to cancel the private jet to Vegas.”

“Ha ha. Like you’d get on a plane.”

“For you I might consider it.” His hands went back to soothing me.

“You really love me that much?”

“I do. And, hey, maybe you should practice saying ‘I do.’ Not for any particular reason. Just in case.”

“Ryan?” I turned my face up. “I do.”

Then I kissed him. I kissed him with all the hope, all the longing, all the dreams and promises of someday bursting inside me. Every cell inside me exploded with light, heat, and happiness.

He kissed me so softly and tenderly that I sighed against his lips. “Promise me something,” I said.

“Anything.”

“Promise me I can trust you.”

He pulled back, his eyes serious, his expression truthful. “I promise you can trust me.”

The next few words nearly caught in my throat. “Promise me you’ll never hurt me.”

Ryan blinked, nothing wavering on his face. “I promise I’ll never hurt you.”