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Harry seems to be getting uncomfortable and mildly frustrated. "Willow, look at me." He's waiting until he has my full attention. "That wasn't just great sex. You don't feel that intensity without a serious conn...
It's time to control these thoughts, I have no business being concerned with his previous relationships or escapades with other women. In my right mind I know this, but my broken parts continue to question his past. I rest my body against the vanity and stare at myself in the mirror. I need to get out of my head, and my only chance is to have some personal dialogue.
"Willow, stop it, this man loves you. He wants you here, and no one else. You need to stop questioning everything. Let the good happen, enjoy it for once. He's genuine and you know this, you can feel it in your soul. Just get yourself together and don't question being worthy of his love."
I haven't taken my eyes off my reflection, slowly a grin of personal satisfaction graces my face. Within a few days of knowing Harry, his confidence has inspired me to find ways to love myself. I want to take this opportunity to welcome true happiness into my life. I've had many talks like this, but not once have they resulted in such contentment. Finally, all my worries surrounding this inanimate object have disappeared.
I slip the fabric over my shoulders, it's delicate and comforting. By curious instinct I check the label and I discover the reason for the heavenly softness. The robe is from Yves Delorme, which sells nothing but high-quality items which I could never afford. Harry isn't materialistic the way some people assume, but he's adamant about surrounding himself in quality and comfort. This appears to be one of the items he insists indulging in.
I tiptoe down the stairs to sneak a peek of his surprise. Harry is running around wearing a pair of loose joggers, and his hair is up in a man bun, which is excessively sexy by the way. I've never seen this side of him before. He enjoys his privacy and it's rare for him to share elements of his casual comfort. Now that I've seen it, I love it and I couldn't possibly be more smitten by him.
He's created an intimate setting by the fireplace. My heart is warmed by his act of chivalry. The fire is going and there's several pillows and blankets spread around which creates a bed that looks like it's floating above the marble floor.
I know the food has arrived when its fragrance slowly creeps into my senses. It's been almost a day since I've eaten anything, and I'm famished. Stepping into the living room I clear my throat to get his attention. His face softens into a brilliant smile as he motions towards his masterpiece.
"So, what do you think?" His eyes are begging for approval.
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"You didn't have to do all of this, but it's absolutely perfect. Stop spoiling me or I'll expect it on every occasion."
"I like spoiling you. So...are you hungry?"
"Yes, I'm starving. I'm curious, how did you get the food here so fast and where did it come from?"
"I know some people who pulled some strings. I hope you like Italian, it's from The Nice Guy."
"I love Italian food. But isn't the Nice Guy that place on La Cienga? I wasn't aware they had delivery."
I giggle and shake my head in sarcastic disbelief.
