The parent project - Chenry

Chapter thirteen: If I wasn't in love with her

Charlotte's POV -

I'm awoken by light, warm, feathery breathing on the base of my neck. I open my eyes slowly, adjusting them to the sunlight piecing through the curtains at the window. Henry's arms are tucked around my waist in a protective grip, when I try to move from underneath him his grip tightens instantly and I'm left to lay there, analyzing everything that I let happen between us.  I have no clue what time it is, the baby monitor was unusually silent. Then again, the twins did fall sleep later than they normally did the previous night. I want to get up, but Henry is making the task harder than it had to be. 

The sheets are beginning to feel hot and sticky against my bare skin. Heat radiating off of Henry's body is overwhelming and I have to get away. Moving his arms from under me, I'm able to sit up halfway. I grab the shirt Henry was wearing last night and slip it over my head, getting up from underneath the sweltering comforter. 

"Shit,"

I muttered sharply as my legs buckled underneath me and I stumbled to the floor. I didn't expect that, pushing my messy curls out of my face I took a deep breath and grabbed the side of the nightstand by the bed to steady myself as I stood up again.

"Char?"

I hear Henry's raspy morning voice behind me and close my eyes briefly in defeat before turning around to face him.

"Hm?"

"Where are you going?"

"Bathroom, why?"

Henry sits up just enough to rub the side of his face and study the time on his phone through sleepy, squinted brown eyes. 

"Are you okay?"

I crossed one ankle over the other to remain upright as I nodded.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"Okay..."

Henry laid back, resting his head on his folded arms. He stared at me, a slight smirk hidden on his lips and his wild bed hair, getting in his eyes. I gazed at him, admiring the work of art that was the muscles flexing on his back every time he moved. He reached out his hand to me.

"Come here."

I was hesitant, glancing around the room before letting my eyes rest on his again.

"Henry-"

"Please?"

He poked his bottom lip out slightly and didn't stop pouting until I had brushed my fingertips across his hand, allowing his palm to enclose mine. I perched myself on the edge of the bed. Henry laid his head in my lap and kissed the side of my thigh. I smoothed my fingers through his hair, staring at the windows.

"I feel terrible."

I admitted, shaking my head slowly. There was this impenetrable guilt building in my stomach and I knew it was because of Bianca. It was because of everything I said I wouldn't do. 

"About what?"

Henry mumbled, tracing his thumb over my legs and up the hem of his t-shirt.

 "About last night."

He looked up at me, and his expression was kind of surprised. His eyebrows were slightly lifted and his tongue flicked once at the corner of his mouth. 

"You regret it?"

I paused.

"No- No, I don't... I don't regret it. It's just I wish it would have happened after you broke up with Bianca, that's all."