Chapter 23

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"Miss... Miss!"

The cashier is frantically waving her arm at me and I have no idea why.

"Your card?!"

Oops.

That's like the third stupid thing I've done since Harry and I have been home from the beach house.  And it's only been one day.

Nearly leaving my credit card at the bakery, missing my exit off the freeway and trying to use my house key to unlock my classroom door. Every neuron in my brain is filled with a different scene from the weekend and every sparking synapse fires out our declarations of love for each other. There is no room for anything else.

I trace my middle finger around the smooth, gold heart that hangs around my neck. I don't know how he can stay so focused.

Must be all his media training. Like when he's here at school, you'd never know he is Harry Styles, with a number one hit on the radio and weeks away from launching a world-wide concert tour. He gracefully balances all the demands of his celebrity and holds what he loves a priority. My favorite thing is that his team no longer argues with keeping his schedule clear between 4:00 and 6:00 on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays.

He is a soft heart. A gifted songwriter. A sexy rock star. A sharp businessman. A generous soul. A wicked lover. My love for him pumps through my heart and surges through my veins and brings sparkling energy to every part of my body.

A few tables away he's deeply engrossed in guitar lessons, his favorite activity here. His smooth, broad back is to me and his shoulder blades flex under his t-shirt when he reaches around the kids to adjust the guitars in their laps. His tattooed left arm, tight in its sleeve and bronzed from the beach, makes my stomach flip and those long, ringed fingers that leave marks on my skin and tangle in my hair are gentle now, modeling proper form for Sofia and her friends.

My eyes glaze over hearing his voice, and the snippets of his conversation become the soundtrack to my daydream that plays in my mind like a movie. My mental camera pans from the sweet nursery to our cozy kitchen to the family room, the floor strewn with plush animals and books and paints. Harry navigates it all, stretching his long legs around the toys like a room-sized game of Twister, holding his hands out to steady our giggling toddler who happily wobbles around the joyous mess.

He must feel my stare because he lifts his head and turns his gaze over his shoulder. His eyes land on mine and I feel my insides glow in response to his heart melting smile.

I know he shares this dream because we have written several different versions of its script late at night in bed, driving in the car and over dinner at the dining table.

His eyes sparkle, mirroring mine, and he mouths, "Wha?" with that sideways grin that I love so much. I just smile back and slowly shake my head. With a pat to their shoulders, he finishes with the kids makes his way over to me. He wraps his arms tightly around my middle and squeezes, then gives me a gentle kiss on my forehead. "What's goin' on in there?" he asks, leaning back to look into my eyes.

I peck his pink lips. "Just thinking about how much I love you."

"Your love is what keeps me going, Lynn."

Groups of kids around the cafeteria are contentedly working and playing together. He straddles the bench and I sit too, leaning back against him, breathing in the rare quiet moment.

"They're cute when they're calm, aren't they?" I ask wryly.

He chuckles. "I never knew I needed this in my life." He kisses the back of my head. "Thank you." My heart swells.

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