“Don’t be silly,” Anne laughs, interrupting our battle. She’s oblivious to our panic. “Not sharing a room would be weird, wouldn’t it? Besides, the guest rooms are going to be occupied this weekend.”

I gulp down the last remaining oxygen I can find, peering up at Henry and deferring our plan of action to him.

His deep inhale brushes his arm against mine, and I lean further into his embrace, hoping he can convey a sense of calm and rationality I’m unable of possess right now, attempting to quell the salacious scenes running through my head.

Henry, in only a pair of boxers, stretched out lazily on a mattress.

Henry, a sheet pooled around his chiseled waist, grinning at me as the sun rises.

Henry, staring at me as I wake up, studying me intimately while I figure out my surroundings.

Us together on a rumpled comforter as he holds my hands above my head, sweat sliding down his chest as he growls at me to “come, Sunflower.”

Our gazes collide, and he lifts an eyebrow. With a bob of my throat and dip of my chin, Henry nods, turning back to his mom wearing a megawatt smile, doing his best to look unbothered.

“Sharing my room it is.”

I sense the waver in his voice despite his emphatic declaration. The way his tapping resumes. How he holds me closer, still, our bodies fusing together not close enough.

“Perfect!” Anne says, clapping her hands. “We’ll meet down here in a bit to head out. I’ll be in the kitchen with the party planner if you need me. I can’t wait to learn more about you, Emma.”

“Come on,” Henry says, taking my hand and guiding us out of the entryway. “I’ll show you where we’re staying.”

“Your house is gorgeous,” I observe, noting the twenty-foot ceilings and crystal chandeliers greeting us along our journey.

“People always say that, but I just see the four walls where I grew up. Lots of memories here. Lots of happy days. Some sad ones, too. The corner where I tripped and hit my head on the hardwood floor. The stairs Lizzie, Drew, and I would run down on Christmas morning. The hallway I would sneak down when I got back a little too late past curfew. First impressions always imply this place of wealth and prestige. Which, yeah, it is. But to me, it’s just home. No different from anyone else’s.”

I smile as we ascend a large staircase in the center of the home that leads to a long hallway. “Please tell me you slide down the banisters.”

“Every morning,” he chuckles.

“You have your own wing?” I ask as he opens one of the many closed doors.

Henry hums. “Wing is a bit pretentious, don’t you think? This isn’t the White House.”

“It could certainly rival it. Looks like a wing to me.”