We took a cab home instead of having my father pick us up at the airport. While Harry paid the driver, I raced inside the house to see my girls.

"Mommy!" They screamed and came running. They all but tackled me and I fell backward onto the couch, holding all three of them against me at the same time. Rachael held onto me for dear life, while Aurora and Grace sat on either side of me, both of them talking at once.

Harry came in a few moments later and greeted my parents, who once again offered their condolences along with generous hugs. Then he came over to the girls and kissed their foreheads, realizing they wouldn't let go of their death grips on me just yet.

However, only a few moments later, Rachael looked up at Harry with delight in her eyes and she practically jumped from my lap to his. She snuggled into his neck and he held her tight. I could see a little moisture forming in his eyes. Their relationship never ceased to amaze me – Rachael and Harry had a bond that I couldn't comprehend.

My parents sat down in the living room with us, happy to tell us of their adventures in grand-parenting. I couldn't say thank you enough, although I know they were happy to do it.

Finally, I said, "Well, we just wanted you both to know that we're together now," I said, grabbing Harry's hand. I knew that my mother was already aware, but I wanted it to be completely clear for both of them. "And just so you know, we're quite serious." I was trying to choose my words so that I could talk above the girls' understanding, but Aurora didn't miss a beat.

"Serious about what, Mommy?" She asked.

"Serious about being good friends," I said, biting my lip. "Harry is my best friend. Did you know that?" I asked.

"Does that mean he's going to be our Daddy?" She asked.

Oh, my heavens. She really didn't miss anything, did she? I looked to Harry for help in answering. And then I stole a glance at my parents, who seemed a little stunned.

Harry finally managed an uncomfortable reply. "Not just yet Princess." And I hoped that would appease her insatiable curiosity. She seemed happy with that and went on to tell us – again – about the snow day and about her friends at school and about Grandpa taking them out for ice cream, even though it was freezing outside.

My parents left shortly after we arrived home. They loved my children dearly, but I could tell they were weary after a week of full-time parenting. Harry and I both thanked them profusely.

Then Harry turned to me and asked, "Now what?"

"I don't know," I responded. "We shouldn't make it too obvious. And as much as I want to, we shouldn't sleep in the same bed. We've already had to answer too many questions."

"Well, we've had our first date, so is it too soon for me to propose to you?" He asked.

I just laughed, thinking he wasn't serious. But his face told a different story. 

"Harry, you need some time to grieve your father's death. And being a Daddy is a huge responsibility. You've got to think about all of that before you decide you want to be with me for the rest of your life. It's a package deal."

"All right, then," he said. "We'll give it a little time. I think I'll go home and get cleaned up and maybe catch up on some sleep. I've got to make up all the work I missed." He seemed a little disappointed, angry even. We were both emotionally spent after the trip, so I just let it go.

I gathered my girls for some more snuggle time and then we all went to bed.

Harry was quickly plunged back into the craziness of school and performing, especially since he was trying to make up for lost time. The university said they would give him a grace period for mourning, and that he could make up some of his work during the summer semester, but it sure didn't seem like his work load had lightened up very much.

A few days after we came home from England, I figured it was time to tell my brother about Harry. I opened my Skype window and initiated a call. To my surprise, Jessica answered.

"Hi sis," I smiled at my brother's fiancee. "Are you doing some wedding planning?"

"Yep," she grinned. "I was just about to check a few things online, but I'll go get my computer. Here's your brother."

"Hey, Ry."

"Hi, Lissy. How was England?"

Oh, yeah. I never really told Ryan about Harry's father, but obviously he found out from our parents. "Somber. Harold's death was so tragic. I never could have imagined going to England for such an unfortunate occasion."

"Well, I'm sure Harry was glad you were there," he said.

I guess that was a good lead-in to the reason I called him. "So, you've gotten to know Harry pretty well, right?"

"Yeah, he's awesome," Ryan said.

"Um, well...I have to tell you something," I mumbled.

His face become serious and I think he knew what was coming. I could see the anger starting to boil in his demeanor.

"Harry and I are...um, dating. And we're pretty serious, as in, we're probably going to get married," I blurted out and waited for Ryan's backlash.

Instead, he just started laughing like crazy. I felt a little annoyed at that point, assuming that he thought I was joking.

"Ryan! I'm serious!"

He stopped laughing and he said, "I know you are."

"And you're not mad?"

"Lissy, Harry is in love with you," he reasoned.

"You knew that?" I asked, sheepishly.

"Yeah. And you probably figured this out by now, but Eric never looked at you the way Harry does. Trust me - I can tell.  I was just wondering how long it would take for you to tell me that you were in love with him, too."

"So, it doesn't bother you that he's so much younger than me?"

"Not if he loves you. And I know he does," Ryan said sincerely.

I started laughing and said, "This was way easier than it was with Mom and Dad."

"I'll bet," he said.

We talked a bit more about his wedding plans and then we said good-bye. I was so relieved that Ryan approved, I was almost giddy.

Even though Harry and I were now "official" and we had crossed the hurdle of gaining our families' approval, my mood began changing a few weeks after Harold's funeral. I began having nightmares and not sleeping well at night. My dreams were mostly about something terrible happening to my children. I chalked it up to Harold's death and my continuing sadness over the fact that Harry and Charlie were now orphans, even though they were grown men. I felt like I was starting to go a little insane from the lack of sleep.

Harry came over during almost every free moment he had. He studied at my house and ate meals with us. To be honest, it wasn't much different than before, except that now we stole little kisses and talked about our future. I told him about the nightmares and he agreed that it was probably part of the grieving process, but he assured me that I didn't have to worry about him. He tried to help with the girls so I could get little naps, but he didn't have much free time to do so.

I gave him a key to my house so that he could come and go as he pleased. One night, after I had drifted off, I woke up, feeling the bed dip down and I assumed that one of the girls had a nightmare and was crawling in next to me for comfort. That was, until I felt Harry's strong arms around me.

"Hey," I whispered. "You're not supposed to be in my bed." But I was happy to feel him next to me.

"I just wanted to hold you for a while," he said. I couldn't argue with that. "I thought maybe it would help with the nightmares if I slept here and held you. I can set the alarm on my phone so that I can get up and leave early in the morning."

"What if the girls come in during the night?" I asked.

"We'll think of something," he answered. And that was good enough for me. At least for a few nights.

But having Harry come in late and leave early triggered more anxiety in me. I knew it wasn't the same as with Eric, but the only time he ever came home was when he came in to sleep. Or to have sex. Sometimes he held me, but not often. I knew it wasn't the same with Harry, but my emotions continued to play tricks on my mind.

Eventually, I told Harry it wsn't a good idea to have him spend the night. He agreed without question, but I could tell that he was hurt.

Harry gradually became so busy with school that he was completely overwhelmed. I could tell he was getting weary. I'm sure it didn't help that he was still grieving his father's death. Even though he was with us during almost all of his spare time, he became more withdrawn and emotionally distant.

I tried to give him his space while he was studying, but he became increasingly irritated with the noise and activity in my house. When he wasn't studying, he went home to sleep, and it felt like his naps were becoming more frequent.

It was when he started to snap at the girls and me that I started to fear the worst - that Harry didn't really want us after all.

I wanted to talk to him, but I didn't want to know if he was having second thoughts. I put off having a meaningful conversation for several weeks, but finally, I couldn't stand it anymore.

"Harry, can we talk?"

"About what?" He asked, sounding irritated.

"I'm worried about you," I began. "It seems like something is really bothering you."

"Yeah," he said sarcastically and a little too loudly. "I've got too much work to do and I don't have enough time!" He put his hands over his face and then ran them through his hair and then he threw them in the air with an exasperated sigh.

I flinched at his tone of voice.

He sighed again, but this time he was apologetic. "I'm sorry, babe," he said, pulling me into his arms. "I didn't mean to yell. I'm just so tired and I can't figure it out, you know? I feel like everything is a burden and no matter how hard I work, I can't keep up."

"I'm sorry. What can I do to help you?"

He kissed me and smiled a little. "That's a start," he said.

So I kissed him again, entwining my fingers into his hair and pressing hard against his lips so that he began to relax and kiss me deeply. Soon, we were entangled in each other and breathing heavily. He pulled away long enough to say, "I know what would help me to relieve some stress."

I smirked and said, "Not til we're married, remember?"

He groaned and said, "Well, let's just get married right now!" And he started nibbling on my neck, knowing that was my weakness.

I closed my eyes and enjoyed it for a bit and then said, "Harry, we should stop."

He sat back and sighed, but this time, he had a more relaxed expression on his face.

"So, you still think you can handle all of this? School, work, performing, and an instant family?" I tried to ask the question in a light-hearted way, but I wanted him to really think about it. And he did. It took him several minutes to formulate an answer.

Finally, he just said, "I don't know."

I gulped down the lump in my throat when he said that. I wished I hadn't asked him that question, but I needed to know.

And he needed to figure it out.