39 - Eventually

39

Eventually

I saiah is seated in his armchair, typing away on his laptop with Raven curled under his arm.

Even though I'm doing what I should be—my stretches and exercises—I pout. I want to be curled up under his arm. He pushes the glasses up the bridge of his nose, and his foot taps to the rhythm of the song spinning on the record player. Sometimes, I like when he doesn't notice me staring. This way, I get to stare as long as I want without any questions.

I smile to myself like a love drunk fool and turn away, continuing my stretches on the floor. The amount of time I spend daydreaming about him, about the love of my life, could be pathetic. But I'm too in love to care. The moment he brought me back here after surgery almost a month ago, I gave up my apartment. I'm here all the time like he said, and I don't want to miss anything. Not the big stuff and not the small stuff. And this way, I get to kiss him anytime I want.

Soft hands land on my shoulders. "Isaiah!" I squeal, my heart jumping out of my chest. "I hate when you do that."

He chuckles, his lips pressing to my neck. "I couldn't help it. You were so focused. What were you thinking about?"

"Nothing." I try to keep my cool, not looking at him, but he presses his fingers into my sides, tickling me until I laugh. "Okay, okay. Stop!" Isaiah kisses and bites his way up my neck until he's kissing my lips. "I was thinking about you."

"I figured when I saw you pout."

"Well, I was pouting because I was jealous. Of the cat."

Isaiah laughs, hands pulling my curls away from my face so he can see me. "You never need to be jealous."

I roll my eyes, even as my skin warms. "I know that, logically." Isaiah taps my nose before taking a seat on the floor beside me, stretching out.

I sigh, content. This is…enough. If this was the rest of my life, sitting here with him, on the floor, I'd be happy with that. There are still things I want to do—play on the National Team, play in a World Cup and the Olympics, but this…this is good. And pure. And happy.

A buzzing phone breaks my happy, dopey daydreams. Isaiah picks up my phone, and I watch his eyes widen. "Who is it?" I ask, and he turns the screen, only for me to see a photo of me and my dad taking up the screen. "Oh."

"Do you want to answer?" He sits up, handing me the phone. My eyes flash between the two, and without responding, I slide the answer button.

There's a beat of silence.

"Aurora?"

"Yeah, hi, Dad." I lean against the couch beside me. Isaiah joins me, his hand landing on my bad knee, and he begins massaging it with his fingers. My heart races. This is the first time he's called me since the fight when Isaiah first arrived. The first time since surgery.

"I, uh, wanted to check in. See how you were coming along. With recovery and all."

The phone's on speaker, and Isaiah gives me an encouraging look. "Yeah, I'm—I'm alright. Pain is mostly gone, just discomfort now. PT throughout the week, still using the crutches."

"Good, good," he says, and I can practically see his awkwardness. I can envision his nervous ticks. "Doing your massages, too? And calf stretches? Make sure not to forget about your ankle and your hip."

I almost laugh. It's so like him to focus on the things he can fix. "Yeah, I know. Thanks. You been alright?"

"Yeah, yeah. Start with my new team in two weeks." The tension is still palpable. I mean, how could it not be? But it's something. It's a call. That he made. "Well, I don't want to keep you. I just wanted to check in and make sure you were doing okay. I'm sure Isaiah is taking good care of you."

I look up from the phone at him. And he's already looking at me. His brown eyes are light and warm. He taps my knee twice. "He is. Thanks for calling."

"‘Course. I'll let you go now. We can talk again soon. Love you, kid."

I swallow, and a beat passes. Another. "Love you, too."

When the call ends, I exhale. I feel a bit crazy, an array of emotions flying around, trying to find a place to land inside my head. Isaiah scoots forward, one hand cupping my cheek and the other on the back of my neck. His thumb brushes back and forth against my skin. It brings me back to Earth, back to my happy, very real, very dopey life.

"He called," I say, trying to fight a smile. It's so small, it's fucking minute, but he called. And he called first. It's one large step for Dad. Isaiah grins, and so do I, but it turns wobbly. No rhyme or reason for it; assume it's just an overload, contrasting feelings trying to find their place.

"What's wrong, sweetie?"

I shake my head. "Nothing." I exhale and try to smile again. "Can you just give me a hug?"

"Always, Aurora. Always." Isaiah does as he says, pulling me tight into his arms.

I close my eyes and lean into him. My very real, very safe, very constant person. My person . Through it all. Always.

Sophia and I watch our two favorite boys from our spot near the fire pit. The blanket draped over her shoulders brushes my skin as she sits behind me, tugging on my curls one by one. Joey and Zaza are running around the backyard, playing tag with them. And I can't look away.

"You are so painfully in love," Sophia says with a laugh. "It's pathetic."

I scoff. "You fell in love with him, that man, at what? Fifteen?"

"Touché." My sister inhales, and I know she's watching her husband make scary, googly eyes at her youngest with a stupid grin. "He's so…"

"Dumb?"

She laughs. "Yes. But also perfect."

"Who's pathetic now?"

"Both of us."

I turn, not shocked to see a dopey smile on her face at all, and climb up into the oversized lawn chair next to her, pulling the blanket over my shoulders, too. We sit there, stupidly in love together. The air is cool around us as December approaches quickly, and the fire flickers in the late afternoon sun.

"I want another."

My heart swells. Of course, she does. Of course, they do. They're great parents. "Works for me. Another one for me to corrupt."

Sophia laughs, resting her head on my shoulder. Even in the winter air, she smells like spring time. "Enough about me—"

"No, Soph, really." My cheeks heat, which is so fucking annoying.

My sister waves me off. "Shut up, Aurora." I do because she uses her mom voice. "You're so…happy. And that doesn't mean you weren't before. I know you were. But I was there a few months ago when you were worried you'd never stop missing him. Seeing you in pain wasn't easy for me. Especially over something I couldn't help you through."

"Soph," I start when her voice starts to tremble.

"Shut up, and let me finish. I'm emotional, and I have baby fever," she scolds, exhaling. "You light up around him. You always have; it's nothing new, but even after all these years, you two are brightest when you're together. I remember watching you guys as kids, teenagers. I remember when it changed into something more, and I was sure you were both too young to feel that much. Not that I had any room to talk given my dumbass husband, but I was scared that it was too much and too strong."

She looks at me, and to no surprise, she has tears in her eyes. "He used to look at you like you put the sun and moon in the sky. Like you placed the stars individually. And you looked at him the same. Like he was your own personal sun. One that only shone on you. And I was scared when he came back that those things wouldn't. That the friendship wouldn't be there as it once had. That it was going to be different, tainted by the distance. And that the loss of those things would've hurt more than never being with him again."

Sophia's grip on my hand tightens. I guess I never thought what it was like for her, raising kids and watching me deal with a pitiful, broken heart. She's my sister. We hurt when the other does.

Sophia continues, "I was scared that I was going to watch you get hurt again, and there would've been nothing I could do."

And now, I'm going to fucking cry all because she had to be sappy and emotional.

"But," she says, snorting out a laugh with wet eyes, "you're so stupid happy. And it makes me so happy, Aurora. To know that it's all still there."

"Shut up, or I'm going to snot all over your shirt."

She laughs, and so do I. We were always told our laughs were similar, and when both the boys look over here, I believe it. Isaiah gives me a slightly concerned look, but I give him a half-ass thumbs up. The boys bend down, whispering something in the girls' ears, and shortly after, they're sprinting full force toward us with Kian and Isaiah trailing after them.

Joey approaches me. "Auntie Ro, can you play tag with us?"

"Of course—"

"She cannot." Isaiah glares at me. I pout.

"Why not?"

He approaches me, attacking Joey with kisses until she squeals and makes a beeline for her dad. Isaiah's hands land on the arm of the chair closest to me. "Because I said so. And because you know you can't yet."

I meet his eyes, my heart fluttering away in my chest. "Yes, Professor Bryant."

Sophia makes a faux vomiting sound and unravels herself from me to stand. "Enough." Isaiah snorts and traps her in a headlock. "Isaiah, get off of me."

I watch with amusement. "How the tables have turned. How's it feel?"

Sophia flips me off but stops fighting the hold. "You're lucky I like you, Isaiah."

Isaiah grins, his dimple poking out, and places a kiss on her cheek before letting her go. Azalea watches the whole thing.

"Auntie Ro?"

"Yes, baby?"

"Are you going to marry Uncle Ziah?"

I choke. On what, I'm not sure. The air? My spit?

Behind their daughter, Kian and Sophia try not to laugh. Kian especially looks like a puckered fish. Idiot. My skin turns hot, and I know my cheeks are red as hot flames. Zaza just blinks at me expectantly. Isaiah is crouched behind her with a glimmer in his eyes—amusement and love.

Finding my words, I clear my throat. "Eventually, yeah. If he wants that."

Kian rolls his eyes. And all Azalea does is shrug. "Cool." I'm left in some strange stupor as she strides towards the house. "Mom, can I have a snack?"

Sophia rolls her lips, trying not to laugh as well. "Dinner's almost ready, sweetie. Come help me finish up." She starts walking with Joey in her arms, and her husband just stands there. "Kian, let's go."

He looks between us and his wife, understanding coming over his face. Kian taps his head twice. "Got it."

Behind us, the fire crackles. Isaiah's hands land on my knees—one in a brace, one without. He taps his fingers over my leggings, crawling up my legs. The clouds are darkening above us, the sky as well as the sun dips lowers. There are streaks of orange and red appearing like a haphazard paint brush.

"She's just like you."

I roll my eyes. "Come here," I say, patting the spot next to me. He obliges, pulling my legs over his lap. Adjusting so I can see him better, I lean my head back. Unable to help myself, I trace my finger over his face, his nose, over his cheek bones, his jawline. His lips. He gives my calf a squeeze from where he rests his hand.

"Eventually, huh?" Isaiah grins smugly, lovingly. "I do want that."

Nerves I didn't even know were on edge settle down. "Me, too."

"Obviously."

"Hey." I pout, and he chuckles, grabbing my hand with his. He kisses each of my fingertips, little sparks sent down each one.

"She asked me first," he says, lips brushing my palm before pressing a kiss there.

A smile starts to grow. "She did?" Isaiah nods.

"Glad you were put on the spot first."

"You're such an idiot," he says, pulling me closer—as close as I can get in this chair. My fingers find the thin chain around his neck, running it through my fingers before tugging him to me with it.

"As Maazina says, I'm your idiot."

Our noses brush, and it feels like a bubble comes down around us. With a hand on my cheek, he pulls me in for a kiss. Our lips touch, and the whole world falls away. Isaiah's my anchor when I'm lost in clouds. His teeth nip the gentle skin, and his tongue teases my lips, and I sigh, turning into putty like always. It happens every time we kiss, and I'm not sure it will ever stop. I hope it doesn't.

Isaiah smiles against my lips, and my heart soars. His touch, his kiss—they sink past my heated skin and into my bones. Where they belong.

Whatever else the future holds, it doesn't matter because it'll be me and Isaiah against the world.