Chapter 15 Dreaming About Tomorrow
Someday
Life settled into something beautifully ordinary.
Weeks passed, bringing little changes that somehow meant everything.
Alex no longer left for work without kissing Jamie goodbye.
Jamie no longer apologized for fussing over Alex whenever he worked too late.
Their apartment slowly became a place filled with quiet certainty instead of unanswered questions.
One Saturday morning, sunlight streamed through the balcony doors while Jamie hummed softly in the kitchen.
The smell of cinnamon and fresh bread drifted through the apartment.
Alex wandered into the room wearing comfortable clothes and immediately smiled.
"I woke up five minutes ago."
Jamie looked over his shoulder.
"I know."
"And you've already baked bread."
"I couldn't sleep."
Alex wrapped his arms loosely around Jamie's waist from behind.
"You know this is becoming my favorite way to wake up."
Jamie laughed.
"You've become very affectionate."
"I've become honest."
Jamie leaned back against him.
"I like honest."
"So do I."
For a quiet moment they simply stood together while the bread cooled on the counter.
Nothing extraordinary happened.
No dramatic declarations.
No grand gestures.
Just two men enjoying the simple comfort of sharing the same morning.
Jamie finally turned around.
"I have something to show you."
Alex raised an eyebrow.
"Is it edible?"
Jamie laughed.
"Eventually."
He disappeared into the bedroom before returning with his grandmother's recipe notebook.
The worn leather cover showed its age, but every page inside remained carefully preserved.
Jamie carried it to the dining table and opened it gently.
Alex sat beside him.
"I've seen parts of it before."
"Not all of it."
Jamie carefully turned several pages.
Handwritten recipes filled nearly every sheet.
Tiny notes filled the margins.
Cooking tips.
Little reminders.
Small memories attached to certain dishes.
Alex smiled.
"She wrote everything down."
Jamie nodded.
"She believed recipes were stories."
He traced one page gently with his fingertips.
"She always said food keeps people together."
Alex looked at the elegant handwriting.
"She was right."
Jamie smiled.
"I think so too."
He turned another page.
"This was the first bread she taught me."
"And this..."
He pointed toward another recipe.
"...was the soup she made whenever someone was sick."
Alex smiled warmly.
"I know that one very well."
Jamie laughed.
"You certainly do."
Silence settled comfortably between them.
Jamie looked thoughtfully at the notebook before speaking again.
"When I was little..."
He smiled at the memory.
"...I used to imagine having my own family someday."
Alex looked at him with quiet curiosity.
"What kind of family?"
Jamie shrugged shyly.
"The ordinary kind."
He laughed softly.
"I know that probably sounds boring."
"It doesn't."
"I imagined a noisy kitchen."
"Fresh bread every weekend."
"A dining table that was always full."
He smiled to himself.
"I wanted children running through the house while I pretended to complain about muddy shoes."
Alex listened carefully.
"I wanted someone to steal cookie dough before dinner."
Jamie laughed.
"I wanted to teach them how to make pancakes."
He rested his hand gently on the notebook.
"And someday..."
His voice softened.
"...I wanted to give this to them."
Alex looked down at the old notebook.
"So they'd know your grandmother too."
Jamie nodded.
"Exactly."
"I never met her."
He smiled sadly.
"But through these recipes..."
"...she'd still be part of our family."
Alex felt something tighten gently inside his chest.
Jamie rarely spoke about his dreams.
He usually focused on making everyone else's dreams possible.
Hearing him talk so openly felt like receiving a precious gift.
Jamie looked away with an embarrassed smile.
"I guess it sounds a little silly."
Alex immediately shook his head.
"No."
"It sounds beautiful."
Jamie searched his face.
"You really think so?"
"I do."
Alex reached across the table and took Jamie's hand.
"When I was younger..."
He smiled quietly.
"...I thought success meant building bigger buildings."
Jamie listened.
"I wanted promotions."
"Recognition."
"Financial security."
He laughed softly.
"I measured my life by projects and contracts."
Jamie squeezed his hand.
"And now?"
Alex looked around the apartment.
His eyes lingered on the cookbook.
The fresh bread.
The herbs growing near the window.
Finally, they returned to Jamie.
"Now I think success looks different."
Jamie tilted his head.
"How?"
Alex smiled.
"It looks like coming home and finding you dancing while dinner cooks."
Jamie laughed.
"I don't dance."
"You absolutely dance."
"I move."
"You spin."
Jamie covered his face.
"I do not spin."
Alex grinned.
"I've seen it."
Jamie couldn't stop smiling.
"Fine."
"I spin."
Alex continued more seriously.
"It looks like quiet mornings."
"Weekend markets."
"Listening to you explain why fresh herbs are worth the extra effort."
Jamie smiled.
"You've finally admitted I'm right."
"I've accepted defeat."
They both laughed.
The laughter slowly faded into another comfortable silence.
Alex looked at Jamie with an expression that made Jamie's heart beat a little faster.
"You asked me once what I wanted for the future."
Jamie nodded.
"I remember."
"I didn't really know the answer then."
"And now?"
Alex looked down at their joined hands.
"Now I do."
His voice became calm and certain.
"I want to see your cookbook sitting on bookstore shelves."
Jamie's eyes widened slightly.
"I want to watch you sign copies for people who fall in love with your recipes."
"I want to complain because our kitchen is always covered in flour."
Jamie laughed softly.
"I make no promises."
"I know."
Alex smiled.
"I want to spend holidays surrounded by people we love."
"I want to argue over paint colors if we ever buy a house."
"I want to grow old enough that Emma starts teasing us about becoming exactly like our grandparents."
Jamie's eyes slowly filled with emotion.
Alex gently lifted the recipe notebook.
"I want this notebook to become part of our family's history."
The words settled quietly between them.
Our family.
Jamie swallowed carefully.
"You mean that?"
Alex nodded without hesitation.
"I do."
He reached across the table, brushing away a tear that had escaped onto Jamie's cheek.
"You told me your dream."
He smiled gently.
"So let me tell you mine."
Jamie waited.
"My dream isn't a particular house."
"It isn't a certain number in my bank account."
"It isn't another promotion."
He held Jamie's hand a little tighter.
"My dream is waking up beside you twenty years from now."
"Listening to you complain because someone secretly tasted dinner before it was finished."
Jamie laughed through his tears.
"You'd probably be the guilty one."
"I probably would."
Alex smiled.
"And if we're lucky enough to have children someday..."
His voice softened.
"...I want them to know exactly how extraordinary you are."
Jamie couldn't speak.
Alex leaned forward, resting his forehead gently against Jamie's.
"I want every one of those dreams to come true."
His next words were barely above a whisper.
"With you beside me."
Jamie's tears finally spilled freely.
Not because he was sad.
But because somewhere deep inside, a dream he had quietly carried for years no longer belonged only to him.
For the first time, it belonged to both of them.
And somehow, that made tomorrow feel closer than it ever had before.
My Wife
Saturday afternoons slowly became their favorite tradition.
No alarms.
No rushed breakfasts.
No construction meetings waiting for Alex or photography deadlines chasing Jamie across the city.
Instead, they wandered through the neighborhood farmers' market, argued playfully over vegetables, sampled homemade cheese they never intended to buy, and always returned home carrying far more than either of them had planned.
Alex insisted it was Jamie's fault.
Jamie insisted Alex had no self-control whenever someone offered free samples.
Neither of them minded.
The market had become one of those ordinary rituals that quietly stitched their lives together.
That afternoon, Jamie stopped beside a flower stall filled with fresh lavender, white daisies, and pale yellow roses.
He leaned down to breathe in the scent before smiling.
"They're beautiful."
Alex watched him instead of the flowers.
"They are."
Jamie looked over.
"You haven't even looked."
"I don't need to."
Jamie laughed softly.
"You've become impossible."
"So I've been told."
Jamie picked up a small pot of fresh basil.
"We need another one."
"We already have three."
"We have two."
Alex raised an eyebrow.
"The third one died because somebody forgot to water it."
Jamie looked offended.
"That somebody was you."
Alex smiled without denying it.
"Fair."
They bought the basil anyway.
By the time they returned to the apartment building, both of them carried reusable shopping bags filled with vegetables, bread, herbs, and far too many pastries.
Mrs. Harper was sitting on the front porch, knitting a pale blue baby blanket for her newest great-grandchild.
She smiled the moment she saw them.
"Well, there they are."
Jamie greeted her first.
"Good afternoon, Mrs. Harper."
"My favorite boys."
She looked at their overflowing shopping bags before shaking her head.
"You two bought the whole market again."
Jamie laughed.
"We were very responsible."
Mrs. Harper looked at Alex.
"Do you believe that?"
"Not even a little."
Jamie nudged Alex lightly with his shoulder.
"Traitor."
Mrs. Harper chuckled.
"I've been watching the two of you for almost a year now."
She pointed her knitting needle toward Alex.
"You know, young man..."
"...your wife is the only reason you remember to eat properly."
Jamie's face immediately warmed.
Even after everything that had happened, hearing the word still made him shy.
He opened his mouth to gently correct her.
Before he could say anything, another familiar voice joined the conversation.
"There you are!"
Emma climbed out of her car carrying two paper bags.
"I brought dessert."
Mrs. Harper smiled knowingly.
"Perfect timing."