14. Lucas
Lucas
14
Every day is a dream, and today is no exception. I wake up to Ezrah curled up on my chest still sound asleep. I press a kiss to his head before carefully prying his limbs from my body. He grumbles in his sleep, trying to hold on tighter, but after a moment he relaxes into sleep again, and I’m able to slip free.
The first day I tried this, I was so worried about waking him, but Ezrah sleeps like the dead. After I pull on my clothes, I poke my head into Dil’s room. Despite Ezrah not being her biological father, they sure have a lot in common, including their sleeping habits. I assure myself she’s still asleep before slipping out for my morning run.
I pipe upbeat love songs through one earbud, humming along to myself as I go. I leave the other one out so I can be aware of my surroundings, even though there’s been no sign of danger the entire time we’ve been here. As of yesterday, Rio, who was watching Ezrah’s house, and Allen, reported he was still in LA. My run is a perfect time to reflect. I noticed as I got dressed this morning that my neck still shows signs of our time together last night. The longer we spend here, the more confident and demanding Ezrah gets in bed. I’m loving it. A small part of me wishes we were somewhere where I could show the marks off. Maybe go out for a date night in a low-cut shirt so they are all on display.
But if we were somewhere else, he might not have agreed to try a relationship in the first place, a small part of me nagged. I shake the thought from my head.
Things are going great. He’d tell me if they weren’t. They were going so great, in fact, that I was hoping that if I asked Ezrah if he wanted to keep seeing each other when we got back to real life that he would say yes.
I’m not sure when I should talk to him about it, but I know I want to. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. I can’t even imagine moving on with my life without him. I’ll probably wait until the drive back. I don’t want to overload him before he’s ready. There are already times I worry I’m moving too fast. That’s why, even though I’m sure, I haven’t told him I love him yet. I feel like we need some time in our normal lives to make it really real.
I round the corner and the little cabin I’ve started thinking of as home comes into view. The peak of the roof is back-lit by the rising sun and the large front windows gleam. I jog inside, check to be sure that Dil is still sleeping soundly, grab a quick shower, and then slip back into bed beside Ezrah, pulling him into my arms.
It’s both adorable and concerning how he doesn’t so much as twitch.
I ghost a kiss to the top of his head and smile. I’m so lucky to get to see him like this. Relaxed, open, vulnerable.
When he starts to stir, I quickly look away so he doesn’t realize I’ve been staring. “Morning, sleepy head.”
He grunts, rolling out of my arms and the blankets. He’s much less flustered than he was the first time we woke up like this. Every day it seems to get a little easier for him to accept what I’m so willingly offering.
“I’ll go start coffee,” I smile at him, leaving him to get dressed.
On my way out to the kitchen, I hear Dil babbling her good morning call. I make a detour to change and dress her, then bring her to the kitchen with me. One happy baby with a bottle later, I start the coffee and get to work on biscuits and gravy.
I’m just finishing up when Ezrah wanders out. I have to suppress a grin when I see he’s wearing another one of my flannels. I’m incredibly glad I decided to pack so many because as his collection grows, I notice I’m getting very few of them back. Not that I mind. There’s something about the sight of them on him that makes me happy, and maybe just a tad possessive.
“How’s your writing going?” I ask as we enjoy our daily lake trail walk, Dil cooing happily in her stroller.
“Honestly,” he sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I haven’t written shit since I got here. I just can’t focus.”
“So what’ve you been doing on your laptop?” I ask, surprised.
“Mostly just staring at the screen.”
“That sounds discouraging, but it’s not surprising you can’t focus. You’ve got a lot going on. Why don’t you give yourself a day off?”
He shakes his head. “Can’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t want to get out of the habit?”
I chuckle. “Sounds to me like you don’t want to admit you have writer’s block.”
“I don’t have writer’s block.”
“I rest my case.”
He rolls his eyes toward me and smiles, just a little. “I’ll stick to my methods, thank you.”
I hold up my hands in mock surrender. “OK, fine. If you change your mind or whatever, you know where to find me.”
“I won’t.”
I let it drop. His work is his business, after all. When we get back, he races off to his room as always, but he seems more frantic. I scoop up Dil, bouncing her in my arms as we walk around the living room.
“Are we feeling dinosaurs or farm animals today?” I ask, sitting her in front of the brightly colored toys.
She picks up a large yellow blob meant to be a baby chicken, shoving it into her mouth.
I chuckle. “I guess that answers that.”
This is the only part of my day that can get a little dull. Not that Dil isn’t fun, but she is a baby and therefore, not the best for conversation. Mostly, I end up watching TV, playing with her, feeding her, or changing her. Sometimes we go wild and clean something.
After a couple hours, Ezrah comes out, looking both restless and drained. “How’re things going out here?”
“Fine as usual. Dil’s probably going to be ready for lunch and a nap soon if you want to play farm for a bit.”
The pair plays on the floor while I make some mac and cheese for lunch.
When I’m done, Dil dives into the pasta with relish. Once she starts playing with it instead of eating, and her blinks get long, Ezrah cleans her up and lays her down to sleep. Then we sit down to eat our lunch without flying orange projectiles. Dil is currently loving throwing things.
“So, what are some of your favorite projects you’ve worked on?” I ask.
Ezrah lights up. I like asking him about his work. It’s the one area where he’s confident and mostly unguarded.
“I got to do some line edits for an indie horror film once.”
“What was it?”
“Under Farm. It was the first thing I was involved in that won an award.”
“Shit!” I grin. “That’s cool!”
He flushes, looking away. “It's not that big of a deal. I didn’t win anything. The director and head writer did.”
“Because they had you to help them.”
“All I did was some line edits.”
I lean forward to grab his hand. “It’s impressive. You should be proud.” Then, feeling bold, I bring his knuckles to my lips.
He sputters but doesn’t pull away. I reluctantly let go to resume eating. “I should… Ah… Get back to work.” He shoots to his feet.
“You know where to find me if you need anything.”
Then he’s gone and I have the place to myself.
Unfortunately, there’s no gym here, but there is still a lot I can do without any kind of equipment. Mostly, I do floor work. Pushups, situps, squats, planks, a little bit of yoga, that kind of thing.
Another quick shower and it’s time to start dinner. The smell usually brings out Ezrah. He’ll play with Dil while I finish cooking, then feed her, bathe her, and put her down for bed while I get ready for my favorite part of the day.
When we first started this, I told Ezrah he could pick a movie, and I did mean it, but not today. Today we’re going to watch Love Literally Love and he can just deal with it.
He sees the screen and groans from the doorway. “Stop picking ones I worked on!” he complains.
“You worked on it?” I pretend to be surprised.
“I’m beginning to think you’re doing this on purpose.”
“I would never!” I would. I looked up his credits after the first night and have been systematically working my way through it. Of course, I throw in an unrelated rom-com now and then to cover my tracks. Guess I need to pick one of those again soon.
He glares.
“Just come sit down and watch the movie.”
He rolls his eyes but sits down in “his” corner.
The second his ass hits the cushion, I’m on him. I stretch out across the sofa so most of my torso is cradled in his lap, feet dangling off the opposite edge. I wrap my arms around his middle, burying my face in his stomach.
“You aren’t going to be able to see the movie like that.” He says. It sounds snarky, but there’s a warm affectionate tone in his voice.
“Then you’ll just have to tell me what’s happening.”
“If you don’t want to watch this, I’m picking something else.”
I pretend to whine, but I roll so I can see the screen. “Happy?”
He pauses, blinking, looking almost stunned then says, “Yes,” making a face like the word tastes strange on his tongue.
I smile and lean up to catch him in a quick kiss. It’s hard to believe after everything, he still blushes when I kiss him. “Me too.”
He still looks flustered when I turn my attention back to the movie.
As the movie plays, I feel him begin to relax. A few minutes later, a hesitant hand makes its way to my hair.
I hold my breath, waiting for him to pull away, but he doesn’t. Instead, he continues his light, barely there touches along my hair, like he’s petting a particularly skittish cat. I smile to myself, closing my eyes and savoring the sensation. Beatrice watches from the windowsill, and I think she’s glad I’m the one being petted rather than her.
I wake sometime later to Ezrah gently nudging me. “Told you it’s a bad movie,” he grumbles. “You fell asleep.”
“Sorry,” I sit up with a yawn.
“Whatever. It's fine. I take it you're ready for bed?”
“Bed sounds amazing.”
I take his hand and follow him back to our- his room. I open the drawer I’d commandeered to change for bed. By the time I’m done, Ezrah is already lying down, flat on his back.
I climb in next to him, resting my head on his chest. Our legs tangle together. I can hear his heart racing beneath me.
“Is this alright?” I whisper.
He nods. “Just go to sleep.”
I press a kiss over his heart. “See you in the morning, Ezrah.”