Page 57 of Make Room for Love

Mine.The thought was loud, clear, and dangerous. Mira belonged to no one but herself.Mine, mine, mine.“I’m still a little sore,” Mira said, panting. “Go easy on me. Not too easy.”

Isabel tried to not get too carried away, but the French toast still ended up with plenty of crispy bits. “You can give them all to me,” Mira said, her face still prettily flushed as Isabel put their food on plates.

At the table, she poured a shocking amount of maple syrup over her stack and took a bite. Her eyes closed. “Oh, it’s so good. Thank you so much. You are so sweet.” She ducked her head and smiled. “I can’t believe how good you are to me.”

Isabel’s chest fluttered with pleasure. She shrugged. “It’s nothing. You know I like cooking for you.”

“Stop saying that. I’ve never woken up to anyone making me breakfast before.”

Isabel wasn’t surprised, exactly, but how someone could live with Mira for two years and not do the simplest things for her was unimaginable. Isabel wasn’t going to dwell on that. It made her angry in that instinctual way when something just wasn’t right. She’d have to channel it into treating Mira how she deserved to be treated.

It still didn’t seem real. She’d resigned herself to never being able to have Mira—and now Mira was happily eating breakfast at their kitchen table after she’d spent hours last night moaning and pleading and coming under Isabel’s hands. Isabel had missed feeling wanted, missed feelingneeded.

She wanted to give Mira everything. She couldn’t protect Mira from every bad thing in the world, as much as it hurt to admit it. But she could provide the basics: good food, good sex, a shoulder to cry on, a warm, safe home to come back to every night. More than that, she wanted to be a partner Mira could rely on for the rest of her life.

Isabel’s throat was lumpy again. It was too soon, and she had to take things slow for Mira’s sake, and maybe she wasn’t worthy. But she was in love. She wanted this to be forever.

They could be so good together. As long as Mira didn’t leave.

Halfway through their breakfast, Mira started running her foot up and down Isabel’s calf again. By the time they finished eating, Isabel was fully prepared to leave all the dishes in the sink, something she never did.

“We were doing something before we got interrupted,” she said. There were some things she was good at, even if facing her emotions wasn’t one of them.

“I think you’re right,” Mira said. She stood and took Isabel by the hand, leading her to the bedroom. Then Mira stopped short. “Can we go back to your bed?”

Isabel kissed her on the cheek. “Of course. You don’t need to ask.” She didn’t say what she wanted to say.My bed is yours. I’m yours. Everything I have is yours. And you’re mine.

“Are you still feeling nervous?”

Isabel nodded. Mira knew her well enough now that it was almost impossible to hide her state of mind. It made things easier and harder.

Mira leaned closer so she could be heard over the roar of the subway. “My friends will love you. You don’t need to worry.” She slid her hand into Isabel’s hand.

After a blissful week of sleeping in, cooking together, taking long walks around the park, and making love to Mira in every room and on every surface of the apartment, Isabel felt human again. For now, she could devote herself to making Mira happy. And it made her happy, too, deeply content in a way she hadn’t been in a very long time.

But she needed to win over Mira’s friends, too. She had to make them see that they were good for each other, that Isabel was good for her. She was rusty on the winning-people-over front these days, unused to meeting people other than other electricians on her crew. She just hoped she’d be able to make her case.

And she hated the so-called holiday season. After being subjected to endless holiday cheer after Alexa had died, she never wanted to hear a Christmas pop song again in her life. At least her parents were having Christmas dinner with their church friends, removing that responsibility for her. She wasn’t ready to see them again so soon.

Mira knew all this, and knew that Isabel didn’t want to talk about it. There was nothing to say. Grief was monotonous. She just had to endure these darkest months of the year.

They got off the train in Chinatown and walked to one of the dim sum places. Mira and her Jewish friends gathered there every Christmas—so she’d explained—along with whoever else wanted to come, if they didn’t celebrate Christmas or didn’t want to visit family. The restaurant was well-lit and full of big groups, mostly families, talking and laughing. Isabel tensed up. Mira squeezed her hand and looked at her, asking a silent question.

“I’m okay,” Isabel said. She opened the door for Mira, and they went in.

She spotted Mira’s friends sitting around an enormous round table, waving at them—mostly about her age, and a lot more low-key than her ex’s artist circle had been. Frankie and her girlfriend Vivian were there, and Shreya from Mira’s union, and several other people whose names Isabel tried to remember as they introduced themselves. She was good at that, if nothing else, since she didn’t like to forget apprentices’ names.

They sat down. More people arrived, and they got through the usual gauntlet of ordering several dozen dishes for a dozen people. Isabel let the conversation wash over her. She chatted with Shreya, sitting on Mira’s other side, who was straightforward in a way that put Isabel at ease. If Shreya thought it was strange that Isabel had reappeared as Mira’s girlfriend—if that was the right word—she didn’t say anything.

The food began to arrive. She tore into a fluffy char siu bao and talked to Mira’s friend Noah about their work as a housing lawyer. They both had plenty to say about the new construction around the city. Vivian occasionally interjected. She might have been scrutinizing Isabel. Or maybe Isabel was imagining things.

She was starting to relax. Maybe she could just enjoy the company tonight.

“Mira,” someone said across the table, and she and Mira both looked up. It was her friend Anjali a few seats away. “Seth and I have been meaning to ask you for wedding advice. Did yourparents just have separate Jewish and Hindu ceremonies, or did they have a combined one? My parents said they could be fine with either, depending on the details, so it’s kind of up to us.”

“You’re asking the wrong person,” Mira said. “My parents got married at City Hall.”

“Wait, seriously?” Anjali said. “And their parents were fine with that?”

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