Page 91 of Bound to You

We talk about going out for dinners or getting out during the day, but never get around to doing anything but hiding out in my apartment together in our “love bubble.”

May’s words, not mine.

Not that either of us has officially said those three little words. I want to, I almost have multiple times. The syllables just want to tumble out of my mouth, but I stop myself every time. There are enough big feelings going on, I don’t need to add another revelation and freak Isla out if she doesn’t feel the same way about me.

Our friends have been nagging us to come out with them again. Okay, that’s a lie, the only person I can say is nagging would be Marina. She can’t stand Rafael and May’s bickering; it’s gotten worse without Isla and me there as buffers. But all I want to do is cuddle up on the couch with my girl, watching one of those silly true crime documentaries that she loves and learning more about her.

I love learning how her brain works.

Like how she hates wearing socks. She said she feels like her toes are suffocated, and that she likes the feeling of her bare feet on cold tiles, or the grass between her toes because it reminds her of running through Central Park with Miles as a child.

Or how she always gets hot in bed and throws the sheets off of both of us in the middle of the night in a heat induced tantrum.

Or how she will only eat ice cream with a teaspoon, because eating it with a dessert spoon just feels wrong.

We get more comfortable with each other every day and we actually talk about us. We spent half the night the day after family dinner hashing everything out.

“What if I move all the way over here for you and it doesn’t work? Then I’ll just have to move all the way back.” Isla’s head rested on the back of the couch as she voices her fears.

“Why would you have to leave?” I asked.

“I couldn’t stay here, it would be uncomfortable for you, the thought of running into me at the bar or at the bakery…”

“If you decide that this is where you want to be, regardless of me, it will be your home too. I would never expect you to leave.” I shook my head. “This is irrelevant anyway. I believe we can get through anything that comes up between us. Honest communication, remember? Always?”

“I…” she looked away. “I never had this kind of communication. I never truly had a partner that I could rely on.”

I pulled on her arm dragging her over to sit on top of me. “I never want you to doubt where you stand with me,” I wrapped her arms around my neck. “Before you this was my list of priorities: First, my social life,” I put my hand out flat in between us, before dropping it all the way to where her leg sits on top of mine, earning a precious laugh from her. “The D’Angelo’s,” I brought my other hand out putting it a step above the first one. “And work,” I brought my first hand back bringing it up to eye level in between us.

“These are my priorities now. Everything other than you,” I put my hand down low. “And doing anything I can to make you smile at me like you are right now.” My hand rose up as far as I could reach. Isla’s eyes sparkled with joy, and she giggled in that way that warms up my soul.

I smile as I lay here in bed, replaying our interactions over the last couple of weeks. I feel high, like nothing could burst our little love bubble.

Isla stirs beside me in my king bed, her feet tangling with the sheets as her eyes flutter open.

“Good morning, sleepyhead.” I press my lips to her forehead.

She mumbles a satisfied noise, a sleepy smile curving her lips.

“How do you feel about waffles?” Her eyes shoot open. “With bacon?” She nearly starts drooling right there.

I can’t help but chuckle at her, fucking adorable. “Why don’t you hop in the shower, and they’ll be ready when you’re done?”

Her smile is dreamy as I make my way to the ensuite to turn on the shower for her.

“Oh my god, could you be any more perfect? I think I’m in love with you.”

I stop dead in my tracks. My heart doing a flip in my chest. I look back at her and her face is just as shocked as mine, as if the words just slipped out.

“Did you…?”

“I think I did.”

“It’s okay if you didn’t mean it.” My heart fractures a little as I say it, but I’ll do anything to take the pressure off.

“No, yes.” She presses a hand to her face, rubbing her eyes, clearly flustered. “No, ugh. I mean…I think I did mean it.”

I’ve never moved faster than in the two quick strides it took me to be sitting beside her on the bed. “You think or you know?”

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