Page 107 of Restricted List

I want to learn which side of the bed is her favorite.

If she cleans her dishes after she uses them or waits until the sink fills up.

If she’ll put on a pair of socks when her toes are cold or just use my legs to warm them up.

I want to know how she takes her coffee if she doesn’t have her favorite chai latte, how she likes her eggs in the morning… and how many kids she wants.

It iswaytoo soon to be thinking about that, so I’ll keep the thought to myself for now. But I can’t deny the warmth I feel at the thought of her potentially having my babies in the future.

When we wake up on Monday morning, we just lay in bed for a while, enjoying each other’s company and talking about anything and everything.

I tell her about how I had to shave my head my junior year of college after one of my friends drunkenly took a pair of scissors to it. I haven’t had a haircut since. I’ve been growing it since I was drafted six months later, and I just get it trimmed occasionally.

She tells me about the scar she has on her shoulder blade from falling off the swingset when she was five. She swears that’s why she has a fear of heights now.

It all feels so mundane and domestic.

I fucking love it.

Rory eventually leaves, saying she has some errands to run since Christmas is two days away.

And I use that time to spoil the absolute shit out of her with my own Christmas shopping.

Am I going overboard?

Abso-fucking-lutely.

Do I care?

Hell no.

I finally have Rory where I’ve always wanted her—in my arms as my girlfriend. This relationship was years in the making, and nothing will stop me from treating her exactly how I want to.

When I finish buying her gifts—some practical, some less practical, but a hell of a lot more fun—I drop the bags off at my apartment before heading to the stadium. I drank and ate a lot this weekend; I could use a good workout.

I’m only halfway through my workout, though, when I hear a voice behind me. “Still not using your building’s gym?”

I laugh nervously before turning to the man Ireallyhoped I wouldn’t bump into today—my girlfriend’s father. “Nah. You know I like this one more.”

Skip just laughs and shakes his head. “Have you talked to your friend lately?”

“Ari?” I ask.

“That’s the one.”

“Yeah,” I reply, rubbing the back of my neck. “Talked to him last week. He mentioned he’ll be in New York soon.”

“Friday morning,” Skip confirms. “I do have to thank you for that suggestion. Turns out, he seems to really want to play for the Stars.”

“Well, I did tell him he needs to play for a team that can actually win the pennant,” I laugh.

“Thunderbirds did almost win, though. But I’m hoping we can reach a deal with him on Friday. With Waller gone, we really need a permanent first baseman.”

“I’d be surprised if he doesn’t sign. I mean, I’m here.” I point to myself with a smug smirk.

“I told Rory at the wedding,” he grumbles, “that you were the one guy on the team that wasn’t a pain in my ass. Starting to think I was wrong.”

I rear my head back and laugh.

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