Page 27 of Magic or Madness

“I’d love to go on a beach date, Ozzy.” I can’t contain my smile, and he lights up, pulling me back onto his shoulder.

We stay like this for hours, a never-ending stream of conversation flowing between us until I start dozing off. He slides me onto my side, snaking behind me until we're in a perfect spooning position. When he thinks I’m asleep, he presses a kiss to my forehead and whispers sweet nothings in my ear, but spoken in Italian.

“Sei tutto per me.”You’re my everything.

Instead of saying something back, I pretend to be asleep, keeping this sacred moment to myself to replay until the end of time.

I wake up alone,tucked under the blankets without Ozzy’s arms around me. Last night, we fell asleep tangled in one another, but now, I’m left to search for him.

I scan the room looking for his clothes, but they’re gone too. Maybe the vulnerability was too much for him?

I try to stuff the disappointment down, believing in the magic of our dynamic, and all the moments we’ve shared in the last few days. When I turn over, the feeling of how big and empty my bed is without him here hits like a freight train.

I hear muffled voices in the kitchen and pull a pillow over my head, assuming it’s Rae and Mick bickering as usual, but when I hear a deeper voice echo through the apartment, my heart rate speeds up.

He’s still here.

I dig around for the hoodie he let me wear home yesterday and tug it over my head, covering myself in his comfort. I stride out of my room, searching around the apartment until I see him bent over the stove with his back facing me, and my smile is impossible to hide.

Mick and Rae are maneuvering around him, making coffee and laughing at something he’d said.

“Fal loves her coffee sweet as hell. She’s got a mean sweet tooth,” Mick answers, handing him my favorite creamer.

“That's good to know, thank you, Mick.” Ozzy takes it from her, pouring it into a mug.

I’m watching them from afar, and they’re unaware that I’ve been listening while they talk freely about me. If there’s onething they have in common, it’s caring about me, and I couldn’t ask for anything more.

“Does she like ketchup?” Ozzy asks, assembling something on a plate.

“Yes. Half of that bottle is her just from this week.” Mick laughs, and Rae joins in at the dig at my expense.

It’s harmless banter between the three people who mean the most to me, and I couldn’t be happier, even if all they know how to do is make fun of me.

“Honestly, Fal is a simple girl, Ozzy, and you doing this will mean the world to her. She’s all about the little things,” Rae offers as advice, and Ozzy nods along as if he’s taking mental notes.

“I know. She’s very important to me, and everything I do is for her happiness. Just to see that smile where her eyes light up and you can see the dimples on her cheeks. That smile is the best thing I’ve ever seen, and I intend to keep it there, permanently. I hope you two understand that, being her only family,” he confesses, and they both stop in their tracks, looking straight at me.

Ozzy follows their eyes and sees me standing in the doorway, his face lighting up at the sight of me. I’m cemented in place as he strides toward me with his messy hair, and the T-shirt nearly hugging his muscles. It’s a sight this early in the morning, and when he reaches where I’m standing, I melt instantly.

“Good morning, Bambi,” he says quietly, handing me coffee and breakfast on a plate.

“Good morning, Ozzy.” I kiss his cheek, waving to the girls and closing the door behind us.

“I may have done some reverse interrogating on your friends, finding out what your favorite breakfast is.” He smiles, his entire face beaming with pride at the effort he went to.

“You cooked for me?”

“Of course,my beautiful girl. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you,” he purrs, towering over me as he tosses his hair in a small bun with one of my scrunchies.

It’s unexpected, and arguably even hotter than when he wears his hair down. Suddenly, my thoughts are overwhelming, but in a way that should be terrifying –I could wake up with this man every day for the rest of my life.

Instead of voicing those intruding thoughts aloud, I turn my focus back to the food, noticing how delicious it smells as the steam from the plate engulfs the tiny space between us.

“Well, what is it?”

“Bacon, egg, and cheese on a bagel, with extra ketchup,” he recites proudly, watching intently as I take the first bite.

“This is incredible. The eggs are so good,” I say, handing it off for him to taste.

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