The next morning when I open my eyes, Ian is leaning on his hand, looking at me.
“Are you watching me sleep?” I mumble, turning over on my stomach, so I don’t breathe morning breath on him.
He lightly traces his fingers down my back … down, down, down.
“One of my favorite things to do.”
“Hmm.”
He leans down and kisses the small of my back. “It’s nice having you in my bed.”
“Does this feel different from all the other times I’ve been in your bed?”
“Yeah, it kinda does.”
“Hmm.”
He chuckles. “Hmm,” he says back. “You didn’t budge when I came to bed last night. I was in here within twenty minutes of you coming upstairs and you were out.” He lowers my panties and kisses my cheeks.
“You still want me around even if I don’t put out?”
He goes still. He comes up by my face and kisses my hair. “What’s going on with you, Little Bird? Talk to me.”
I just stare at the wall until he turns me over and gently nudges my chin to face him. I look at him but don’t say anything.
“Don’t go quiet on me, Sparrow. You know it tortures me when you do that. What did I do?”
His eyes are anxious and his brows are scrunched together in one big frown.
I look away, and he moves so I can’t look anywhere but at him.
I push him off of me and mutter, “I’m gonna brush my teeth.”
He sighs and gets up to brush his teeth alongside me. He tries to get me to laugh by making funny faces in the mirror at me, but I can’t do more than crack a smile. My heart feels so heavy.
“What are we doing, Ian?” I cringe. I didn’t mean for that to come out exactly.
“What do you mean?”
I get back in the bed. “I don’t know. I don’t even know what I’m feeling right now. Just … something your mom said started me thinking…”
“What did she say?” He looks at me with dread.
“That she hopes you can let go of all of your hang-ups with commitment to be with me.”
“Shit.” He rubs his face roughly with both hands. “I’ve never kept that from you.”
“I know, and I’ve never pushed you for anything … except to call on a regular basis.” I roll my eyes when I hear how ridiculous that sounds. The more I think about it, the madder I get. “I’m just realizing how I’ve given you the perfect little situation. You go travel the world, meet people all over place, do who knows what, and I’m at your beck and call whenever you want … which is really only every month or two … sometimes three or four.”
He looks floored. “I don’t understand. What have you been wishing was different? I thought we were only able to see each other that little because of how busy we both are … and that it’s actually been a lot, considering we’re halfway across the world from each other half the time.”
There’s a lump in my throat the size of a fist. It’s thrashing away in there, pummeling me.
“What would you do if I dated other guys? You’re not jealous at all, and that’s just weird!”
Ian stands up and starts pacing. “I wouldn’t like it, but I can’t keep you from it.”
“Yes, you can!” I slam my hand down on the sheets. “You could.”
“How?” Ian stops in mid-pace to stare at me.
“Say, ‘Sparrow, I don’t want you seeing anyone but me’ or ‘the thought of you with someone else drives me crazy’—that’s typically how it works in other relationships.”
“Well, isn’t that obvious?” Ian does a double-handed hair tug. “I mean, you know I didn’t like you kissing those guys, but you went out with them. I couldn’t do anything about that. I figured if you didn’t want to be kissed, you wouldn’t have put yourself in that situation. I don’t like it, but if that’s what you need, then I’m not gonna stop you.”
“I don’t need anyone but you, Ian. You’re the only one I want.”
“You’re the only one I want,” he says emphatically and stops in front of me. He pulls me up to him and kisses all over my face—my eyelids, my cheeks, all around my lips without actually kissing them.
“I feel that way when we’re together. I just … I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m feeling.” I shake my head and wish I could shake off my mood too.
“I’m not good at this, baby. You knew that from the beginning, but I know that I love you and you’re the only one I’ve ever felt that way about. Tell me what you need, and I will try to give you that. You’re young. I want you to be sure. I don’t want to push you into something you’re not ready for.”
“You haven’t pushed me into anything. Age is irrelevant when it comes to us. I don’t need to go out and date a bunch of guys to prove that I love you. I know what I know.”
“So … if I were to … ask you to marry me, what would you say?”
My heart thuds to the floor.
“I’m not gonna answer that until you ask me for real.” I look at him and try not to act as flustered as I’m feeling.
“You won’t even give me a hypothetical answer? So if I put myself out there and asked, I could have an idea of what you might say?”
He’s not joking. In fact, Ian looks as serious as I’ve ever seen him. He’s actually waiting for me to answer.
“Um. Well, I’d say, we have some things to figure out before we talk about marriage. Where would we live? When would be the right timing? Wait … you know, just a few minutes ago, you were still okay with me going out with other people. And now, you’re talking about marriage?” I’m the one who’s shocked now. I can’t believe how this conversation has turned.
“I was never okay with it. Let’s just be clear on that,” Ian corrects me. “I was just trying to let you figure it out. If you say you only want me, I believe you,” he says. “And you brought up commitment. I am committed to making us work. You’re the only one who has ever made me even consider marriage, and we’ve never really talked about it. I’m glad you brought it up.”
“I didn’t mean…”
“No, I know. I think about it, though, I do. All the time,” he confesses. He’s touching me again—the awkward moment passing, and a surge of excitement taking over the room.
“You do?”
“I do.” He leans down and kisses me softly. “And our babies.”
I gulp. I’ve only allowed myself to think about that when I’m in my bedroom alone, missing him. Otherwise, I might hope too much; my desperation for him might ooze out too much when I’m around him and he’ll run.
“I’d want our little girl to look just like you,” he says.
I hug him tight, before he can see the tears that are filling my eyes.
“Your heart is pounding out of your chest. Am I scaring you, baby?”
“No,” I whisper, “I’m not scared.”
“Would we be one of those couples who has to combine our two names to make her name?” he asks, a slow smile crossing his face.
“You mean something like Sparian? Or Ianow? Oh, I know! Orvillate! Yes, Orvillate, that’s the one.” I laugh.
“What about Orvate? Or Korville?”
I get tickled and can’t stop. “Wonai!”
He looks bewildered for a second. “Ahh…”
“See what I did there?”
He laughs. He dips me back and when he swoops me back up, he turns me around in a twirl. I feel loved and pretty until I stump my toe on the floor. It wrecks my nail polish.
“Dang!”
Ian checks on my toe and then stands up and starts dancing seductively in front of me. He pulls off his t-shirt and starts singing in a high falsetto voice, “Dang girl, dang girl, dang girl, dang girl, dang girl, dang.” He turns around and starts slowly pulling off his pajama bottoms, throwing in a pelvic thrust. “Dang girl, dang girl, dang girl, dang girl, dang girl, dang.”
At first I’m staring wide-eyed at him and then I lose it. He runs his hands through his hair and
then goes for his underwear, ripping them off and my mouth drops before I die.
“You’ve got me saying, ‘Dang girl, you’re so fine. The way you let me put it down, girl, just blows my mind. I guess I gotta put it down to—day. I gotta put it down…” he sings.
He’s picked me up and is ‘putting me down’ on the bed. I’m wiping my eyes and trying to catch my breath. Finally he stops and looks at me, grinning. “Dang girl, dang girl, dang…” he whispers as he kisses down my chest.
“You just put Justin Timberlake to shame,” I tell him.
“Thanks, you inspired me with your ‘dang’.”
“I see that.” I jump as he tickles my ribs. “It’s actually ‘damn’ though. DAAAAMMMN,” I holler as he tickles harder.
The rest of our stay goes without a hitch. We have so much fun. It feels like we’ve gone through another shift in our relationship. A huge one—as significant as when I came home to find him on the steps to my apartment.
If I were that kind of girl, I’d go home and start looking for a wedding dress. Good thing I’m not.
- 21 -
2 months later
I’m running from class to the coffee shop to cover an afternoon shift for Nadine. My phone starts ringing with Ian singing, “Dang girl.” It makes me laugh every single time it rings.
“Hello?” I snicker.
“Would you get a new ring already? So I can hear your sexy, breathless ‘hellooo’ when you answer instead of you in mid-cackle.”
“I thought you loved my cackle.”
“You don’t really cackle, I just thought you’d enjoy that word.”
“You know me so well. I do.”
“Whatcha doin’, bayyyby?”
“I’m about to start an afternoon shift. What about you?”
“Well, I’m missing you, and I was thinking I’d try to change my flight to come in earlier…”
“Earlier than tomorrow?” I ask excitedly. “Do it! Come on! I only have to work four hours. Can you be here by then?”
“Well, I can be there in six, if everything goes well with flying stand-by.”
“Ohhhh. This is good. I can sleep with you tonight!” I shout.
Several people on the street turn around and stare at me. One mother walking by with her son gives me a glare.
“Sorry!” I mouth to her and then bite my lip until it hurts.
“Yes! I was hoping you’d allow me in your bed.”
“If you behave,” I whisper.
“Now, come on, baby, you know I can’t do that.”
“I do have an early shift tomorrow.”
“Okay, maybe I’ll drag my ass out of bed so I can watch you work.”
“We’ll see how you feel after I keep you up all night.”
“Mmm, I love your dirty mind.”
I laugh. “Hurry, get here! I can’t wait!”
“Okay, Little Bird. Done. Tonight, I am gonna screw—”
“Sorry, babe. I’m here. Gotta run!”
I hang up, snickering to myself that I cut him off mid-steam.
I rush home after my shift and take another shower. I pick up around the apartment. Tessa has been spending more and more time at Jared’s place. I decide I should call her, but only get her voicemail.
“Hey girl, it’s me. Just calling to let you know that Ian is coming TONIGHT! And I thought you should be forewarned in case you happen to come HOME tonight for once and hear me moaning … do NOT come save me, I am JUST FINE. Okay. Love you. Bye.”
Baked spaghetti is in the oven, the marinara and alfredo sauces are warming on the stove—Ian likes half with marinara and half with alfredo poured over it—lemon icebox pie is already made and the wine is chilling.
Ian decided long ago that he would always get a cab from the airport. He doesn’t like me going to the airport to wait for him by myself. I’ve run into some crazies that are hard to shake every time I go. I seem to draw the crazies like a moth to a flame. Ian says the bugs come to the light. He earned a kiss for that one. Even though I know I can take care of myself, it really is much easier this way.
I’m wearing a long black nightie that has a slit up to kingdom come, and black heels that are come-hither shoes all on their own. I had everything ready for tomorrow night, but he’s coming early! I want to make it worth his while.
He texts when he’s close, and I unlock the door. I spray the perfume he gave me and walk into it. I brush my teeth one more time and put on some tasty lip gloss. I can’t sit. I’m too giddy.
About four minutes before I expect him to show up, I go to the kitchen and pretend to be busy at the stove. Stir, stir, stir.
The sight of me cooking in sexy lingerie is ALMOST as intoxicating to him as Sparrow the librarian. Not quite, but close. That’s why I’ve put my hair up and secured it with pencils. It took four for my thick hair. I wonder if that’s overkill.
He gives a soft knock on the door and then opens it. “Sparrow?”
“In here,” I call.
“You HAVE to lock your do—whoa. What have you done?” He’s looking me up and down and lands on my hair. Fuck, I hear him whisper.
I hide my laugh behind an attempted sexy pose. Honestly, this man is so easy.
He rushes across my tiny kitchen in one giant step and crushes me against him. He kisses me hard, not taking his time for any slow or gentle build up. He is all in. Now.
God, I love him.
He bends down to pick me up and starts to stride to the bedroom.
“Wait,” I say, shaking my head no. “Dinner first.”
“What?” His eyes actually look glazed.
“Put me down.”
He obeys, strictly because all the blood has left his brain. Otherwise, he would be giving me grief right now.
“Dinner.” I point to the oven and try to do a sexy walk. I make it there without stubbing anything. “Sit.” I point to the table where everything looks so pretty.
He pulls his lips out between his thumb and index finger until they’re squished tightly together. He draws a deep breath and goes to sit down like he’s told. Once he sits down, he seems to regain his sass and begins muttering.
“Just because you look all—” he waves his hand up and down, “—and have your hair all—”
“Yes?” I prompt. This is so entertaining. I should have done this a long time ago.
He growls at me.
The joke is on me once we begin eating. The food is delicious, if I do say so myself. But Ian, two bites in, after saying how good it is, turns white. I think it’s a trick of the light at first. He’s watching me eat with a faint smile on his lips, eyes wide and still. And then he goes green.
“Excuse me.” He goes to the bathroom and is in there for about ten minutes.
Oh, this isn’t good.
He comes back and looks a teensy bit better, closer to the white than the green.
“Are you okay?” I ask, so concerned.
“I am,” he says emphatically.
He tries a few more bites and again, green. He sets down his fork and puts the bottom of the chilled wine bottle on his cheek.
“You’re scaring me,” I whisper. “Do you need to go lay down?”
“If you had just let me take you to bed like I was trying to, none of this would be happening.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah,” he croaks out before rushing to the bathroom.
Well, that didn’t quite go as I was hoping. I take another few bites of spaghetti and take everything to the counter to cover up and put away. Looks like there will be lots of leftovers. When Ian walks out, he stands in the kitchen doorway.
“Did you get enough to eat?” he asks.
“Yeah, I did. Are you feeling any better?”
“Yes. I’m … just fine.” He grabs my hand. “Can we sit on the couch? I thought I could wait, but I can’t. I—”
“Okay, now you’re really scaring me. What’s going on, Ian?”
I hold onto his hand while he leads me to
the couch. I sit down and look up at him, waiting for him to sit beside me.
He gets down on both knees in front of me.
“Sparrow, I—”
Wait a minute. Ohgodohgodohgodohgodohgod.
He smiles at me, and some of the color in his face returns. His blue-grey, green, ever-changing eyes kiss me with each glance. He loves me.
“The day I met you, I went home and told Jeff that I had met the girl I would marry … not ‘would’ like I thought it would happen, but would, as in, if I could marry any girl in the world … any girl … I would choose you. He laughed, and I agreed that it was the most farfetched idea I’d ever had because there’s no way I could ever deserve someone like you.”
He gulps then and his eyes fill, making them even more beautiful. Tears start rolling down my face and he wipes them one by one.
“But then you loved me. I don’t know why, but you did. And something small inside of me grew and I hoped that I could be all that you saw in me. I love you, Sparrow Kate Fisher. I love you so much, it hurts. I love you so much, it’s taken over right here—” he puts my hand on his chest “—and swallowed me whole until I can’t think of anyone or anything but you. You have completely captivated me. And I only want more.”
He stops then and pulls a ring out of his pocket. My breath catches. The sparkle from the ring is zinging around the room, casting prisms everywhere. It’s beautiful.
“Will you marry me, Sparrow?” He lifts his eyebrows as he holds up the ring, as if the ring is what will entice me. It really is a gorgeous ring.
I look at him and the ring and grab both sides of his face and kiss him. “I love you, I love you, I love you,” I whisper between each kiss. “You woke me up the day we met, Ian. Maybe even before that—when I first saw you—enough for me to write it in my diary.” I smile and lean my head against his. “You make me feel like I can be exactly who I am, and you’ll just love me all the more, however I turn out.” I laugh. “And you turn my insides into mush…” When I pull back to see him better, he still looks worried.
“Yes, I will marry you,” I say.
“Aaaahhh,” he yells, and he stands up, taking me with him. “Yes? You’re saying yes? Are you sure? You don’t care that we don’t have it all figured out yet?”
True L̶o̶v̶e̶ Story Page 21
