“It just makes me,” she said through sobs, “really happy.”
“Oh, baby,” I said, chuckling as I rubbed her back. “Everything is coming together, isn’t it?”
“It’s scary for me to ask for what I want because then what if it doesn’t happen?” she asked through her sniffles. “But it’s happening and that’s exciting and really scary.”
“I know,” I said. “But it’s okay for things to go right, to go perfectly, to go exactly how you want them. That doesn’t mean anything is going to mess that up.”
“Don’t jinx us, Max,” she said, her breath finally even.
“I wouldn’t dare,” I said, crossing my heart with a grin.
Isabella leaned her head back against my chest. “Ugh, I don’t know what has gotten into me,” she said. “Maybe home ownership makes me emotional.”
“Hey, how about,” I said, “we don’t work on the house today. Let’s get out, let’s go explore the city, find a new place to eat or something.”
She tilted her face toward mine and smiled. “Okay, yeah, let’s do that.”
We’d been able to use one of the bedroom closets for storage for the last couple of weeks so we could keep our work clothes here and have a change of fresh clothes when we left. We both swapped out our work clothes for something less dusty and tattered and spruced up with what we had in the small bathroom off the room.
“I think it’s so cute that this bathroom connects to these rooms,” Isabella said as she fluffed her hair and dabbed at her eyes with a makeup brush.
“The Jack and Jill bathroom?” I asked, “Yeah, it’ll be perfect for when kids are up here; they can have their own bathroom and we won’t have to see it.”
I caught her eyes in the bathroom mirror. It would definitely need to be replaced. It had a large crack that ran across it diagonally and little rusted corners. But Isabella’s eyes were shining through the grimy mirror anyway.
“When do you want to get married?” I asked. The question came out of nowhere but considering it was on Isabella’s to-do list, I knew that she had a preference for the ideal timeline. I’d marry her today, tomorrow, next Thursday, it didn’t matter to me.
She chuckled and said, “Uh, I don’t know.”
I raised my eyebrows to let her know I did not believe that for a second.
“Okay,” she said, “I was thinking after the house is ready. I really don’t want to do anything big. Maybe our housewarming party can be a small wedding. Knock both out at the same time.”
“So that’s why you were crying,” I said teasingly. “The closer we get to finishing the house the closer you are to marrying me.”
“Oh, please, Max,” she said, “if I could have done it perfectly, I would’ve bought this house, gone down to the courthouse to get married, and gotten knocked up. All on the same day.”
“I do forget that I have a sugar mama,” I said, wrapping my arms around her waist and tugging her toward me.
She threw her head back and laughed. It was something I could finally tease about without getting in my head thinking our age gap bothered her. The only thing that bothered me was thinking all those years ago when I’d first laid eyes on her at her mother’s birthday party, I could’ve snagged her then. We could’ve both grown up together and I would’ve gotten to enjoy her in my life for that much longer.
But, I knew, deep down, the time Isabella had taken to travel and meet new people was what made her . . . her. Those experiences are what led her to fall in love with event planning and design and it’s certainly what makes her such a kick-ass business owner now. And for all of that, I wouldn’t go back to change a thing.
We found each other at exactly the right time. And everything else was going to line up exactly how Isabella wanted it to. I just knew it.
“All right, sugar mama, let me take you to lunch,” I said, tugging on her hand and putting myself behind her so she could walk through the bathroom. As Isabella stepped out of the bedroom to head downstairs, I tugged out the small velvet box I’d kept hidden in the back of my duffle bag on the floor of the closet.
Isabella scrolled her phone as we walked down the city streets, her thumb pausing on a note she’d kept tucked away in her phone—a list of all the hidden gems in NYC she’d been meaning to try. She settled on the Nook, a tiny hole-in-the-wall spot known for its unassuming façade but incredible fusion tacos. It was nestled in an alley off the beaten path, promising a culinary adventure. We agreed without a word, making our way to the nearest subway station.
When we got to the Nook, it was exactly as Izzy had described: a narrow entrance wedged between two larger buildings, with a faded sign swinging gently above the door. Inside, the smell of spices and sizzling meat hit us, a warm welcome that made my mouth water instantly. The clatter of dishes and the low murmur of conversations created a cozy cacophony, a soundtrack to the vibrant energy of the place.
The Nook was dimly lit, with mismatched chairs and tables crammed into every available space. Strings of fairy lights crisscrossed the ceiling, casting a soft, inviting glow over the patrons. We found a small table near the back, the intimate space encouraging closeness. As we took our seats, I watched Izzy’s face light up with anticipation, her excitement infectious. It was this, her ability to find joy in the new and unfamiliar, that drew me to her again and again.
As we sat, our knees brushing under the table, I couldn’t help but marvel at how easy it was to be with Izzy. There was no pretense, no need to fill every silence with words. We simply existed together, comfortably inhabiting the same space.
Ordering was a shared task; our selections were a mix of recommendations from the staff and adventurous choices from Izzy’s list. As the food was delivered to our table, the rich aroma of spices and sizzling meat filled the air. I watched as Izzy’s face twisted slightly, her nose wrinkling as if the smell was somehow off to her.
She shook her head , as though to clear away the sensation, and reached for a taco, one of the Nook’s signature dishes, filled with an inventive blend of flavors. She hesitated for a moment as if the mere act of shaking her head could dispel the unsettling sensation that had crept upon her. Then, with a resolve that seemed to push past her discomfort, Izzy again reached out for a taco.
