Page 125 of His to Cherish
I nodded slowly, feeling like I was in a hazy dream, before I moved to the bathroom, cleaned up, and brushed my teeth.
Through the glass, I watched as Aidan pulled up his boxers and climbed into the far side of the bed. When he did, he turned to me and watched as I finished brushing my teeth and rinsed my mouth out with water.
“That’s really weird,” I told him as I walked out of the bathroom. “To not have privacy.”
“I’ve seen every inch of your skin, and I think I know you use the toilet,” he said, laughing softly and pulling my body to his.
“Still, it’s weird to see everything.”
The lack of privacy felt strange. It built an intimacy that I didn’t know we had reached until the first time I had to use the bathroom and Aidan could see me. I’d almost had performance anxiety until Aidan turned his back to me.
He silenced me with a slow kiss, his tongue instantly sweeping inside my mouth and tangling with mine.
“Thank you for the great day,” he murmured against my lips.
“Thankyou,” I stressed, and shifted my body so I was lying on my side, my head on his shoulder, and my arm thrown over his stomach. “I had a lot of fun.”
And it had been fun.
We’d window-shopped on Michigan Avenue all afternoon. I hadn’t bought a single thing, but still loved walking in and out of every store I wanted to, with Aidan patiently trailing behind. We walked to Millennium Park and had the obligatory photo taken in front of The Bean.
Then we took a cab to the beach that runs along Lake Shore Drive and walked through the sand, holding our sandals, and watched thousands of people sunbathing and playing beach volleyball.
I felt lighter and younger and freer than I had in years as the day went by, even when Aidan grew silent. He told me stories about Derrick and the things they had liked to do when they visited Chicago, and I saw some sadness and stress leave his body as well.
It had been a tough day for him. I knew that.
But at the same time, it seemed to be healing him, too, offering him some sort of closure he hadn’t yet gotten.
I was honored that I’d been able to be a part of it.
As I continued replaying the day in my head—the smiles, the laughter, the joking, and scarfing down Gino’s Chicago-style pizza—sleep began pulling me under.
My eyes closed as I listened to Aidan’s breathing even out beneath me.
I thought he was asleep just as I felt my own body begin to go heavy.
So when he whispered, “Love you,” and brushed his lips against my forehead, I was too drowsy to flinch from the surprise or say anything.
Instead, I fell asleep, knowing that by the way he had whispered the words hesitantly, as if he was testing them out loud for the first time, he truly did.
—
“I don’t think I can ever eat another hot dog again.” I groaned and wrapped my hands around my stomach.
Next to me, Aidan guided me out of Wrigley Field with a hand on my back and a laugh escaping his lips. We’d just watched the Chicago Cubs beat the New York Yankees six to one. The game was an upset, and even though I wasn’t a baseball fan, I couldn’t help but get swept up in the energy from the fans from both teams packing the stadium. At the seventh-inning stretch, when I excused myself to go use the restroom, I surprised Aidan by coming back sporting my very own Cubs T-shirt and visor to block the afternoon sun from my eyes.
His wide grin and loud, full-stomach laugh when he threw his head back was all the thanks I needed. The scorching kiss he gave me in front of hundreds of people while they cheered us on and our kiss was plastered on the Jumbotron above center field was icing on the cake.
Now we were leaving, with hoarse voices from shouting for the last three hours and stomachs so full I didn’t think I could eat until at least dinnertime.
Unusual for me.
I groaned again as Aidan hailed us a cab on the jam-packed Addison Street outside the field.
“David used to live right down here,” Aidan said as the cab headed toward Navy Pier, our next stop.
“Really? Where?”
