It took us no more than two weeks to find a near perfect apartment. Alistair had been at a job interview, so Carlisle and I went alone, and I couldn't deny that I loved how much the outing felt like a date. I made sure to keep my hands to myself during the walk-through of the place, not wanting to risk our chances of getting the apartment if she wasn't comfortable with our relationship. My efforts went out the window as Carlisle outed me as his husband by the time we reached the kitchen. The woman didn't bat an eye, no less pleasant than she was before.
I gave in to wanting to hold his hand. He shot me a hopeful smile, stepping closer into my side. "Do you like it?" he whispered as we lingered in the doorway of the first bedroom.
I just nodded, afraid to jinx it by saying too much. We trailed the woman from one room to the next, and I was trying to stop myself falling in love with the place. I'd failed at not getting my hopes up by the time we'd circled back around to the front door, Carlisle discussing rent payments and our cat with her while she promised we'd receive an offer if we filled out an application.
"That sounds good?" he asked hesitantly in the elevator.
I pulled my hand from his to drape my arm over his shoulders, drifting him into me. "Yeah - it's a shame Al couldn't have been with us."
"I really don't think Alistair is too invested in where we end up, as long as he has a roof over his head." That had been abundantly clear after I'd first tried to show him a couple of ads - as long as it wasn't horrendously expensive or full of mold, he seemed happy.
We stopped at a coffee shop on the way home. Tucked at a little table in the corner, I was a little giddy. We'd started going out for hot drinks, sometimes brunch, whenever he was feeling well enough - good practice for both of us - and every time it made me hot under the collar. I wasn't sure if it was the dates themselves, or how attentive he was to me, but it happened without fail.
Now, sitting across from me, he'd trapped my knee between his under the table, murmuring constant reassurance every time I glanced up in search of it. It was getting easier each time, muffins or pastries starting to go down much easier - easier than it was for him, anyway. Trying to avoid the resulting stomach ache, he'd started to cut possible allergens out of his diet one by one, the latest thing being dairy. It was starting to make everything he ate so horribly bland that I was worried he'd starve to death, and he was still uncomfortable afterwards.
I stole his cup from him as he set it down, cautiously taking a sip of it to see how much damage the milk alternative had caused. The consistency was all wrong, the taste having an undertone of wet cardboard. "Of all the things you've had to put up with in the last year, this is the most miserable," I told him, wrinkling my nose as the taste lingered after I'd swallowed. "Are you sure it's worth it if you have to drink this from now on?"
He groaned a little. "I kind of hope it doesn't make a difference - I don't want to have to drink soy for the rest of my life."
"Maybe you'll grow up and stop taking milk?" I teased. I grinned at him as he rolled his eyes, as if he hadn't been the one to order for us and was oblivious to what was in my mug. My body flushed with heat as his eyes met mine. God, he was pretty, especially in the soft lighting of the cafe, the sun seeping through the window making his hair a little more golden. Lord knows why he'd ever gotten it into his head to ask me out in the first place, let alone put up with everything over the last year.
We obviously weren't following the same train of thought. Whatever I'd expected him to come out with, it hadn't been a full admission to tracking Heidi online. The harsh flush in his cheeks made it very clear he already knew I disapproved, but he pushed through it, for some god forsaken reason shoving his phone at me to show me her profile, her latest set of pictures pulled up.
I was sure it was a test, that he was gauging my reaction to her scantily clad body - until he started rambling about her very clearly not being pregnant, that she was just trying to get in my head, that she was still calling him and claiming that she was carrying my baby and he was worried that she was bothering me too. That was undeniably my fault as well; she only hassled him in the first place because she knew it upset me more than if she contacted me directly.
"I'd really rather you didn't, uh, check on her, Carlisle."
"It's only fair - she's invasive to us," he grumbled. Already, it looked like he knew he couldn't really justify it, and I didn't need to bicker with him over it.
"It's not fair that you're trying to protect me from the consequences of my own actions," I corrected carefully.
"I know, but you have to look after me constantly, and-"
"You're my husband; I'll look after you every day for the rest of our lives if I need to." I caught his hand, threading our fingers together. "That's a non-issue." He was becoming more self-sufficient anyway - there were days where he struggled to cope, usually immediately following another round of treatment, but otherwise he was getting better at it.
He risked a glance up to meet my eyes after watching the tabletop for far too long. "I don't want that to be our lives. There's nothing equal about this relationship if I just leech off of you."
I tried to ignore the way my inside instantly knotted. "It isn't like that - we've talked about this many times before," I reminded him softly. "I don't know what I'd do without you." I hated the table between us, hated that he'd chosen to bring this up while we were in public, but thawed a little as he managed an unsure smile.
"I love you."
"I love you too."
.
.
I almost couldn't believe it when the confirmation came through a few days later, paperwork for us to take over the lease of the place I'd had my heart set on. Alistair had been enthusiastic about it when we'd shown him pictures, and Carlisle just wanted to shift as soon as possible. It'd be a few more weeks before we could actually move in, but I hoped it would help my husband relax a little knowing that we had a firm exit date now.
Every few nights, he was having the same meltdown. He'd stopped waking me up, only telling me about it in the morning when his sudden spike in anxiety and fatigue was too much to hide. Both Al and I had tried to reason with him why it was impossible for someone to be breaking into our home every three days without leaving a trace, never taking anything. It didn't help - he was still paranoid, only not wanting to talk to either of us about it after we'd challenged it so much.
A heavy pounding on our front door woke us both up early one morning. On autopilot, I shoved Carlisle back into bed as he flew into a blind panic, his eyes wide and frightened as we silently stared at each other through the dark.
Frantic breathing.
Everything quiet.
Another series of dull thuds.
My stomach had dropped through the floorboards. He was right.
Fear subsided slightly as a harsh voice on the other side demanded "police! Open the door!"
I sucked in a sharp lungful of cold air. Not Caius. Of course it wasn't.
"No- Garrett, don't, it's going to be him," he whispered frantically, starting to grab a fistful of the front of my shirt as I pulled away.
"Stay there," I whispered back.
Tears instantly welled up, his hands knotting in the fabric as he pleaded, locking around my forearm when I managed to pull free. He scrambled out of bed after me, glued to my side, still desperately trying to stop me but giving up once he found he wasn't strong enough. I didn't turn on the lights as we tiptoed down the hallway, his begging for me to turn back never ceasing until we were in earshot of whoever was on the other side of the wood.
The fear drained from my body as I peeked through the peephole, confusion taking over. "It really is the police, Carlisle, it's alright," I promised, breathing a sigh of relief as I clicked the lock undone.
The door flew open as soon as I turned the handle, uniformed officers bursting through the door frame, shouting for us to put our hands where they could see them. We both instinctively did as we were told. I thought the chaos would be over, that they'd see they were in the wrong apartment, but I was suddenly being shoved into the wall, my arm twisted behind my back, a frantic glance over at my husband finding him already restrained.
I didn't have to look to know that the cool steel against my wrists were handcuffs. I let one of them push me to the ground without any protest, my back pressed into the kitchen counter as another officer forced Carlisle into the same position. I wasn't listening to whatever was being shouted, my eyes locked on him until he was suddenly frantic and I realised I'd missed something critical.
Someone had made a 911 call claiming that I'd assaulted him. Someone who knew all of our personal details, and knew the condition he was already in. The officers spent over two hours with us, refusing to let us see each other until it was abundantly clear that the allegations were false. We both had a pretty good idea of who might have pulled a stunt like that.
Two of them had taken me outside to sit in the back of the cruiser, presumably to keep me away from Carlisle, but the handcuffs came off as soon as he'd said enough to clear me. They were far more friendly during our return trip in the elevator, chatty, but I couldn't breathe around the lump in my chest until I was through the threshold of our front door.
As much as I'd hated doing it at the time, I was very glad for the report I'd filed against Heidi. It had her name written all over it - to the point that I was pretty sure Caius hadn't crossed Carlisle's mind since we'd nearly had our door kicked in. We couldn't prove it, but they still recorded our suspicions, offering us an apology as they left our home. Somehow finding it within himself to still be pleasant at 4am, Carlisle had politely shown them out, his smile pained until he'd shut and locked the door.
"You okay?" he asked me from across the room.
I nodded, blowing out a shaky breath. My legs were shaky despite sitting on the couch, my stomach in a tight knot. "I didn't see that coming. I guess I should have, though."
"You couldn't have known she was going to call the cops," he argued gently. "She doesn't have any proof; you can't be charged if you've never touched me." He came to drop himself into the seat next to me, his shoulder against my side, pressing a quick kiss against my jaw.
I still felt sick. Despite the early hour, neither of us were able to get any sleep. We stayed in the lounge until the sun came up, eventually settling enough to have an early breakfast. I fried bacon and eggs while my husband put together our drinks and set the table, feeding the cat while he waited for me - the routine helped put our morning back together.
I felt a little less miserable about my near-arrest by the time I'd coerced Carlisle into taking a nap with me, not that he'd made any attempt to fight it. A little bruised from being manhandled, he'd been more than happy to curl up in bed, investing himself in a book while I forced him to let me lie against him. None of it seemed quite so bad anymore.
.
.
Alistair had initially teased us when he'd arrived in the afternoon and found us worse for wear. His scowl seemed permanent as I explained what had happened, his grumble about pressing charges against Heidi for false allegations getting quiet agreement out of my husband, distracting him from his laptop long enough to join the conversation.
"We can't prove that it was her," I reminded them. I picked at the seam of the couch underneath me, the grey stitching allowing me to avoid looking at either of them. Having been handcuffed a little over twelve hours earlier still had me on edge, and the mention of that woman hadn't helped.
"She's going to lose it when she finds out you're moving," Al sighed. His footsteps tracked through the kitchen, presumably to where my husband sat at the table, a chair scraping against the floor as he pulled it out.
"She's already lost it - she never had it in the first place to lose it," Carlisle grumbled back. "How much more can she escalate before anyone actually cares?"
My eyes darted to him, desperately trying to gauge whether he was upset with me or just sleep deprived. "Until we can catch her, I guess. We'll be out of here soon; she won't be able to follow us."
"Gar, she found your car while you were parked at the hospital - I'm pretty sure she'll be able to find our new address if she wants it," he argued. "I don't think she's going to just give up."
"Maybe she'll get bored?" I suggested hesitantly.
"I doubt it," Alistair muttered while Carlisle shook his head.
Stupidly, my throat was getting tight, my chest heavy as I tried to swallow away the lump. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do about her." The crack in my voice instantly gave me away, not at all disguised as I turned my attention back to the crease in the seat. I forced steady breaths through the resulting silence, involuntarily tensing as I heard one of them get up.
Carlisle slowly sat in the seat next to me, folding his legs under himself so his knee brushed my thigh, his hand slipping over my wrist. "We're still fine; everything is still okay," he reminded me softly.
"She almost got me arrested, Carlisle. And she sent all that stuff to my parents- I don't want her to do anything that will damage our relationship more than I already did," I murmured to him, acutely aware that Alistair was still uncomfortably lingering. I needed to get used to that if we were going to be living together permanently.
"Is there anything you haven't told me?"
I obediently shook my head.
"Don't worry about it, then."
"God, I love you." I slipped my arm around his shoulders as he moved to kiss my cheek, tugging him into my side. "Are you tired?"
"I'm always tired, Gar."
"More tired than usual?" They'd been too rough with him last night. My joints still ached a little from the initial scuffle, and I didn't have to look to know that he'd been left with bruises. He'd ignored that it had even happened most of the day, determined to meet a deadline that his manager had forced on him despite barely being an employee there anymore. No doubt there was more that he hadn't told me about - he'd spent days on end attached to the device over the last fortnight.
"I'm fine, Garrett, I promise." Slouching down, he moulded himself against my side, taking my hand.
Alistair loudly cleared his throat from across the room. "What are we doing for dinner?"
"Whatever you want, Al. There's leftovers in the fridge?" I offered. It seemed to please him - he was up and rummaging in the refrigerator before I'd barely finished the sentence. I settled into the furniture, repetitively brushing my thumb over the back of his knuckles as he finally started to relax.
.
.
I'd initially worried that Carlisle would be too anxious to sleep once it was time to go to bed, in light of the brutal disturbance the night before, but I really shouldn't have. He'd barely made it through dinner before he'd crashed, after boldly assuming that he'd be able to sit up with Alistair and I and watch a movie. He was out within the first fifteen minutes.
"I really don't think he can blame that on the flu anymore," Al commented. "Did he even make it through the opening credits?"
"Not sure," I admitted with a chuckle. "He's been awake since 3am though, I think we can let it slide."
"He's the one that asked to watch this," he grumbled.
I reached for the hand resting on my thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze. That was true - Al and I had been bickering about it, and I was pretty sure he'd only picked the film to shut us both up. It really didn't matter anymore. I tossed the TV remote to Alistair, slouching down a little further into my seat to draw my husband into me, rubbing his shoulder when it made him fidget. "Change it, then; I don't care."
The movement woke him up enough to fold his legs under himself, his head on my stomach as my fingers trailed up my spine. "What's the time?" he mumbled softly.
"Just go back to sleep." I needn't have answered - he was gone again before he'd heard my reply. Even once the film had finished, Al asleep and snoring softly in his seat across from us, I wasn't sure whether I should wake him to go to bed. I could barely keep my eyes open as I slid out from under him, frowning while I floundered. The resulting panic attack that came from waking up alone, in a different space, seemed more cruel than just making him come with me. "Bed time," I whispered, nudging his shoulder.
There was a long pause before he was lucid enough to make sense of my words. "For both of us?"
"Yeah." I held out my hand as he sat up, tugging him to his feet. "Still feeling okay?" I checked once we were lying in bed.
In the darkness, his arm slid over my waist, one knee creeping across my thigh. "I'm good."
.
.
I'd agreed to it weeks ago, but it didn't make the date any more alarming when it did arrive - I could have kicked myself telling Carmen that it was no problem for me to make my niece's birthday cake. Fairy princess tea party, was the theme Kate had requested. I could hardly say no after she'd been forced to change schools because of me. It also meant that Carlisle and I had to attend said tea party, and I'd only broken the news to him two days before. And that I'd finally be facing my family after Heidi had sent them far more than I ever wanted them to see of me.
Waking up before seven AM on my day off felt illegal, but my husband was already up anyway. I was still half asleep when I reached the kitchen, digging my knuckles into my eye sockets as if it would make me a little more coherent.
"Do you want coffee?" Carlisle asked, smirking at me when I peaked at him through the stars I'd rubbed into my vision.
"I have to go to the grocer," I grumbled back, as if that was somehow his fault. As if I hadn't brought this all on my own head. I wasn't a fucking cake decorator - there wasn't any way this was about to go well. If the worst came to the worst, I was mentally preparing to pay the highly inflated fee of ordering a professional cake on short notice. "Why are you up?"
He rolled his eyes at my tone and ignored my question. "Do you want to get coffee on the way, then?"
"Will you come with me?"
"Yeah, if we can get a drink." We'd spent far too much on barista-quality caffeine recently, but I wasn't going to argue, especially if it meant that I didn't have to face the trip alone. We made it to the car before I realised I actually needed to go to a department store. It still didn't seem like a great idea to drag Carlisle into a complex like that, but I didn't get any complaints when I brought it up. I slammed the driver's door a little too abruptly as I got in, the vehicle shaking at the impact and Carlisle placing a patient hand on my thigh. The urge to have a toddler-scale meltdown was hard to resist. I was a fucking idiot for agreeing to all of this.
Even with my early start and foul mood, the wave of pleasure I got from watching him take a sip of the drink without hesitation wasn't dampened. It didn't matter how much money we wasted doing it if it meant that he was getting better, looking more like himself than he had in weeks, quickly getting down a toasted sandwich before we reached the store without picking it into a million pieces first. I was also far less hostile with something warm in my stomach. "Do we have to dress up? Like in costumes?" he asked me in the carpark.
"I don't think so." I fucking hoped not.
"Won't the kids be dressed as fairies? Or princesses? Or-?"
I really couldn't tell if he was teasing me. "I don't know, baby."
"Don't you want to? You'd be cute as a fairy." Definitely teasing me.
"Absolutely not," I grumbled, earning myself a laugh from the passenger's seat.
"An elf?"
"Carlisle."
He took a sip from his disposable cup, balling up the paper his sandwich had been wrapped in and lulling me into a false sense of security that he'd dropped it. "A prince, then, if we're conforming to gender norms?"
"Carlisle." I got out of the car before he had time to continue, sighing heavily when he met me in front of the bonnet, unable to wipe the smile off his face. It was far preferable to the state he'd worked himself into in the past when we'd been out, and it was a relief that my bad attitude didn't seem to be bothering him.
He was grinning at the floor, linking his fingers through mine as we headed inside, letting me steer him toward the correct aisles. "It would be rude not to, don't you think?"
"I'm going to make you wait in the car if you don't knock it off."
"After you begged me to come?" Someone was obviously feeling a lot better.
I huffed again - much to his entertainment, apparently - and brought us to a stop in front of a wall of sprinkles and fondant, the selection enough to silence both of us for a few moments. "Help me choose a present for her once we make it out of here?" I asked lowly.
This time, I only got a nod in response. It was taking the weight off that I didn't have to bear the brunt of my over-commitment alone.
.
.
It was a good day. A great day, even. We found my niece a gift, along with one for Eleazar who's birthday was a week later, and Carlisle survived our trip out unscathed. Our lunch - eaten in the car, when I couldn't deal with the stress of baking and eating in a cafe on the same day - didn't seem to cause any major issues past mild nausea, though he'd carefully chosen what he'd eaten when he'd ordered it. Even the weather had improved by mid afternoon. We stopped in at my brother's house on the way home to pick up a bag of supplies from Carmen - my husband had agreed to help her put together some of the decorations tonight, and we'd drop them off the following morning with the cake.
It also meant that we got to spend the whole afternoon together. He helped decorate the cake once it had cooled enough for the icing, sitting in the kitchen with me when I decided that if I'd come this far, I may as well fully commit to baking for a party of children, and that maybe the task wasn't that terrible after all. While I slowly covered our kitchen in a layer of flour and sugar, I watched him in my peripheral vision as he painted and glued and dusted our dining table in glitter.
By the end of the evening, I'd made the damn cake, along with cupcakes and slices and cookies, and he'd finished table-toppers and put portions of the baking into cute little packages for me. It had been a little too easy to fall into the fantasy of doing this for our own children one day, putting the finishing touches on in the dead of night while they slept and employing my family's help to keep it all somewhat of a surprise.
"Today was fun," Carlisle commented after dinner. We'd made an attempt to clean up, and although it was been reasonably easy to wash the icing off the bench, the colours melting as soon as the water leached into it, he'd gotten far too much glitter on the floor, on his clothing, on nearly everything he touched despite his attempts to wipe it up. I'd never purposefully touched it, but my shirt was still shimmering with silver when I looked down at myself.
"Our carpet is going to be pink and sparkly for the next month," I told him, my hands in the soapy water in the sink, a teasing reprimand.
He laughed easily. "We're moving anyway; that's the next tenant's problem."
"The flooring might be, but you're never reclaiming that sweatshirt."
"Good thing it's yours, huh?" he countered.
I rolled my eyes at him, biting back a smile. "You thief." I caught hold of the teatowel to dry my hands, taking a second to admire what we'd managed to get done over the last few hours. It was the most activity he'd been able to tolerate for a long time. Maybe the birthday party itself wouldn't be so bad.
.
.
The following morning brought far more anxiety that I anticipated. None of my clothing would fit properly, and my husband already looked tired. "Are you sure about this?" I asked for the umteenth time. I was a breath away from saying we weren't coming, taking everything off and eating the baked goods myself. Carmen had also invited us to stay afterwards for a few glasses of wine, in celebration of my brother. I doubted we'd make it that far.
"We're going Garrett; you're not missing another family event because of me. I feel fine," he argued. "I told Carmen that we'd help set up; we can't abandon her now."
"They can manage a bunch of balloons - Eleazar has other friends they could have asked." I halted my attempts of trying to look presentable to watch him give his best impression of 'not sick'. To his credit, he had done a fairly convincing job - his clothes were starting to fit a little nicer again, hiding all evidence of the past few months, and the colour in his face wasn't fever driven for once.
He caught me staring after a few seconds, quickly looking down at himself before back at me. "What's the matter? You don't want to match?"
If I'd felt dumb for dressing semi-formally before, the feeling was a little less now, the blue of his shirt matching my tie. "You look nice," I told him sheepishly.
"So do you," he smiled back. That wasn't true; I already knew that nobody else would be dressed like this - it was a kids birthday for christ's sake - but I hadn't been able to get past the familiar nerves that social events brought on. There was no way we weren't going to be eating there, there would be photos, and there was no chance I could escape it. Carlisle hadn't called me out when I'd been overtly difficult all morning, had already assured me that I had full control over when we left, and had met me halfway with dressing up. "Do you want to go?"
"Yeah. I'm just being dumb."
"Should we pack lunch? We can eat in the car?" he offered.
I shook my head; if he could suck it up, so could I. "No, I'll be alright."
All too soon we were out of the house. I wasn't sure what it was about me that made Carlisle question over and over if I was okay to drive, if he should carry the cakes, was I sure that I was alright. Even my best reassurances didn't seem to convince him. My hands were shaking by the time we arrived. We were barely in the door before Kate was running at us, throwing herself at our legs and making me wobble enough that I nearly dropped the containers I was balancing.
Carmen swooped in to take them from me, ushering us inside to shut the weather out. I picked up my niece to avoid the awkward round of hugs, leaving Carlisle subject to my sister-inlaw, and an uncomfortable handshake from my brother. Thankfully Eleazar managed to keep his mouth shut.
They'd alright started putting together the decorations. Bypassing the half-hung balloons, I took shelter in the kitchen with Carmen, unpacking what we'd brought. "Carlisle looks better," she commented eventually, when our conversation dried up.
I glanced over my shoulder to find him missing. "He's been doing better. Getting sick a few weeks ago was a little bump in the road, but it doesn't seem to be affecting him any more."
She was quiet for a moment, checking again that he wasn't with us. "You two are nice together. Have things settled now?"
I nodded without entirely understanding what she meant - it would be a lie if she was referring to Heidi. "Has Kate…does she like her new school? There haven't…been any problems with the move?"
"She seems to be enjoying it; she's made a few friends. They'll be here this afternoon."
"And their parents, right?" I hadn't meant the comment to slip out, my face heating as she turned to look at me.
The reprimand dissolved on the tip of her tongue. "Let me make you a drink, love; it'll be alright."
.
.
I'd lost track of Carlisle while I'd been in the kitchen. My initial worry faded when I found him kneeling on the carpet, balloons in hand, twisting the brightly coloured tubes until they vaguely resembled creatures. Eleazar was precariously on a stepladder, stringing up the others against the wall, and for the first time in a long time, the conversation between them didn't seem strained.
I eavesdropped from the doorway while they talked about Kate's new school, how the renovation my brother was undertaking in the house was going, and my husband's job. All of the topics seemed safe, sweet almost, and a wave of relief washed over me now that they were getting along. It was only when my brother nearly toppled off the ladder that I intervened.
I lunged forward to steady it, Carlisle suddenly on his feet as well as El cursed. "You're a hazard," I accused, unable to help a laugh at the startled yelp he let out.
"Do you want to get up here, Garrett?" he grumbled back. Still, he got his footing back, more careful as he stretched up again. I didn't dare let it go. Standing with the two of them, I was definitely the third wheel, my presence offering nothing but stability as the two of them hung the rest of the decorations. "Will you two stay for drinks tonight?" he asked eventually, the question still directed at Carlisle.
He caught my eye before he nodded, and I couldn't do anything but grin back. Maybe today wasn't so terrible after all.
.
.
My parents were pleased to see us. Even more pleased to see Carlisle. He was coping well with the children and their noise, their sticky hands, the screaming and the running continuously down the hallway. I coped better once Eleazar had poured me a glass of wine. Even better after the second, barely after 3pm. My brother was justifying it as a birthday treat as he had one with me.
When I stood and the room spun, I knew it was time to stop. Eleazar laughed, already filling my empty glass, Carlisle grabbing my arm as I swayed in place, suddenly at my side.
"I haven't eaten," I admitted, giddy as I dug my fingertips into the benchtop. The feeling regulated after a few moments.
"Lightweight," El laughed, nudging the cup towards me. "Bottoms up."
"I'm driving home," I reminded him. God knows I was pushing my limit already.
Carlisle kissed my temple, his arm sneaking around my waist. "I'll drive."
"Are you sure?" It was a little late to be asking.
"Yeah, I'm okay," he promised. "Have fun with your brother."
Eleazar cheered, slapping him on the shoulder harder than I appreciated. "I knew I liked you."
My brother and I had stayed in the kitchen well into the afternoon while the kids were in the other room. An hour and a half had passed by the time I realised Carlisle had wandered off, bored and no longer in the kitchen. A little nervous, I shuffled my way through the kids - mostly adored with fairy wings and petaled dresses, as he'd anticipated - in search of him. Eleazar trailed me, still half engaged in conversation as I tried to simultaneously focus on him and finding Carlisle.
I couldn't have been happier when I did. Sitting on the floor across from one of the other parents, he was scribbling at the kids table, Kate wedged between him and another kid while they drew. They each had a plastic teacup and saucer next to them - the tea party portion of this, obviously - and he patiently thanked another child as she served him a plastic sandwich.
I couldn't wipe the smile off my face. The alcohol certainly didn't help.
"What's wrong with you?" my brother grumbled when I hesitated too long.
I tried to swallow away the butterflies in my chest, the overwhelming warmth that suddenly lodged a lump in my throat. "I just- I want to spend the rest of my life with him." I wanted to marry him. Get married married, not married so he didn't have to leave. I wanted to buy a house with him. A home that we'd be able to raise our children in. Where I'd be able to cook for our family and he'd have uninterrupted space to sink himself into artwork. Where we could bicker about what colour we'd paint the walls, and I'd ultimately give in to his vision after pretending to be a hard sell. Where we'd celebrate anniversary after anniversary until we grew old together, watching endless sunsets on our porch, wine in hand.
"He's…you two have fixed things?" he asked carefully.
"Yeah; things have been really good. I love him so much, El."
"Good. Gross."
.
.
We drank well into the evening once the children went home. Having just my family around was far more comfortable, and the few of Eleazar's friends that joined us were nice enough as we all sat around the kitchen table. My sister in-law had put the kids to bed already, the TV providing a quiet ambiance while we laughed and spilled liquor on the tabletop. My husband wouldn't take anything other than soda despite Carmen's offers for us to stay with them overnight, tucked against my side for most of the evening, giggling with her over something I'd missed in the state I'd gotten myself into. No one seemed to bat an eye at my hands on him once it became too difficult to behave myself.
I grabbed his hand during the next lull in conversation, pulling him into the hallway behind me. "Are you sure you're alright to drive? You really don't want a drink?"
"I promise I'm fine, Garrett. Just relax." Catching the collar of my shirt, he pulled me down for a quick kiss, his lips lingering against mine long enough that I considered insisting that we leave right away. He didn't let me get that far, nudging me back toward the noise of the others.
Eleazar was wearing his daughter's pink party hat, the feathery trim around the rim of it too small for his head, the elastic digging into his cheeks as he laughed at his friends, all too happy to let them take pictures to mark the occasion. My mother was shaking her head, offering Carlisle a drink as she guided him away from them - away from me, El taking the opportunity to drag me into his assery. At least these were the only photos of me that had been taken the entire night.
I had the sudden urge to tell all of them that we'd gotten married - even if I was a little too far gone, so were the rest of them, and I still hadn't announced it to my family. My parents were here, and Alistair already knew, so it seemed fitting. It was only more shouting and clapping, a drunken rendition of 'Happy birthday', that shut me up.
.
.
It was 3AM by the time we got home. Carlisle made me sit on the couch and eat a sandwich before he'd let me go to bed. My complaints fell on deaf ears while he brought me a glass of water, stopping me prematurely stripping off my clothes in the living room with the curtains open. "Are you treating the neighbours to a show, Garrett? I know we're moving, but that's a little much as a leaving present." He quickly dragged the curtains across the rails before I pulled my shirt over my head.
"They should be so lucky," I slurred at him. I shut my eyes, leaning my neck back against the couch. It was definitely time for bed. This felt comfortable enough though.
He wasn't having it. "Hey. Drink the water."
"You drink the water," I shot back.
"I'm not the one about to be hung over. Drink the water, and go to bed," he mothered. He took the TV remote off of me when I picked it up, denying the distraction, and sat down on the coffee table in front of me to pass me the cup again. "Drink, please."
"Yes, Sir." The swallow I took was too big, barely resisting being regurgitated and leaving me spluttering, worse when the choking was unexplainably funny.
The glass was snatched out of my hands as soon as it was empty. He held out his hand to me, rolling his eyes when I shook it. "Can you stand up? Let's go to bed."
I tried to do what he'd asked. I only off balanced him when I attempted to use his weight to lever myself up, the room swirling dizzily around me the second I put pressure through my feet. He clearly didn't find it as entertaining as I did, my cackling only getting a sigh in response.
"You remember how to walk, right?" He just supervised as I slouched down in my seat, fumbling with my belt until I got it undone and kicked my pants off, tossing them onto the floor with my shirt and jacket.
"I'm comfy here." I was still chuckling to myself when he disappeared down the hallway, dimming the lights when he came back in, blanket and pillow in hand.
"Fine, but don't complain in the morning when your back hurts, old man." He worked around my unhelpful attempts to smooth the blanket over myself, jamming the pillow under my head as I flopped sideways to lie down. "And Alistair will be here at 9am, so you can explain to him why you're asleep there in your underwear."
"He might like what he sees," I teased him.
"Well, tell him he can look but he can't touch. Go to sleep, Garrett." The light shut off completely, leaving us in near total darkness, aside from the bedroom light filtering down the hallway.
"You won't stay out here with me?" I complained.
"No chance in hell, Gar."
"Not even a goodnight kiss, husband?"
I grinned into the blackness as I heard him come back to me, his lips soft against mine, until I tangled a hand in his hair and pulled him closer.
That was the end of it - he pulled free of me. "Goodnight. For the love of god, go to sleep."
"Love you," I yelled after him down the hallway, tugging the blanket up over myself. As it always did, his response made me warm all over.
.
.