Chapter Text
“Daddy, let’s gooooo!” Beckett called, tugging at Conrad’s hand.
I wiped my hands on a towel, still chopping vegetables as I watched them. Conrad bent to scoop Beckett up while Cocoa jumped at his legs, tail wagging, already at the park in her mind.
“Hold on, buddy,” he said, grinning.
“Take a raincoat,” I told him, touching his arm lightly. “It might rain.”
Conrad glanced at me before leaning in to kiss me. Quick. Soft. Easy. Beckett squirmed in his arms, impatient, Cocoa barked at the back door.
“No, it’s fine…” he started. He was stopped by my skeptical look. He just smiled and leaned in again, pressing a second kiss to my cheek. “I’ll grab his on the way out. We’ll be back in about forty-five minutes.”
“See you soon,” I said, smiling, already turning back to the counter. The door opened, then shut in a rush of noise, Beckett explaining the things they would do at the playground, Cocoa barking, Conrad’s voice trailing after them. And then it was quiet. I turned on some music, something light and familiar, and let myself move with it as I cooked, stirring, chopping, tasting. The kitchen felt warm and cozy. A few minutes later, it hit me. The kiss. Just a simple kiss. No hesitation, no second-guessing, no careful distance. No wondering if we were doing it right or ready for it. Just… us. Part of the day. Part of our life. Our life. I stilled for a second, wooden spoon in hand, the realization settling in. This was a life I knew, not from before, not from a memory, but from now. And a life, with a certainty that didn’t surprised me, I would choose. Again and again.
They came back twenty minutes later, rain dripping from their coats, Cocoa shaking herself off in the entryway. “Okay,” Conrad said, pushing damp hair back from his forehead, “you were right.”
“Of course I was,” I smiled, grabbing a towel and stepping toward him. I reached up, brushing the rain from his face, my fingers lingering just a second longer than they needed to. His eyes caught mine. “But I like the look,” I added softly. “I always did like you with wet hair.”
I leaned in and kissed him. Firmer, slower, and deliberate in a way the earlier kiss wasn’t. His hand came up, instinctively settling at my waist pulling me closer. It was the kind of touch that might turn into more if not for…
“Mommy! Mommy! Mommy! My boot is stuck!” Beckett’s voice cut through the moment. Conrad huffed a quiet laugh, his hand slipping away.
“Let’s get it unstuck then,” he turned to help Beckett. The dog was dripping on the floor, Beckett was hopping on one foot, dinner was still on the stove, maybe burning but things felt right just as they were.
---
The rain made for a cool August night, and when I came down after getting Beckett to sleep, I found Conrad had started a fire in the fireplace. The room flickered warm. He was on the floor, cleaning up the tornado of toys Beckett had left behind.
“You should have had him clean those up,” I said, stepping into the room. “You’re too soft-hearted when it comes to him.” I knelt down beside him, gathering a scattering of stuffed animals, brushing them into a bin. Our shoulders bumped lightly. “But,” I added, glancing at him, “you are a good dad.”
“Yeah?” He looked over at me, closer than I expected. “Does that surprise you?”
“No… not really.” I leaned back on my heels, facing him now. The firelight caught in his eyes, softened the edges of him. “You always cared a lot about the people you loved. You used to have a hard time showing it. And saying it. And asking for help. And—”
“I surrender.” He held up his hands, laughing under his breath. “Can we just agree I used to be an asshole?”
“No.” I shifted closer on my knees without thinking, closing the space between us until we were only inches apart. Close enough to feel the warmth of him, even over the heat of the fire. “I won’t agree to that.” My voice softened, but I didn’t pull back. “You were just a stupid kid. Hung up on what you thought was right. Stuck in your own head. But you grew up.”
“God…” He smiled. His hand came to my arm, fingers brushing lightly at first, then settling. “You really are a psychologist sometimes.”
“I don’t know about that.” I laughed quietly. “I think I just know you.”
His hand shifted, fingers dragging slowly along the inside of my arm. The kind of touch that wasn’t accidental at all. The room felt smaller. Warmer. His eyes dropped to my mouth for half a second before coming back up.
“Yeah…you do,” he said, quieter now. He leaned in. Not all the way, close enough to feel his breath, the heat of it against my lips. He waited for me. I didn’t hesitate, I leaned in closing the gap. His hand slid from my arm to my waist, pulling me that last inch in and against him. The kiss wasn’t rushed. It was warm and familiar. We pulled back for a breath but even that was slow. Neither of us going far. His forehead hovered near mine, breath uneven but quiet.
“I’m sorry.” It slipped out. It had been a thing on my mind for a while now.
“Why?” He looked at me, brows furrowed, puzzled.
“That it took me so long to get it.”
He sat back but his hand stays on my waist, the other still in my hair. “Get what?”
I brush my fingertips along his jaw. “That you…loving you…it’s not a thing to be scared of.”
When we kissed again, it wasn’t careful. His hand at my waist tightened, pulling me onto his lap and I had to place a hand against his shoulder to keep my balance. The angle changed, the kiss was deeper, messier. I felt it everywhere. The press of him, the heat of his hand under my t-shirt. His other hand came up into my hair pulling my mouth even harder against his. Not controlling but firm and steady. He pulled away just inches to look at me. He looked for a very long moment.
“You should tell me if you want to stop,” he said quietly.
“Why would I do that?” My hand on his cheek, I leaned in and kissed him softly before pulling him back onto the rug with me.
It wasn’t our first time, or even our hundredth but it somehow felt like both at the same time. How we moved together was familiar, like I’d never left it. And it was probably the first time I was very grateful that he knew more about me than I knew about myself. He knew exactly what I wanted. Where to touch me. How to move. How to make me beg for it…and then how to reward my pleas.
Like the first time, though, it was overwhelming after. I was glad we had waited until life around me felt steady. It wasn’t that I was uncertain or wanted to run. Not when it came to him. Not when it came to this. It was just that, I knew in that moment, I couldn’t. Not ever. Not because of Beckett or obligations or promises a past me had made but I just wouldn’t be able to do it. Not without falling apart. I had been frustrated when my mom and Taylor and Jeremiah had told me how obvious it was. When they told me I knew why I was here. But they were right. I know exactly why I’m here. And I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.
---
The next time I had a memory was October. I was standing in our bedroom, getting ready for a date night with Conrad. We were celebrating the end of a training class I’d just done. I’d decided to go back to my job, but I’d taken the fall term off to do some classes, to rebuild my confidence in counseling students.
“Do I have more necklaces somewhere?” I asked, glancing at the jewelry box on the dresser. “None of these are quite right.”
“Yeah.” Conrad’s sitting on the bed putting on socks, shirt open and unbuttoned. His hand slid along my back as I passed by. “Back of the third drawer. You’ve got some older stuff in there.”
“Thanks.” I catch his sleeve and lean down for a quick kiss. It turns out to be not so quick when he pulls me in to straddle his lap, his hands high enough on my thighs under my dress to pull me tight against him, mine on his shoulders under his shirt while I kiss him, biting his lip gently. The sound of a doorbell breaks our kiss and he pulls back. “Isabel…as much as I’d like to fuck you right now…Julie just knocked and if I don’t answer the door Beckett will be in here in about thirty seconds and I can’t be that fast baby” He shifts back, letting out a deep breath. “I’ll go let her in.”
“Okay.” I give him a quick kiss before I stand up, straightening my dress. He stands too, starting to button up his shirt. He kisses me one more time hard and quick, to confirm that we will finish this later before I help him button his shirt, ruffling his hair quickly before he goes to let the babysitter in.
After he leaves, I crouched down and pulled open the drawer in search of the necklaces. There was a box of old jewelry, chunky pieces, a little out of date. Behind it, is a light blue box, worn at the edges, French writing across the side. Inside were letters. Dozens of them. I recognized the handwriting immediately. Mine. And Conrad’s.
The room slipped. Paris. The feeling…Overwhelming, excited and terrified all at once. Being somewhere new, meeting new people, trying to find my footing. Then the first letter in my shaking hands. I don’t even know if I should be writing you…How it had made me feel scared and safe at the same time. Known. Like home existed somewhere, even across an ocean, if I was willing to grab it.
You’re pretty much all I think about. My twenty-second birthday. Heartbreaking, stupid and wonderful all in one. The moment I decided I was going to trust him with my heart. That I was going to choose him. Again. And again. And again.
When I come back to myself, sitting on the bedroom floor, I see in the bottom of the box under the letters is the infinity necklace I had been looking for earlier this summer. The chain is broken, midway down on one side.
Suddenly, I’m in Boston in winter seven years ago. The necklace is catching on my scarf, a sudden snap. The way I’d stood there, devastated over something so small and so significant all at once. How I’d gone to him with it, tears in my eyes, like it mattered more than it should. Like it was everything.
It broke. He hadn’t brushed it off. He’d just looked at me. Steady and certain. He’d said nothing, just left the room. I’d stood there, confused, holding the broken chain in my hands. He came back just minutes later. It’s when he gave me this ring. When he told me he had been planning to wait for Christmas to give it to me. He showed me the ring was engraved inside with our initials, the infinity symbol between them. In a very Conrad way, he told me about the history of wedding rings, that they are circles because they represent eternity, no beginning and no end. Just like infinity but better. Then he’d told me, There is no version of my life I want to go through without you in it forever. And I’d agreed with my whole heart.
I blinked back to the present, still sitting on the bedroom floor, the box in my lap. I picked up the necklace carefully, holding it in my palm, tears in the corners of my eyes. Downstairs, I could hear Conrad’s voice chatting with the babysitter. Beckett laughing. And I knew I would go forever around the curves of this life with him.
---
I eventually did get almost all my memories back. It took maybe another six months. Sometimes it was triggered by something someone would say, a smell, or rediscovering an old item. There were still gaps, but I remembered all the important things. The wedding I went through with, down to the anatomically correct heart ice sculpture and sparkly ballet flats. Moving into this house, six-months pregnant with Beckett, directing Conrad, my dad and Steven where everything needed to be placed and excitedly decorating the nursery together. Beckett being born, the long labor, the last minute c-section, and the wonder of holding him the first time. Beckett’s first real smile (and how we’d debated if it was gas before agreeing it wasn’t) and his first words (Momma, dog, Dada, no). How I liked helping the kids at my school but how I’d disliked paperwork then too. I remembered too that just before the accident, we’d started trying to give Beckett a sibling (a thing I very much wanted now again). And I remembered the little moments, seemingly meaningless and mundane, that had made our life together. It was nice to know where the extra towels and Christmas ornaments were, but it didn’t really matter. The past is just that. The future ahead was what mattered.