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Their house was dark, except for a small bathroom light under the cupboard. The warm yellow colour filling the room just enough to see, but not enough to fully wake anyone up.
It was about two in the morning, maybe closer to three. Mariona had stopped checking the clock after the third wake-up.
Mateo wasn’t sleeping for any long stretches through the night; he hadn’t done so since he was born six weeks prior.
Lia had fed him barely twenty minutes earlier before he’d woken up again, wailing. She was so exhausted that she had almost fallen asleep sitting upright against their headboard while holding him.
Mariona had taken one look at Lia’s heavy eyes and reached immediately for their inconsolable boy.
“I’ve got him,” she’d whispered in the dark.
And now, here they sat, quietly in the bathtub together. Mariona, in her glasses, with her hair pulled into a loose bun, and Mateo resting softly against her bare chest.
The water was only half full, warm but not too warm, gently rippling around them whenever Mariona shifted slightly too heavily.
Mateo loved the bath.
From the very first time, he had melted into it completely - the warmth, the tranquillity, the sound of the water. It all soothed something in him, and that night was no different.
He lay sprawled sleepily against Mariona, so tiny and impossibly warm, his mouth wide open, cheek resting just beneath her collarbone. One of her hands supported him securely beneath the water, the other moved a warm, wet flannel slowly over his back every minute or so, keeping him warm.
“Hola, petit…” she uttered softly.
Mateo made a tiny sound in response, not quite awake but never fully asleep.
Mariona smiled faintly to herself.
His already thick brown hair was damp and darker when wet; it flattened softly against his head. His eyelashes rested softly against his cheeks, already absurdly long.
She couldn’t stop looking at him. Couldn’t stop touching him either.
Her fingers drifted down one of his legs slowly until they reached his dangling foot beneath the water. She traced lightly along the bottom of it with her fingertip.
Instantly, his toes flexed and scrunched at the touch.
Mariona let out a soft, breathy laugh.
“There they are,” she murmured.
She did it again, gentler this time, watching his little foot curl instinctively around nothing as she pulled her finger away.
It was so fascinating. His little movements, his little sounds. The way he seemed so impossibly fragile yet strangely strong at the same time. How Lia had created something, well, someone so precious, and now Mariona got to see him grow up for the rest of his life. It was special, all their babies were.
Mateo shifted slightly against her chest, a sleepy grumble slipping from his mouth before he settled again.
“Shhhh…” Mariona muttered automatically, her hand settling on his back on top of the warm flannel. “Està bé petit…”
The water lapped lazily around them as outside the bathroom remained completely still. The girls were long asleep; she hoped Lia was too.
They’d both been running on empty for the past six weeks. Her mother had helped immensely, taking the girls for a few hours every weekend to give them time to rest. They took turns napping as Mateo slept. Mariona had jokingly suggested one time that they should decide who by using ‘piedra, papel o tijera’; however, unsurprisingly, it had gone down like a lead balloon.
She tilted her head down slightly, pressing a slow kiss to the top of Mateo’s damp hair.
“El nostre petit mussol,” she murmured, smiling tiredly.
She was exhausted down to her bones. They both were. It was the kind of exhaustion that made time blur together - every feed, every change, the laundry, all of that, whilst trying to remember the last time they had properly eaten.
And yet-
They had never been happier… their family was complete.
Her fingers returned to Mateo’s tiny foot again, tracing gently over each little toe one by one beneath the water. Counting them, making sure they were still there.
The warm water moved softly around them when she adjusted slightly against the back of the bathtub. Mateo instinctively pressed closer into her chest at the movement, his tiny body seeking warmth even in sleep.
Immediately, her hand tightened protectively around him.
“No passa res… no passa res… la mama és aquí,” she uttered into his hair.
She looked down at him again, her chest tightening with love.
He was their last baby, still so new, fitting perfectly on her chest. One day she would ache for this stage and these moments again - the sleepy noises, tiny movements, these little feet curling around her finger. Even now, in the sheer exhaustion, she already knew she would miss it.
Mateo stirred faintly again, mouth opening slightly as he searched instinctively in his sleep.
Mariona smiled softly.
“No hi ha res aquí, amor meu,” she whispered teasingly.
He responded with another sleepy grumble.
“Sorry.”
She reached for the flannel again, pouring warm water gently over his back before laying it back across him carefully.
The water soothed him in a way little else did.
Sometimes on particularly difficult nights, Lia would find them exactly like this - Mariona half-submerged in the bath, Mateo asleep against her chest whilst she sat there in the soft light from underneath the cupboard.
For now, though, they were completely alone.
Even when the water had begun cooling around them, Mariona kept topping it up with careful movements, never wanting to disturb the little weight on her chest.
He looked so peaceful. One tiny fist tucked near his face, his lips parted softly, every breath warm against her skin.
Mariona’s fingers moved slowly along his back beneath the wet flannel now.
Soon, he wouldn’t fit against her like this anymore. Soon, bath time would become loud and chaotic, full of splashing and water sprayed across the floor. There would be yoghurt smeared through his hair, sticky fingers covered in jam, and spaghetti somehow ending up anywhere but his mouth. Soon, he’d wriggle away when she pulled him closer and wiped away her kisses, but right now, he was here, and it was beautiful. It was more than she could have dreamed of.
Her index finger drifted slowly across Mateo’s cheek; her touch was featherlight. Soft strokes, back and forth, barely touching him.
He twitched faintly, his eye crinkling; she knew he could feel her.
She smiled instantly.
God. She loved him so much, she loved all of them like that, like she could burst. But something about him had cracked open an even deeper, tender place inside her entirely. Maybe it was because he was the last, maybe it was because he gave her these moments, or maybe it was because every time she looked at him, she thought of her Father.
Thoughts of him had crept up on her unexpectedly a lot more lately. Not always painfully, sometimes it was warm and fond. Sometimes it came so suddenly that it stole the breath from her lungs. She felt him constantly, in everything she did.
He would have adored Maya and Sofía - their chaos, their confidence, the way they climbed over everyone they loved. They would’ve been spoiled endlessly in gifts, in time, in moments.
Maya would’ve had him wrapped around her finger within minutes, and Sofía, with her determination and stubborn moods - he would’ve found such joy in playfully messing with her. But Mateo, Mateo Miquel, he carried his name. A quiet tribute. A tribute that made her mother cry the first time she heard.
Her finger drifted slowly over Mateo’s cheek again, smoothing softly along the warm skin.
“Ell t’hauria estimat molt,” she whispered quietly into the room.
Mateo sighed in his sleep, completely unaware.
Mariona smiled, a bit of sadness creeping in.
Her Father would’ve doted on all three of them. She wished she could have seen him as a grandfather. She wished he could’ve seen her as a mother.
He would’ve carried the girls around the island, showing them off to anyone who asked. Would’ve taught Mateo ridiculous things far too early just to annoy Lia and Mariona equally, but he would get away with it because he’s her father.
The thought of that made her laugh softly under her breath.
“Hauria estat ben pesat,” she murmured.
But God, she wished he were here for it.
Even just for a few minutes.
Just to see this life she and Lia had built together, to see her happy, even without football.
Mariona’s eyes lingered on Mateo quietly.
“Duus el seu nom. Espero que tenguis el seu cor també.”
Her reading glasses slipped slightly lower on her nose as she watched him.
Lia always laughed at her glasses. She said they made her look more professional than she was. But tonight they looked anything but; they sat crooked on her face with steam gathering on the lenses.
“En tres o quatre hores, les teves germanes vendran fent renou,” she informed him quietly, “Coneixent na Maya… potser encara menys.”
Mateo made another sleepy sigh, right on cue.
“No tens cap possibilitat de tenir pau en aquesta família,” she continued softly, “però tens possibilitats de ser brillant en l’esport… així que una cosa per l’altra.”
The words wrapped warmly around her chest.
Family.
Even now, after five years of marriage and three children, the weight of it still caught her off guard. It felt too much like something she never really knew for sure would happen, but now she had it, she never wanted to lose it. Not this version of it anyway. It had created so much joy in her life.
Thinking of herself at sixteen, so different from her friends. Not interested in boys, well, only if she could play against them, not interested in the partying, it was all football. At twenty-six, it was still all about football, maybe even more than before. Everything then was about trophies and winning with Barcelona. Little did she know, a year later, at twenty-seven, she would meet Lia, and that’s where this rollercoaster of life would truly begin.
Now, still in the midst of this rollercoaster, she sat in a warm bath at three in the morning with her son asleep on her, whilst her wife and daughters slept upstairs.
Her wife.
That word still softened her every single time.
She adored her… every inch, from the very first day. It was impossible not to.
Her mother had called her crazy, a girl who lived 1500km away, who didn’t even speak Spanish. She’d questioned how Mariona could even possibly fall in love with someone she barely understood. Mariona didn’t know how either, but she knew she did.
“La teva mama és extraordinària, saps?” she spoke into Mateo’s hair as she placed a kiss on his head, “Us va dur als tres… i encara em suporta.”
Mateo continued to sleep.
Mariona appreciated his quiet.
“És una dona increïble… però amb un criteri terrible.”
Eventually, Mariona knew she had to get out before the water cooled completely, and Lia would kill her for the water bill if she kept topping it up.
So, as carefully as if he were made out of glass, she shifted upright with Mateo still tucked against her. Water streamed softly down both of them as she reached for the towel she’d left nearby earlier.
Mateo stirred immediately at the change in temperature and position.
A tiny fuss, a wriggle.
“Shhh, ja està…” Mariona whispered instantly, pressing him closer as she wrapped the towel around his small body for warmth before loosely securing her own around her waist.
His face scrunched briefly, his little lip trembling in threat before she began to sway gently on instinct.
“Ja està… ja està.”
The fussing soon quieted into sleepy grumbles.
Mariona smiled softly to herself.
“Quin drama,” she murmured.
The bathroom light under the cupboards remained dim and warm as she laid him down carefully on a changing mat. He blinked up at her sleepily, still half-dreaming, his tiny limbs curled close to his body from the warmth of the bath.
God, he was small.
Mariona dried him slowly, deliberately. Every part of him, she handled with impossible gentleness. She moved the towel softly over his stomach, his tiny legs, between the little folds of his wrists and neck. She lifted each arm carefully, whispering little apologies whenever he fussed at the cold air on his damp skin.
“Ja ho sé, amor meu.”
Mateo let out another sleepy complaint.
“Quina vida més dura…” she chuckled to herself.
She fastened a clean nappy carefully beneath him before reaching for his sleep sack that was folded nearby - it was white cotton with tiny pale blue and pink stars scattered across it. Both girls had worn it too when they were his size.
Mariona eased his little legs through first, then his arms, her fingers careful and patient even while exhaustion pulled heavily on her own body.
Mateo blinked tiredly up at her, still sleepy from the bath, his tiny mouth opening and closing once before settling.
Mariona smiled so softly it almost hurt.
“El meu àngel,” she uttered.
She lifted him back into her arms carefully once she herself had pulled a sleep shirt on. She settled him high against her shoulder. His cheek pressed into the warmth of her skin, body heavy with sleep.
The house stayed silent as she carried him across the hallway. Only the light shuffle of her feet across the hardwood floors could be heard.
The bedroom door stood already slightly open, it was how she’d left it an hour or so earlier.
Mariona stepped inside quietly.
Lia was asleep, or at least dozing; she would no doubt wake up soon at their entry. She was curled on her side, beneath the blankets, her hair spread messily across both their pillows, one arm tucked under her cheek.
Mariona loved her so much.
The bedside bassinet sat beside her side of the bed, close enough for her to reach him quickly to feed him throughout the night.
Mariona leaned over carefully and lowered Mateo into it slowly, one hand remaining against his chest for several extra seconds after his body sank into the mattress.
He stirred faintly at first, as expected. His mouth twitched. She reached down to brush a parting finger gently across his cheek. He was settled, for now.
“He’ll be awake for milk within two hours,” she whispered quietly into the darkness.
It would probably be less.
She glanced one more time over at him, his tiny shape in the bassinet, before finally getting to turn to bed herself. Every part of her ached with tiredness as she slid beneath the blankets onto her side of the mattress.
As soon as she settled, Lia moved toward her. She was still half asleep, unconscious enough to not be fully awake but awake enough to know and seek her out anyway. Lia shifted closer until her head found its usual spot against Mariona’s chest, tucked in a familiar spot between her collarbone and jaw.
Mariona’s body softened immediately. Without thinking, she wrapped an arm around Lia’s shoulders beneath the blankets and lowered her head to kiss the top of her hair. It was long and lingering.
Lia made a faint, sleepy sound at the contact.
“You okay?” her words slurred with drowsiness.
“Mmm,” she uttered back. “He loved the bath.”
Lia hummed.
“He always does, especially with you.”
Silence settled again.
Mariona’s fingers drifted slowly along one of Lia’s arms. Back and forth, soft touches. Lia pressed closer as she did it, one of her own hands resting lightly against Mariona’s ribs beneath her shirt.
For a while, neither of them spoke. They just breathed together in the dark. It was peaceful.
“I love you,” Mariona broke the silence a minute or so later, lowering her head to press another gentle kiss into Lia’s hair.
“Love you too…”
Her reply came as they both drifted off properly, tangled together in the purest form of love.
It couldn’t have been more than two hours later when Mateo began to stir again in his bassinet. It was as if on cue, right as Mariona had expected.
A small rustle beside the bed. A sleepy, bird-like little squeak, followed by the faint sound of him trying to turn his head against the mattress.
Lia heard it straight away, pure motherly instincts. Her eyes opened before she was even fully conscious, her body responding long before her brain could even catch up.
She turned immediately toward the bassinet. In the dim glow of the night, she could just about make out his tiny movements - mouth puckering slightly, little fists beginning to flex open beside his face.
“Oh, hello, my little love,” she whispered softly.
She reached one hand carefully out towards him, his tiny hand wrapping around one of her fingers with impressive levels of strength.
“There you are,” she smiled, though he couldn’t see.
Mateo settled again, seemingly soothed by Lia’s contact and the sound of her voice alone.
“So needy,” she murmured affectionately, her thumb brushing lightly over the back of his hand.
Besides them, Mariona shifted and stirred faintly at the sound of Lia’s voice, but she didn’t fully wake yet.
The room stayed quiet except for Mateo’s soft but persistent baby snuffles.
“Okay, okay,” Lia huffed, a soft laugh escaping her lips. “I know what you actually want.”
Carefully, trying not to disturb Mariona too much, she pushed herself upright against the headboard. A position she’d become familiar with over the last six weeks. Every movement reminded her that her body was still healing. Tenderness and aches lingered in places she’d forgotten were even there.
She lifted Mateo from the bassinet and settled him against her chest. His tiny body softened immediately at the warmth, instantly calming. She adjusted her shirt slightly before guiding him to feed.
The room fell quiet again, except for the soft sounds of him feeding.
Lia leaned her head back against the headboard with a tired exhale through her nose. Her tired eyes slipped closed briefly.
Across the bed, Mariona stirred properly this time. Eyes still shut, she moved towards them, drawn by the familiar nightly sounds.
Her hair was completely falling out of its little bun, her glasses now abandoned somewhere on her bedside table in front of a clock that displayed an ungodly hour. She blinked slowly in the dim light before settling close against Lia’s thigh.
Without a word, she leaned closer and pressed a gentle kiss there. It was tender, lingering.
Lia opened one eye, glancing down at her with a smile.
“Sleep,” she uttered softly.
Mariona smiled against her skin.
“And miss out on this party?” she murmured back in the darkness.
Lia huffed out a quiet laugh, eyes closing once more.
Mariona shifted up a little more, her fingers finding Mateo’s feet covered by his sleep sack.
“Nowhere I’d rather be,” she grinned.
The words settled deep for Lia. She loved Mariona. She loved them, this version of them especially - tired and messy and stripped bare in the name of parenthood. Just the raw intimacy of building a life together, one exhausted night after another.
Lia’s fingers drifted automatically into Mariona’s hair, smoothing gently through the messy, damp strands that’d escaped her bun.
“You’re very romantic for five in the morning,” she murmured quietly.
Mariona smiled faintly without lifting her head.
“Delirious,” she corrected.
Lia laughed softly again, careful not to jostle Mateo.
The baby made a small contented sound against her chest, his tiny fingers flexing briefly before closing again against Lia’s collarbone.
Both pairs of eyes snapped down to look at him.
“So little,” Mariona’s hand drifted lightly along Mateo’s back, barely touching him.
“If he keeps eating like this, he won’t be for long,” Lia huffed.
“Strong Mallorcan boy.”
“Obviously.”
Another small silence settled over them.
Outside, their little island remained completely dark and still in the early March morning. Spring was beginning to peek through in the village, the trees were starting to come back to life, some flowers were popping up, and traces of summer would soon be there too.
Ready for long days under the sun on the beach with Maya and Sofía crashing through the waves, or Mateo’s inevitable first taste of their garden pool. Summer was their season.
Lia leaned her head lightly against Mariona’s shoulder for a moment, eyes still half closed, while Mateo continued feeding sleepily.
“You know,” she uttered quietly, “this part is kind of nice.”
Mariona tilted her head in question.
“Sleep deprivation?”
“No,” Lia laughed, “the quiet, just being awake while everyone else is asleep.”
Mariona hummed quietly in agreement.
It did feel special, almost sacred. These nighttime hours where the world narrowed into soft breathing, quiet conversations and a tiny baby tucked safely between them both.
Mariona pressed an absentminded kiss to Lia’s head.
“You’re beautiful,” she whispered.
Lia opened her eyes, just for the chance to roll them despite a smile tugging at her mouth.
“I mean it,” she murmured softly.
And she did, Lia sitting there in the dark, feeding their son, looked more beautiful to Mariona than almost anything else she could possibly imagine. Soft and warm. In the most complete maternal way that still made her smile at the thought, even after three children.
Lia noticed the look on her face and shook her head faintly, amused.
“You’re so obsessed with me.”
“And?”
“Embarrassing.”
“Never.”
Lia smiled tiredly and leaned down to kiss the top of Mateo’s head. Then, after a second, she tilted her head toward Mariona too. She met her halfway. The kiss was delicate and brief, just enough.
When they pulled apart, Mateo had already begun slowing against Lia’s chest, drifting back toward sleep - the one thing he gave nobody else.
Mariona stayed tucked close against Lia, one arm draped loosely across her, her fingers tracing soft little patterns against Lia’s skin.
Considering how tired they were, neither of them seemed in any rush to go back to sleep. Not even despite the fact that Maya could be in with them within the next hour. The shared exhaustion of consciousness was too soft and too intimate to wish away so quickly.
Mariona stared down at Mateo for a moment. Asleep now, his body lay limp in Lia’s arms, his little breaths evening out as he fell deeper into the peaceful depths of sleep.
Lia placed him down on the mattress between them and their pillows, adjusting his sleep sack around him before she settled down under the covers again. He’d be fine there for an hour or so before Maya burst in; they wouldn’t sleep deeply enough to have to worry.
Mariona snuggled close, curling in beside him with a protective hand placed on his stomach.
“One day we’re going to sleep through the night again,” Lia sighed. “Which is crazy.”
Mariona smiled sleepily opposite.
“It sounds too good to be true.”
“Imagine it…” Lia grinned. “Sleeping. For eight hours… every night!”
Mariona let out a quiet hum of amusement.
“Come on… not every night,” she responded, voice low with a teasing smirk hidden in the darkness.
Lia rolled her eyes fondly, a small smile painting her face.
“Okay,” she laughed in agreement. “Not every night.”
Mateo made a small sleepy sound between them, and both of them instantly glanced toward him before almost sighing in relief when he stayed asleep.
The teasing comments faded after that. It softened into something deeper.
“You’re very beautiful at night,” Mariona brushed a strand of hair gently behind Lia’s ear.
Lia snorted softly.
“You can’t see me,” she laughed. “I look like I’ve been hit by a truck.”
“You look like the mother of my children.”
The words settled warmly, Lia’s smile softened.
“You always say that.”
“Because it’s true, and I will never stop bragging about it.”
Mariona’s thumb brushed lightly along Lia’s jawline.
“I think watching you become a mother completely rewired my brain.”
Her words were so matter-of-fact.
Lia ducked her head slightly; it still made her shy when Mariona spoke like this. Such open affection and warmth in her words, even in her second language, it was the Spaniard in her.
“Stop,” Lia whispered.
“Never,” Mariona whispered back, reaching to kiss her.
Lia’s expression softened immediately as they pulled apart.
“I will miss this,” she admitted after a moment.
Mariona’s chest tightened; she knew what she meant.
“Me too,” she smiled reverently.
Lia reached for Mariona’s hand beneath the blankets.
“It’s special… being up with you like this.”
Nobody in the world got to see them like this, and they never would. This was them, raw and completely unfiltered, and it was the best.
“You’re my favourite,” Lia uttered.
That nearly undid Mariona entirely.
She lifted her hand to cup Lia’s face gently and kissed her slowly. Like she was trying to pour every ounce of the love she felt into something tangible.
“You’re mine too,” she rested their foreheads together.
And she meant that. Because, yes, she’d loved football, she’d loved playing, she’d loved the crowds. But this was everything, the life they had built together, and the little people in it were the centre of her universe. The quiet intimacy, the trust, and the love fulfilled her in ways that football never could.
Mariona kissed her again, unable to resist in their close proximity.
“You’re everything,” she breathed quietly afterwards against her lips.
There was so much raw honesty with Mariona. She was almost always unguarded; sometimes humour toned it down, but it was always there.
Lia reached up slowly, brushing loose strands back from Mariona’s face.
“You adore me,” she whispered teasingly.
Mariona smiled.
“Violently so.”
Lia laughed softly, trying not to disturb Mateo next to them.
Mariona felt full of love to the point of ache. She lowered her head slowly, finding a spot in Lia’s neck.
“I hope we get to do this together in every life,” she smiled. “Every life… every universe… with you.”
Her fingers drifted slowly across Lia’s back beneath the blankets.
“Something tells me this one will go too fast,” she added softly.
Lia swallowed.
She felt it too. Time slipping away from them, like a thief.
One moment, Maya had been this tiny curled thing sleeping between them. Now she was all wild curls and toothy grins, creeping ever closer to her fourth birthday. Soon she’d be in school, and she’d have endless questions about the universe; there would be math homework with problems they definitely didn’t know how to answer.
Sofía was no longer a baby either, almost 18 months old. Still so dependent on them, yet so big. Her milestones were flying by in the blink of an eye. Every day, she said a new word, decided she hated a new vegetable, and she was stubborn beyond belief.
And Mateo, he had already changed so much in his mere six weeks on Earth.
Lia held Mariona even closer.
“It already is,” she smiled reverently.
Mariona’s arm tightened around her immediately.
“One day our house is going to be so quiet,” she muttered.
Lia frowned at the thought.
“Don’t say things like that.”
Mariona laughed softly, placing another kiss on her neck.
It was true. One day, there would be no bassinet beside the bed. No little cries through the baby monitor. No little feet stomping their way into the bedroom at the first glimpse of sunlight. The children wouldn’t be small enough to be carried to bed half-asleep anymore. And while that future would bring beautiful things too, it still felt bittersweet to imagine.
They bickered sometimes. Got tired. Snapped at each other over little things like the dishes or whose turn it was to deal with Sofía refusing trousers for the third day in a row, but underneath it all, there was deep, unwavering love. And it was all they’d ever wanted.
“Luckily, I think every version of me would still be every bit obsessed with every version of you, so we’ll get plenty of time together.”
Lia shook her head at the ridiculousness of the statement.
“You say such insane things so casually.”
“You married me.”
“Bad judgement on my part.”
Mariona laughed at her.
“You know what I think?” she pulled back to look at Lia now, her gaze drifting across her face in the low light.
“What?” Lia replied.
“I think even when we’re old and annoying, and you’re yelling at me because you can’t find your glasses that are actually on your head…”
Lia smiled already, knowing something unbearably soft was coming.
“... I’ll still look at you and think you’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”
Lia let out a laugh immediately, ducking her head slightly against Mariona’s chest.
“You’re so Spanish sometimes.”
Mariona grinned without even a hint of shame.
“Extremely so,” she agreed.
“The dramatics.”
“The romance,” Mariona corrected.
“The intensity.”
“Again, romance.”
Lia laughed softly through her nose, still careful not to disturb Mateo’s sleep.
Mariona watched her laugh with that same helpless expression as always. Even after all these years, she still couldn’t quite believe she got to be the reason for it.
There was a pause before Lia spoke again.
“You really think I’ll still be pretty when I’m eighty?” she raised an eyebrow.
Mariona looked genuinely offended by the question.
“Amor,” she whispered softly, “I think you’ll still make me nervous when we’re eighty.”
Lia laughed, quieter this time.
“You’re insane.”
“No, this is insane,” Mariona murmured, eyes looking directly into Lia’s. “I still look at you and forget what I was saying sometimes.”
“You absolutely do not.”
“I do.”
“You’re lying.”
Mariona smiled faintly.
“You underestimate how deeply obsessed I am with you.”
Lia shook her head fondly, warmth spreading visibly across her face.
Mariona adored her so openly, without question. She showed it so easily, so constantly, like breathing. Even now, at five in the morning, with the baby between them, she looked at Lia like she had personally hung the stars and moon in the sky above them.
“You know what’s actually going to happen when we’re old?”
Mariona reached up then, brushing her thumb gently under Lia’s eye.
“What?” Lia settled as if she were about to tell a story.
“You’ll still pretend you don’t like compliments.”
“I don’t.”
“You’re a liar.”
Lia smiled into the darkness, knowing.
“And you’ll still flirt with me in completely inappropriate situations.”
Mariona thought about it seriously for approximately one second.
“Absolutely.”
Lia laughed again.
“You’re impossible.”
“And yet so deeply lovable.”
“Mmm. Debatable.”
Mariona leaned down immediately and kissed her forehead, then her cheek and then the corner of her mouth. Little affectionate touches scattered everywhere because she genuinely couldn’t seem to help herself.
“Never debatable,” she whispered softly.
The room settled quietly again for a moment. Warm, sleep-heavy, just held in each other's arms. Mariona’s fingers continued their lazy movements along Lia’s back while Lia rested comfortably against her.
“When we’re old,” Mariona murmured quietly, “I hope we still do this.”
Lia tilted her head slightly.
“What? Stay awake at five in the morning?”
Mariona huffed a laugh.
“No.” She smiled softly. “Love each other like this.”
Something in Lia’s chest tightened painfully at the sincerity in her voice, because Mariona loved her so earnestly. It was love without restraint and without any embarrassment. Like she’d decided long ago that Lia was the greatest thing to ever happen to her and that there was no point in trying to hide it.
Lia reached up slowly, her fingers brushing gently along Mariona’s jaw.
“You make it very easy,” she vowed.
Mariona’s expression softened into something almost unbearably tender.
Then, unable not to, she leaned down and kissed Lia again.
Slow.
Warm.
Sleepy.
Completely in love.