Page 50 of The Neighborly Thing To Do
She’s always been right there, even if we barely ever interacted before all this. But in a short amount of time, I don’t know what to do when she’s not around.
It’s a little scary to process that she can so easily navigate between worlds. A lot of supernaturals can with varying levels of accommodations, but Cassidy can just go. She fits in there as well as she does here. She doesn’t need this place like I do. I literally can’t leave, but she can.
It’s funny that she enjoys flying with me so much, when she’s the one who can spread her figurative wings and have the freedom to fly wherever she wants.
But she’s choosing to stay here. That’s literally what this has all been about, how she doesn’t want to leave. I remind myself of that, and my heart calms down. She’ll be home soon.
On the drive home, she texts me pictures of the fox installed at its new home, and tells me how much the old lady genuinely adores it, and I do appreciate hearing that. But I want her home.
My father leaves at his normal time, and I sit here pretending to get work done, but I’m much more absorbed in my phone than I am my drafting paper.
Finally,Tate pulls into our driveway, and Cassidy climbs out, turning to thank them before coming over to the workshop.
I like that she knows I’ll be here. And yes, sure, the lights are still on, so it’s pretty obvious. But I like that we have a routine now.
“Hi.” She stands in the doorway, looking around bashfully. I don’t know what’s gotten into her head, why she’s suddenly shy, but I sweep her up into my arms, hoping to squeeze it right out of her.
“Welcome home, wife.” It feels so fucking right to say that.Wife.Home.“How was your trip?”
“Productive. Got a ton of pictures, texted with G about her classes on the way home, you know.” She wiggles, but I don’t want her far away from me, so I carry her over to sit on the bench where I’ve been working. “How about yours?”
Much less productive, unless you count missing her as productivity. “It was fine,” I say. “It always takes a bit to transition from one project to the next.” A truth, even if it’s not the only reason there’s not much to show for today.
“I bet.” She looks around for a moment. “Any hint on what you’re starting next? People would love to see that online.”
“It’s sitting right underneath your pretty ass,” I tell her. It’s a rough sketch, and I didn’t mean to place her right on top of my work, but who can blame me? She’s much more interesting than work.
She slides off the bench, raising an eyebrow when she finds the slightly rumpled sketch. “Somehow I thought that was a come-on.”
“Do you want it to be one?” I am more than on board with that.
“Maybe later.” She turns the drawing to get a better angle, phone already in hand to capture some photos. But when she tugs the corner, she freezes. “Finn, what’s this?”
I have no idea, so I step closer, only to stop breathing when I see it.
It’s the sketch I did of her back when we first got married. “Oh. That.”
“Yeah, that.” She’s still staring at it, and she moves the new sketch out of the way so she can see it fully. “Finn, this is—”
“I didn’t think you’d like being made into a sculpture,” I say when she can’t find the words to explain what it is. “And I’m not sure I have the skill set to make you; you’re not my usual style. But you’re fucking gorgeous, baby, and I had to get it down on paper.” I glance at my rough sketch. It’s not perfect, and I wish for a second that I had the skills to make it capture everything I adore about her.
“This is how you see me?” she asks quietly, tilting her head to get a better view of the art.
I tilt her chin so she’s looking at me. She can have the sketch if she wants it, look at it all damned day if it shows her how perfect she is, but I want her to see how serious I am when I say this. “You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Inside and out, baby; I’m obsessed with every inch of you.”
Her eyes dart down and she’s quiet for a second, and I let her take that all in. Maybe I’m overstepping. We are married, butthat might be too close to real feelings for a relationship so new. Maybe—
She reaches into her pocket and takes something out, hidden inside her closed fist. “I picked these up today. Then I worried they were too much, maybe kind of stupid, but, well… here.” She opens her fist, revealing two gold bands to me.
Wedding bands. My heart is hammering in my throat. She bought uswedding bands.
“You’re fucking perfect, baby,” I breathe, unable to fully articulate what I’m feeling. I’m definitely falling in love with her. It’s too soon to say it, considering we only started our relationship a week ago, but it’s true anyway.
She bought us wedding bands. Surely, she’s feeling it, too.
“Not perfect,” she contradicts me. “And it might not fit, but…”
I take the ring from her that’s clearly meant for me and slip it onto my hand. “It’s pretty close,” I tell her, tilting my hand so I can examine my ring.
