Squared Away (Out of Uniform 5)

“It could be with you,” Isaiah whispered. “I want it to be with you. I want a family together. But I’m also working hard on being more pragmatic with my big dreams—”

“Dream with me. Please.”

* * *

Mark wanted him to dream but Isaiah simply wasn’t sure he remembered how. This was a huge risk, with everything on the line. And part of him wanted to leap headlong into the unknown, throw himself at Mark with an unequivocal yes. But the other part, the part that had spent the past few weeks alone and uncertain, held back.

“And if I say I need more time, that I just can’t give you an answer right this second, what then?”

Watching Mark’s face transform from unabashed hope to droopy resignation was one of the hardest things Isaiah had done.

“That’s reasonable. And fair. I’ll write the letter,” Mark said at last. “I mean it. I believe you’re best for the kids whether you want me in your life romantically or not. So I’ll wait. And try to show you that I won’t make the same mistakes twice. Try to show you that I’m worthy of a second chance.”

It was the right answer. The best answer. And the reluctant part of Isaiah softened a bit more.

“I’m not saying no.” Isaiah gave in to the urge to grab Mark’s hands, squeeze them. “But I need to think on this whole proposal thing.”

“So maybe we go slow?” Some of the hope returned to Mark’s eyes. “You went slow for me. I can do that for you. As long as it takes.”

“I can handle slow.” Isaiah ghosted a kiss across Mark’s cheek. “You taught me to love going slow. Before I was always speeding through life, one milepost to the next, missing all sorts of sights along the way.”

“Then let’s drive the slow lane together.” Mark pulled him into a tight hug. “I missed you. I missed you so much.”

“Me too.” Isaiah bit his lip, uncertain what they were supposed to do now. “It’s late. And you’ve got work early tomorrow.”

“Yeah.” Mark didn’t seem like he knew any more than Isaiah how to go forward.

“Do you...” He swallowed hard. “Do you want to sleep upstairs?”

“Yeah. Please.” Mark nodded.

Isaiah liked how with Mark he could say “sleep” and that was what would probably happen—Mark wasn’t going to read the offer as an open invitation to sex. But after this emotional, draining talk, one they’d both poured so much into, he needed to simply hold Mark for a while, let some of his anger and frustration drain away, replay the pretty things Mark had said, bask in the knowledge that Mark believed in him, believed in them. He loves me. He really loves me.

They made their way upstairs, where by some silent agreement they both stripped down to their boxer briefs and crawled under the covers together.

“This okay?” Mark slid closer.

“Yeah.” Isaiah rolled so that his head rested on Mark’s chest.

“I love you.” Mark’s voice was sleepy now but no less earnest. “And I’m going to keep on loving you, even if you hate my wild idea.”

“It’s not a terrible idea.” Isaiah gave a rough laugh. “And thanks.” He was well aware that he hadn’t quite said the same words in the present tense. And he couldn’t get them out right now either. But he also couldn’t say nothing. “Be safe tomorrow, okay? I don’t want anything happening to my favorite person.”

“Always am.” Mark kissed the top of his head. “Sleep good.”

Unfortunately, Isaiah didn’t sleep well at all—fitful dreams and waking up in the wee hours to the baby squalling on the baby monitor and Mark’s side of the bed already empty. When he made it to the nursery, he discovered Mark already there. He’d pulled his jeans back on but not the shirt and was dancing with the baby, crooning to him.

It took Isaiah a second to recognize the song from Cal and Danielle’s wedding. The song. “You remembered?” he whispered, not sure he wanted to break this spell. “After all this time?”

“Always. It’s been in my head all night.” Mark offered him a sheepish grin. “Couldn’t think of another tune to get him back down. He likes this one though.” Mark turned so Isaiah could see Liam’s sleeping face.

You’re my person. The one. Isaiah was a newfound realist, but he was also still Isaiah, crown prince of slightly dubious, impulsive executive decisions. And in that moment, Mark dancing with the baby, humming the song that would forever be their song, Isaiah just knew.

“You’re it,” he whispered to Mark. “My person. You’ve always been in my heart.”

“Can you ever forgive me?” Mark asked after he laid the baby back down in the crib.

“I think I already did,” Isaiah admitted. “I’m scared of being hurt again, but I’m more scared of what happens if we don’t try.”