Page 31 of My Only

I looked at Ayla again, and she looked back at me.

I started brushing faster.

She squinted her eyes, instantly catching on, and picked up speed.

“Oh, you’re accepting the challenge?” I mumbled.

“Accepting?” she teased. “Baby, I’m already winning.”

At that point, we were flying through our routine, both of us laughing—until she had to hunch over the sink to spit out her toothpaste before she swallowed it by accident.

“I won,” she declared, spitting once more.

“No, you didn’t.” I laughed. “The only reason you spit was because you were about to choke.”

She grabbed one of the towels folded on the vanity, giggling. “A win is a win.”

Minutes later, we settled into bed.

Ayla adjusted herself under the covers, reclining against her pillow, and I just watched her.

Studied her.

For so many nights, I had wanted to be in her bed full-time.

From the time we started dating to when I proposed, we had maintained separate apartments.

I had moved from D.C. and gotten my own place in Manhattan, always holding onto the dream of us being here, in this house, in this bed, together.

Now, it was real.

Her hair was wrapped in a silk floral headscarf, her beautiful legs tucked under the covers, her breathing steady as she settled in.

She looked comfortable. At peace. At home.

Something about that warmed me in a way nothing else could.

I was living my dream.

For so long, I had imagined what life with her would have been like if she had said yes when I asked her to give us a chance on our college graduation day.

Now, here we were.

This was it.

I hadn’t just imagined it anymore.

I was in my dream.

Ayla turned her head and smiled at me. “What?”

I almost brushed it off but decided not to.

“I dreamed this,” I said, a slow smile pulling at my lips.

Her brows furrowed slightly as she turned more toward me. “Dreamed what?”

“You, here. In this bed beside me, under the skylight above us.” I glanced up, then back at her. “I dreamed this.”

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