one. a downpour earlier in the day turns the streets into a collection of tiny rivers, and he carries her box of leftovers and makes her walk on the right hand side of the street. she doesn't mind this, but she does give him the longest of quizzical looks as she's almost herded to the inside. he tips his head, knowingly, and they both watch as a car speeds by and sends up a small spray of water that would've certainly wet her ankles and the hem of her dress.
james grins at her and tells her that she looks too pretty to be getting wet, and esme swears she can see the rest of her life in that smile. so she gets brave, because he's too polite to do much more than hold her hand and kiss her cheek at this stage, and takes two steps forward to stand on her toes and press her lips into the corner of his mouth.
two. he wakes her up crawling into bed. not that it's hard — she sleeps better on his side of the bed when he's not home, and he's practically laid out on top of her anyways. she'd know him by smell, by sound, by aura alone, because the air gets a little easier to breathe when he's in close proximity, and still esme does the work to turn herself to face him. her night gown rucks up around her hips, legs tangled in the blanket, and even when esme opens her mouth to whisper hi, it's laden and half asleep.
it has been three days since he last touched her, but it feels like an eternity. she can tell the feeling is mutual in the way his fingers linger along her cheek when he brushes tendrils of curls out of her face. esme reciprocates, reaches up to cup his face in between her small hands, and asks if he wants to talk about it. he shakes his head. she nods, just leans up for a kiss that is warm, gentle, loving, and she is not the one that went away, but she does find herself filled with the innate feeling of coming home.
three. he drives her home from bottomless mimosa brunch. she's not drunk, but she is visibly tipsy, finds herself delighted beyond belief when she climbs into the car and finds a pint of ice cream and a bag of popcorn that he'd picked up for her along the way. oh, her man, her man — she's obsessed. enamored. head over heels.
" i'm gonna marry you someday, " esme blurts out, somewhere between shedding out of her jacket and toeing off her shoes. james grins, asks promise ? and esme realizes she's said that out loud. she stares at him for approximately five seconds before nodding very seriously, and then leaning over the dash console to kiss him and prove it.
four. she tells him she wants a baby while they're doing dishes. she says it like she's talking about the weather — it's seventy degrees outside with a ten percent chance of rain later on, and i want a baby. she thinks he's okay with that, based on the way he tosses the dish towel over his shoulder and uses his newly freed hands to turn to her and slide his hands up the backs of her thighs.
now ? he asks, and esme nods, reaches down to pull her nightgown up and over her head. " dishes can wait, " she says, tossing the garment aside with a shit-eating grin before leaning in to kiss him.
five. they have had this argument for years, and the only thing that's managed to change her mind is the twelve pound three month old person that they've made together. esme watches willa sleep over the camera for a long while before she makes up her mind, swallows back every instinct that she has as a healer, and clips the baby monitor to her dress strap before wandering outside.
james pulls weeds from her plot of vegetable garden with the same care and devotion that he does everything else for her. even when she sits with her legs folded and their thighs touching, he keeps at it, gives her the space to figure out the words she wants to use. she'd never fancied herself much of a fighter, despised the idea more than life itself, but that was before there was a baby to consider. so esme lets her jaw shift around in her mouth uncomfortably for a long moment, because they both know that this isn't easy for her, and then very quietly asks him to teach her.
and james, god bless his soul, doesn't gloat or chastise, or one of the million other things he could do in that moment. he just wraps an arm around her shoulders and kisses her head, and tells her thank you.
