Page 55 of Winging It with You

Theo

The Fernandez Residence

Monona, Wisconsin

We’ve fallen into a lovely routine on the lake: Waking up with enough time to sneak coffee back into our room.

Walks along the water, hand in hand as we talk about nothing and everything.

Quiet moments on the dock with the water slapping against the wood as our soundtrack.

Anything to maximize our alone time. Not that I had any concerns about Asher and my family getting along.

In fact, they’ve become as thick as thieves. And I couldn’t be happier.

This morning, he dutifully followed my mother’s instructions at the stove when she explained the steps required to make her famous pozole, the rich stew boiling on the burner between them.

He asked all the right questions and the two of them went back and forth, laughing, chopping, and mixing the afternoon away.

He also didn’t hesitate to join my father on his mission to gather some wood for the firepit.

I’d spent the last few weeks traversing the globe with this man who practically groaned at every mention of physical activity, so I watched in borderline disbelief as he voluntarily walked into the woods with an ax slung over his shoulder and a genuine smile on his face.

We had family meals every day, ran errands in town with Mom, and checked out my favorite places as we drove to visit Elise at her clinic. I could not be prouder to see everything she’s accomplished in our hometown.

When the delayed and rather unimpressive finale of The Epic Trek finally streamed, the entire family gathered around the television. Lola found her place in my lap and Frankie insisted on curling up in Asher’s. He didn’t seem to mind.

We watched Bianca and Jackson stand opposite Jenn and Ellie, and after what felt like an eternity, our friends’ names flashed across the screen.

My heart just about shot out of my chest with joy. Everyone was on their feet, cheering loudly as we watched our sobbing Midwest friends hug on-screen, confetti and balloons surrounding them like the happiest of snow globes.

Today was spent at the zoo as a family—Lola’s hand in mine and Frankie on Asher’s shoulders at his request. They bombarded Ash with questions about the animals and exhibits, which he happily and rather animatedly answered.

Even if some of his explanations were above my head, my niece and nephew hung on to every word.

“Look, Tío Dos, it’s you and Mr. Asher,” Frankie shouted, pointing excitedly when the zookeeper in charge of the penguins pointed out two male penguins who had been bonded for years. A not-rare occurrence in the animal kingdom, we were told.

The two little penguins stood side by side away from the group with their matching little tuxedo markings, and occasionally, one would nuzzle into the other. A subtle check-in but a clear sign of affection nonetheless.

“But did you even exchange pebbles?” Lola asked, her face smooshed up against the glass. Her question prompted Asher to lower Frankie to the ground before bolting out of the exhibit, leaving the three of us scratching our heads at his sudden disappearing act.

He raced back in before we knew it, though, dramatically panting and drawing looks from the nosy zoo-goers.

“Theo Fernandez,” he all but shouted, an over-the-top formality in his voice.

He knelt and a collective gasp erupted from those who had definitely stopped what they were doing to watch our very public, very comical spectacle.

“I searched every corner of the world to find the perfect pebble to present to you.”

He lifted his closed hands and opened them slowly to reveal a partially dirt-covered black rock the size of a misshapen marble that I wasn’t entirely convinced wasn’t a broken-off chunk of pavement from the penguin exhibit walkway.

“Will you do me the greatest honor of accepting this pebble as a token of my affection?” he asked, his eyes gleaming with mischief and a spontaneity that is so unlike him.

“How could I possibly say no to that?” I said, taking the pebble from him, knowing it would quickly become one of my most prized possessions.

It’s already safely wrapped in a pair of socks to be put somewhere special.

Everyone around us clapped in a congratulatory cheer as Lola and Frankie, both seemingly giddy with excitement—I was beginning to think the double scoop of mint-chocolate-chip ice cream was a poor choice—launched themselves at us.

“It looks like a potato, Tío Dos,” Frankie said.

“Leave my potato rock alone.”

Lola reached for Asher’s hand, leading the way out of the exhibit.

If I hadn’t been falling head over heels for this man before, seeing Lola and Frankie fawn over him the way they did definitely solidified Asher’s hold on my heart.

New and exciting, like all relationships begin, but with a permanence that makes my insides melt.

When we got home, we ate dinner as a family, and then Stefan got the kids to bed while Ash and I helped clean up the kitchen and Mom and Elise sipped wine by the fire.

I didn’t think twice when my dad nodded his head from in front of the sink for us to sneak out the side door for some much-needed alone time.

I love my family, but this is what I’ve been craving all day—Asher wrapped up in my arms, his skin sweet and mine to touch.

“What was it like growing up here?” Asher asks, his back now firmly pressed against my chest as we sit in the uncomfortable familiarity of the metal rowboat my family has had for as long as I can remember.

The weather could not be more perfect, and every cricket west of the state of Michigan is out in full force tonight singing their summer song.

“Kinda like this, I guess,” I say against his temple, pulling him tighter against my chest. The soft movement of the lake creates a subtle sway of the boat. “I think I spent more hours on this lake than in the house.”

“Mmm. Sounds nice.” He’s trailing his fingertips across my forearm again. It’s something he does absentmindedly or intentionally when we’re intertwined like this, but either way, each stroke of his touch reaches directly into my core.

“This is nicer.”

He turns in my arms, quickly locking his hands around my neck as he does.

“I don’t want to leave.” Asher kisses me once on the neck and then three more times slowly, his lips lingering longer and longer with each pass against my skin.

We haven’t talked about how all this is and will be coming to an end.

I think we both just decided it was far more fun to stay in this imaginary bubble of blissed-out kisses and the warmth of family.

“Then let’s not,” I say, my lips now against his temple. I can smell the sunshine on his hair and if I could bottle up this very moment, him in my arms on the lake, I’d want to live in it forever. “Let’s just stay right here until we’re old and gray.”

“Wouldn’t that be something,” he says, his thumb slowly gliding along my cheek. I lean my hand into his touch, realizing that I’ve found myself in the middle of a moment I thought only existed in movies and daydreams—wrapped in the embrace of someone I can no longer envision a future without.

I love this man.

It’s as simple as that. And on some level, I think he loves me back.

Neither one of us has said those words yet, but I feel them each time Asher pulls me close and savors every inch of my skin.

I feel them when he reaches for me in the middle of the night, finding solace and comfort with my hand in his.

Clear as day, I feel them here on the lake, the changing colors of the summer sky dancing around us as we cling to each other, willing our bubble to last a little longer.