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sometimesanalice · 1 year ago

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💖 OH MY HEART OH MY HEART OH MY HEART OH MY HEART OH MY HEART! 💖

This is the loveliest of slow burns. Everything about this series is a perfectly lovely hug. Oh, the gentle love of it all! I am tender! And I’ll never get over it!

He’s not sure why he’s worried; she’s picked up every other time he’s called./Which has been every day this week, so far.— oh he’s obSeSssSSSSed with herrrr (I need you to hear that a la Jean-Ralphio)

He returns her smile, only slightly distracted by the brief flash of lace he gets where her work shirt is unbuttoned.— THAT MAN IS A 404 ERROR I JUST KNOW IT. [bradley bradshaw: no brain function to be found]

He gets comfortable on his couch, propping himself up on a mountain of pillows and letting the sweet sound of Mary’s voice wash over him. — shut upppppppp, SHUT UPPPPPP!! That they’re just hanging out on FaceTime, while she’s on another call, like they’re chilling at home together?? HOW DARE YOU?!! This kind of easy long distance domestic intimacy, I simply cannotttttt

It’s sexy, he thinks, imagining what it would be like to have her whisper in his ear in Italian, even if he would have no idea what was being said.— blessssssssss 🫠🫠🫠🫠 Bradley Bradshaw loves girls who are smarter than him and that’s a FACT! (*goes to google ‘pretty boy’ in Italian*)

“You speak Italian.” She nods, saying something to him and laughing when he just looks confused. — oh that one brain cell he has left has a concussion from the way it’s ping-ponging around in his brain

Of course, he can’t admit that it’s from running his hands through it during his minor panic that she wouldn’t pick up and then while dreaming about having her on his lap.— this man is a messssss

“That’s so cool! I took Spanish in high school, but I really only remember how to ask about the library. Donde está la biblioteca?” They laugh at his poor pronunciation.—- AND THEN HE SAYS IT STOP 😂 why is he so cute??!

Bradley’s mouth goes dry as he watches Mary unbutton her shirt, slipping it off to reveal a white camisole that clings to her in all the right places.— miss ma’am is going to END HIM

He tucks an arm behind his head, watching her freshen her makeup and telling her about the antics the Dagger Squad had gotten up to without her. — I love how it feels like they’re in the same room, living their best lives up life, when they’re in different states and in different time zones and haven’t even had a date yet. I love how easily they’ve slipped into this, the casual domesticity is my everythinggggg. Give me a gentle love.

They had, of course, gotten too competitive about it and completely over-performed the expected standards. Admiral Simpson was so frustrated that he let them go early, banning them from his sight for the rest of the day.— of course they did! OF COURSE! The 1% babyyyyyy

Harvard does and then takes Mary’s seat, waving at Bradley with a big grin on his face, completely unaware of how Bradley is reeling inside.—- noooooo, she’s only got eyes for you! Sweet, stupid boy!

“You look beautiful, honey.” Bradley says lowly once their friend is gone, like if he’s quiet enough with his compliments, then their just friends for now promise won’t be broken.— OH I AM SO SO SWOON 🥰🥰🥰

“You look handsome.”/“Even with my hair sticking up?”/“Even then, dolcezza.” She hums.— MY HEART CANNOT TAKE IT, I AM TOO SOFT FOR THIS

A wave of longing hits him; she looks so soft and sweet. He wants nothing more than to be there with her.— THE LONGING! THE YEARNING! THE PINING!

“You tipsy, honey?”//“Think so.” She giggles, burying her face in her pillow for a second.— they’re so cuteeeeeeee stoppppppp ittttttttt

“Are you jealous? It’s okay if you are, but you don’t have to be. He really is like a brother. Besides, you’re the only sexy Dagger. Like, you’re all ridiculously attractive - statistically, only one or two of you should be hot, and somehow you all are; someone should study the probability of that - but you’re the only one I think is sexy.”— WE’RE ALL THINKING IT MARY IS THE ONLY PNE SMART ENOUGH TO SAY IT

“You remember my birthday?”/ “Of course I do, March 14th - Pi Day. And if I did my math correctly, you’re going to be 34.”— someone come collect me, I’m a pile of pink goo on the ground. 🫠 he is the sweetest my heart can’t take it (insert Jenny slate quote here)

“Bradley… that plan isn’t very just friends.” Her voice is quiet, shy.— IM CHEWING ON DRYWALL AT THIS POINT PLANS ARE MADE TO BE BROKENNNNNN MY BEST BABE

“So whatdya say? Gonna let me make you dinner?”- 🫡🫡🫡

The screen goes dark, and Bradley smiles back at his own reflection. It had taken some trial and error, but he had looked up what dolcezza meant while she was at dinner.— THERE IS NOTHING HOTTER THAN A MAN WHO GOOGLES

She knows this means more for them than just dinner.- ITS LOVE BABY

She’s beginning to regret asking that they wait to go on a date until he gets back from this deployment. He was so kind and understanding when she explained and had been taking everything at the pace she requested. But an itch is starting to form, one she can’t scratch by herself.— me chanting “make new plans and get that dick” (lovingly, respectfully)

Why the fuck did I say we should be just friends for now?/Bradley looks gorgeous. There’s no other word to describe it. The sleeves of his sweater are pushed up and hugging his arms, the soft fabric stretched across his broad shoulders. He’s wearing her favorite pair of jeans, the light-wash ones that cup his ass just right. And he’s gotten a trim, his curls slightly shorter than the last time she saw him in person.— NO THOUGHTS EMPTY HEAD. NO THOUGHTS EMPTY HEAD. NO THOUGHTS EMPTY HEAD. NO THOUGHTS EMPTY HEAD. help help help. *sos pushing the life alert button with the last of me my strength*

“Hi. Happy birthday, Mariella.” /Her heart pounds with the care he always uses with her name, the respect.— 🥰🥰🥰🥰

His chest brushes her back, and he squeezes her hip as he moves to his seat, murmuring a low thanks when she puts bread on his plate. — 🫠🫠🫠 well fuck me

“It’s your favorite.”— a boy who remembers, a boy who cares, amen 🙏🏼

Bradley offers to carry her groceries. He’s such a good guy. It’s not his fault she’s so pathetic and convinced herself a man like Bradley could want someone like her./“That’s sweet, but I’ve got it. Been doing this all by myself for years now! Enjoy your pizza, guys!” She gives a poor excuse of a wave, her smile sad as she thinks about how true her statement is.— oh my sweet girliepop. Getting this from her pov is so OUCH.

he didn’t ask her to help him make the recipe for whatever lucky woman he had in mind when he asked about making it for a date. Because she would have said yes, desperate to spend time with the man she had a crush on.— TWO IDIOTS IN LOVEEEE HE WAS THINKING OF YOUUUUUUUUUUUU

His socked feet brush her own, and he reaches over to grab her hand.” You said you would only make it for someone who was committed to you.”/Her heart races at the implication of his words./I’m committed to you.— THE WAY MY EYES FLOODED WITH TEARS!! Be gone dry eyes, all I need is to read these few sentence whenever I need a dewy eye refresh. Oh my heart is too tender for this. THE UNSAID I AM COMMITTED TO YOU IN PASTA FORM 😭💖😭💖😭💖😭

Her stare lingers on his face for another minute, committing his soft expression to memory, before looking down at her bowl.- 🥰

“It really does look great.” She doesn’t let go of his hand, scooping a bite with her right hand and blowing to cool it down. Bradley’s eyes twinkle as she takes the first bite, his pupils dilating at the involuntary sound that escapes as the flavors melt in her mouth.- AND THEYRE STILL HOLDING HANDS?!!! 🫠

The butterflies in her storm are waging a war against her, but not in a bad way. It’s not nerves or anxiety that’s making her stomach flip./It’s happiness./It’s Bradley.- MY HEART IS SO HAPPY THAT SHE IS SO HAPPY OH ITS LIKE ROOTING FOR YOUR BEST FRIEND TO FIND THEIR PERSON AND SEEING THEIR LOVE STORY UNFOLD! I AM WRITING MY WEDDING SPEECH FOR THEM RIGHT NOW IM READY

Mary can’t look away from the man sitting next to her. Her heart is so full she could cry.- don’t worry babe I’m crying enough for the both of us 😭💖

His soft voice interrupts her thoughts. “Make a wish, honey.”/I hope we never get tired of each other. I hope we grow old together. I hope we love each other forever./She keeps eye contact with him as she blows the candle out, hoping he understands she’s wishing for him./For them.— I AM STILL NOT OVER THIS I WILL *NEVER* BE OVER THIS NOT WHEN YOU SENT ME THE SNIPPET AND NOT NOW MY HEAAAAARRRRTTTTTT (will go on and onnnn *cue the penny whistle*)

[hello, life alert? It’s all good, fam. False alarm cancel the ambulance but hold the reservation at the ER just in case]

“Well, we wouldn’t want that. Would we?” Her heart kicks into overdrive as he leans closer, his right hand pushing hair out of her face while the other slips around her back, tugging her closer.- 🥰

“Of course. Happy Birthday, dolcezza.”— ITS WHAT SHE DESERVES

This was the decadent love thing I needed! I am properly SWOONING! I adore them, Elle! 💖

Mar[r]y Me - part seven

pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x Mariella “M&M” Vertucci (fem!OC)

summary: A love story told through friendship, laughter, and food.

series warnings: 18+ minors DNI, discussion of insecurities, difficult family relationships, discussions of food and alcohol use, discussions of body image, conversations on what it’s like to be a fat woman trying to date in today’s society, extreme fluff, if you read these be warned that the last little bit will probably make you want to yell at me, ignore the fact that the mentioned tswift song wasn't out in 2021, warnings to be added as needed

word count: 4.8k

previous part | series masterlist | main masterlist

note: happy Friday!! it’s here! part seven!! I can't wait to hear what everyone thinks, I hope you all have an amazing weekend!! (side note: this chapter means we've almost hit 50,000 words on this story??? what!!! thanks for all your support!)

part seven - pasta e piselli

C’mon, pick up. Pick up. Pick up. Pick up.

Bradley repeats the plea over and over again in his head, staring at his own stressed expression on the Facetime call screen. He’s not sure why he’s worried; she’s picked up every other time he’s called.

Which has been every day this week, so far.

He’s just about to give up, figuring she’s still busy at work, when Mary answers.

“Happy Thurs-” Bradley stops when he realizes she’s on the phone, holding a finger up.

“Just hang on one second, Zia! No! I-” She speaks rapidly in another language, surprising Bradley, before pulling the phone away and bending closer to her iPad. “Sorry, I just need like ten minutes to get her off the phone, and then I’m all yours. I can call you back?”

“Nah, that’s okay. I’ll just be here.” He returns her smile, only slightly distracted by the brief flash of lace he gets where her work shirt is unbuttoned.

Bradley watches her bustle around her hotel room, tidying up and throwing things in her suitcase as she talks on the phone. He gets comfortable on his couch, propping himself up on a mountain of pillows and letting the sweet sound of Mary’s voice wash over him. He’s pretty sure she’s talking to her aunt in Italian, based on the googling he did of the bits and pieces he was able to understand.

It’s sexy, he thinks, imagining what it would be like to have her whisper in his ear in Italian, even if he would have no idea what was being said.

“You would think the fact that she’s closing in on 100 would mean she would have less energy to talk, but somehow, she’s only gained strength over the years.”

His focus comes back to the screen, drifting away from the fantasy he was building in his head to find Mary smiling sweetly at him, her chin resting in her hand. “Hi.”

“Hi, Bradley.”

“You speak Italian.” She nods, saying something to him and laughing when he just looks confused. “What?”

“I said that you must have had a stressful day because your hair looks like your call sign, Mr. Rooster.”

“It’s not that bad!” A glance at his Facetime window tells him that his hair is sticking straight up. Of course, he can’t admit that it’s from running his hands through it during his minor panic that she wouldn’t pick up and then while dreaming about having her on his lap. “Okay. I’ve had better hair days. But back to you, Italian?”

“Yeah, my whole family speaks it to varying degrees. The first few generations - on both sides - spoke very little English, if any at all. My parents and their siblings are the first generation that you could consider fully fluent in English. I had older relatives that only spoke Italian live with my family growing up, so I was a bilingual baby.”

“Was it hard to learn English?”

“Not really? Our house was English first, Italian second whenever possible, so I picked both up pretty quick.”

“That’s so cool! I took Spanish in high school, but I really only remember how to ask about the library. Donde está la biblioteca?” They laugh at his poor pronunciation. “So, how was your day?”

“It was good! Very productive; with all the meetings today, I finally had enough time to finish my program review slides! So tomorrow, I can fully focus on outfitting the last three jets. The team up here understood the upgrade really quickly, which is encouraging. It means the training pipeline that Dave put in place is working.”

“That’s good. What uh- what are you doing now?” Bradley’s mouth goes dry as he watches Mary unbutton her shirt, slipping it off to reveal a white camisole that clings to her in all the right places.

“Some of the people I worked with in Florida are here for training and program review prep! And we finally all have a free evening, so we’re going to dinner! I want to wear that shirt tomorrow morning, and I don’t want to get makeup on it while I’m retouching.”

“That sounds fun.” He can hear how rough his voice is, heart thumping when he watches her eyes dart to his, a light pink appearing on the apples of her round cheeks.

“How was your day?”

He tucks an arm behind his head, watching her freshen her makeup and telling her about the antics the Dagger Squad had gotten up to without her. It had been a light day; everyone got grounded due to rain, so Cyclone had them act as guinea pigs for a new training regiment the Navy is considering. They had, of course, gotten too competitive about it and completely over-performed the expected standards. Admiral Simpson was so frustrated that he let them go early, banning them from his sight for the rest of the day.

“He really swore at you guys?!” Mary laughs, swiping something shiny over her lips.

“He did! And he did that thing where he gets so mad his face turns red, and it looks like that vein in his neck is going to rupture!”

“You guys are going to kill that man.”

“It’s Mav’s fault. He taught us the right buttons to push.” Bradley shrugs when Mary raises a doubtful eyebrow at him, a laugh threatening to break through.

“I only half believe that some of you are quite annoying all on your own.”

“Wow, hurtful.”

She giggles at his dramatic chest grab. “I didn’t name names; if you took offense, that’s your own fault. Does my makeup look okay? Any places need fixing?”

Mary holds the tablet up to her face, closing her eyes to show off her makeup. Bradley takes the quiet moment to admire her. She’s never really been one to wear much makeup, but every time she does, it just enhances her beauty.

“You look great.” He holds back all the compliments and praise he wants to shower her with, reminding himself they’re not quite there yet, choosing to add some helpful feedback instead. “You do have some mascara on your right eyelid, though.”

“Oh, thank you! I’ll clean that up when I change.” She walks over to the closet, pulling out two dresses. “Which one for dinner?”

“The red one.” He answers with zero hesitation. He loves red on her; the color always looks so good against her tanned skin.

She hums, holding the dress against herself and looking in the mirror. “Yeah, good choice. I’m gonna ch-”

Mary shrieks as a door flies open, and Harvard comes bursting in. “Are you ready yet?”

“Brigham! You’re only supposed to use that for emergencies!”

“I’m hungry, and I want to get going.”

“That is not an emergency! What if I was naked?!”

“I could hear Rooster’s big mouth; I knew you weren’t naked. C’mon! Get changed. I want to eat!”

Bradley sits there baffled as Mary throws the dress he didn’t pick at Harvard’s head, snapping at him to hang it up before slamming the bathroom door behind her.

Harvard does and then takes Mary’s seat, waving at Bradley with a big grin on his face, completely unaware of how Bradley is reeling inside. “Hey, man! What’s up? How’re you?”

He doesn’t break to let Rooster answer, rambling on about his week and the mentoring program Cyclone had sent him to work on. Bradley can only let it go on so long before he bursts. “How did you get in?”

At that exact moment, Mary reappears, the red fabric highlighting her tan and accentuating her curves, even better than he remembered it from the night they met. “We ended up with adjoining rooms.”

“We’re keeping them unlocked for emergency purposes, aka so I can make sure she actually has some fun while we’re here.” Harvard proudly announces.

“I was swindled; he’s got very convincing puppy dog eyes.” She ushers him out of her chair so she can slip her shoes on. “It’s like the little brother I never wanted.”

“You’re so mean to me.”

Mary looks at Bradley and rolls her eyes. “And yet he refuses to leave. Go grab your wallet and the keys so we can get going.”

They both ignore Brigham’s muttered complaints as he heads to his room, focusing on each other.

“You look beautiful, honey.” Bradley says lowly once their friend is gone, like if he’s quiet enough with his compliments, then their just friends for now promise won’t be broken.

She looks at him through her lashes, putting her earring on and answering just as lowly. “Thank you. You look handsome.”

“Even with my hair sticking up?”

“Even then, dolcezza.” She hums. A yell from next door interrupts them before he can ask what she called him. “I gotta go, or we’ll be late for dinner. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Have fun, be safe.”

“Hello?” Bradley grumbles into the receiver, not appreciating being woken up after it took almost an hour to fall asleep.

“I can’t see you, Bradley; turn the light on.”

He pulls the phone back, pleasantly surprised to find Mary staring back at him. She’s showered and propped her phone against something, her brown eyes looking sleepy as she snuggles under the covers. A wave of longing hits him; she looks so soft and sweet. He wants nothing more than to be there with her.

“Sorry I woke you up.” She apologizes as he flips the light on and stands his phone on his bedside table.

“S’okay. Did you have a good time with your friends?”

“Yeah…” She sighs, a lazy smile spreading across her face. “It was great! I haven’t seen them since I left last year. We drank so much wine, which happens every time we let Ron pick the restaurant.”

“You tipsy, honey?”

“Think so.” She giggles, burying her face in her pillow for a second. “But it’s okay. Brigham drove, and he made sure I didn’t twist my ankle in those sandals.”

“Did he complain about it?”

“The whole time, he’s a good guy.” She blinks at his annoyed grumble. “Are you jealous? It’s okay if you are, but you don’t have to be. He really is like a brother. Besides, you’re the only sexy Dagger. Like, you’re all ridiculously attractive - statistically, only one or two of you should be hot, and somehow you all are; someone should study the probability of that - but you’re the only one I think is sexy.”

Bradley feels his jaw drop at her admission. He wants to stop her and talk about the fact that she thinks he’s sexy, but she’s steamrolling ahead on a different topic.

“I’m so excited to get home! It’s Annie’s birthday on Saturday, so I get to watch her run around with all her little friends from preschool. It’s gonna be so cute!” She coos, her smile wide.

“You’re gonna need a few Advil after listening to all that screaming.”

“Probably, but it’ll be nice to see her have fun on her birthday.”

“Hey, speaking of birthdays. I was thinking we should do something for your birthday on Sunday since I’ll be gone on the actual day.”

“You remember my birthday?”

“Of course I do, March 14th - Pi Day. And if I did my math correctly, you’re going to be 34.”

“That’s right.” Her answer is just above a whisper.

He can’t describe the way Mary is looking at him; her eyes are big and glassy, and there’s something in her expression he just can’t quite recognize.

“I was thinking we’d spend an evening together - just the two of us - and I’ll make dinner for you.”

“That’s so sweet, Bradley, but I don’t know if I can accept. That’s a lot of work.”

“No, it’s not. Not if I’m doing it for you.”

“Bradley… that plan isn’t very just friends.” Her voice is quiet, shy.

“I know. But I promise, this is completely different than the dinner I promised you after I get back in May. It’s not a date like that’s going to be. So whatdya say? Gonna let me make you dinner?”

“Only if I’m bringing dessert.”

“Nope, it’s your birthday. You’re not bringing dessert.”

Mary’s eyebrows scrunch as she sits up to get closer to the camera, the covers slipping down to reveal her nightgown. Bradley swallows hard. He knows she’s not doing it on purpose - doesn’t think she is anyway - but the pink fabric drapes across her skin in the most tantalizing way. He watches the strap slip down her shoulder, feeling weaker with every millimeter it moves. It makes him want to give in to her, but he stays strong, insisting that she’s not allowed to bring food to her own birthday dinner.

“Fine. Am I allowed to bring wine?”

He thinks for a second. “That’s okay, as long as that’s all you bring.”

“Scout’s honor.”

“Alright, smartass. Time for bed.” He lays back down, watching as she gets comfortable.

Mary hums, fighting against her eyes that are trying to slip close. “Talk tomorrow?”

“Course. Good night, honey.”

The last thing he sees before she hangs up is her pretty face, a sleepy smile on her lush lips, and her dark hair spread out on the white hotel pillows. “Night, dolcezza. Sleep well.”

The screen goes dark, and Bradley smiles back at his own reflection. It had taken some trial and error, but he had looked up what dolcezza meant while she was at dinner.

Dolcezza: Sweetheart or Honey (literally: sweetness; considered old-fashioned)

Mary’s anxiety has been eating away at her all day. From the moment she woke up, to getting ready two hours early because she was worried about being late, to this very second. The combination of nerves and excitement has her entire body vibrating. Her hand even shook a little when she lifted it to knock, thankful that she had tucked the wine safely into her canvas bag.

It’s just dinner with Bradley. There’s nothing to be nervous about.

She’s been telling herself that since accepting his invitation, but she can’t fool her own heart. Bradley inviting her over so he can make a birthday dinner for her because he’s going to be gone on her actual birthday? She knows this means more for them than just dinner.

More than just friends.

An itch that can only soothed by Bradley’s lips pressed to hers. By his big hands cradling her face. By his strong body pinning hers to the bed. By the two of them sharing a bed at night. Now that she’s had a slice what it would be like to be with him, she’s desperate for more. Just the thought of how he might taste-

You have got to calm down. Deep breath. Deep breath. Deep breath.

Mary follows her own instructions, trying to practice the Lamaze breathing she learned at Danielle’s birthing classes, the ones she attended when they weren’t sure what Reuben’s schedule would look like. She’s smoothing nonexistent wrinkles out of her shirt when the door opens.

Why the fuck did I say we should be just friends for now?

Bradley looks gorgeous. There’s no other word to describe it. The sleeves of his sweater are pushed up and hugging his arms, the soft fabric stretched across his broad shoulders. He’s wearing her favorite pair of jeans, the light-wash ones that cup his ass just right. And he’s gotten a trim, his curls slightly shorter than the last time she saw him in person.

As a familiar aroma wafts past his tall frame, his flushed cheeks make her wonder if it’s because he’s been cooking or because of her. She hopes it’s because of her.

“Hi. Happy birthday, Mariella.”

She loves it when Bradley says her full name. His pink lips curving around the letters, the syllables effortlessly dripping from his mouth. He even develops the tiniest Italian accent, an unconscious effect of her name. Her heart pounds with the care he always uses with her name, the respect.

“Thanks, Bradley.” She’s momentarily taken off guard when he pulls her into his strong chest but is reluctant to pull back from his warm hug. “Whatever you’re making smells good.”

“Thank you! I think you’re gonna like it.”

Mary’s smile widens as he takes her bag while she slips her shoes off. “Yeah? What are we having?”

“Oh, that’s a surprise - you’ll just have to wait a little bit and see. Have a seat at the table, and I’ll pour you a glass of this wine you brought.”

She slips into a dining room chair and watches as he opens the wine, bobbing his head to the music coming from the record player across the room. He dramatically sniffs the cork, and the cheeky smile he shoots over his shoulder makes her laugh.

“Something funny, Miss Mary?” Bradley saunters around the counter peninsula, handing over a stemless wine glass.

“Nothing, just unaware I was in the presence of a sommelier. Did you taste the peach the label talked about?”

“I did; I also picked up on notes of lime. Very delicious pinot grigio you selected for tonight.”

“The Navy’s amazing reading skills in action.” She smirks at the confused tilt of his head. “It’s a sauvignon blanc, Bradley.”

He throws his head back as he laughs. “Shit! They all taste the same to me.”

“Me too.” She admits as he checks on the food, warmth blooming in her chest at the domesticity of the scene. All the anxiety from earlier suddenly seems ridiculous; she’s never felt more comfortable with a man. “Which drives Dani insane because apparently there’s a lot of differences.”

“Wine is wine! You know, like Mr. Incredible when he tries to do the math homework?” Bradley jokes as he sets salad and bread on the table. “Could you dish out the salad while I serve the pasta?”

Mary is slicing the loaf of sourdough when Bradley sets a bowl of pasta at seat. His chest brushes her back, and he squeezes her hip as he moves to his seat, murmuring a low thanks when she puts bread on his plate. She loses her breath as she sits back down, her heart racing when she sees what he’s made.

“Pasta e piselli?”

“It’s your favorite.”

“You remember that?”

“What’s your favorite?”

Mary perks up at the question, happy that Bradley is so interested in what she has to say. “Pasta e piselli, which is just pasta and peas. But it’s so good and filling and comforting.”

“Do you make it a lot?”

“I don’t actually, Amelia, even though it’s very easy to make.” She sends a conspiratory wink to her, getting a big smile in return. “It’s one of those recipes I break out for a special dinner or when I need a pick-me-up meal.”

“Special dinner? You ever make it for a date?”

The question stops her cold. She knows Amelia catches the way her face drops, a shocked expression she can’t quite control. One of her worst qualities, according to her mother. She can feel pity radiating from the young girl standing on the end of the cart, feeling sad for the pathetic thirty-three-year-old woman who can’t understand when a man just thinks of her as a friend.

Her throat feels acidic, swallowing the tears that threaten to show themselves. She feels so stupid, because up until that question, she would have sworn Bradley was flirting with her. She should know better by now. She’s not someone that men find desirable. She’s fat and awkward and bad at flirting.

Mary stutters out an answer, some bullshit about commitment, before focusing on Amelia, who interrupts to talk about cupcakes. She takes advantage of the distraction, using it to move them toward the cashiers and taking the first chance to get away from the siblings. She can’t help but feel even more heartbroken when Bradley offers to carry her groceries. He’s such a good guy. It’s not his fault she’s so pathetic and convinced herself a man like Bradley could want someone like her.

“That’s sweet, but I’ve got it. Been doing this all by myself for years now! Enjoy your pizza, guys!” She gives a poor excuse of a wave, her smile sad as she thinks about how true her statement is.

She has been doing it by herself for years. All alone - no partner, no roommate, no help - since she graduated college. Her best friends usually thousands of miles away, limited contact with her family in New York, only a few friends in Missouri. And then, in Florida, just when she had started to get friendly with people besides the admiral she worked with, she had gotten the job in San Diego and moved, leaving that budding life behind.

She should probably be thankful that Bradley didn’t press more after Amelia interrupted. That he didn’t ask her to help him make the recipe for whatever lucky woman he had in mind when he asked about making it for a date. Because she would have said yes, desperate to spend time with the man she had a crush on.

Well, that’s gonna stop now righ now, she decides as she sends one last small smile to Bradley and Amelia, trudging out to her Jeep and letting herself cry for a few seconds once the groceries are loaded. Driving home with tears leaking down her cheeks as her favorite sad Taylor Swift song plays on repeat.

“Of course I do.” His socked feet brush her own, and he reaches over to grab her hand.” You said you would only make it for someone who was committed to you.”

Her heart races at the implication of his words.

I’m committed to you.

“You asked if I would make this for a date.” Bradley nods. “This isn’t a date.”

“It’s not a date.” He confirms, his thumb brushing over her knuckles.

“It’s only been a week, I’m not-”

“I know, Mary.” He gently cuts her off. “It’s not a date; I just wanted to make something special for your birthday.”

She tries to swallow around the lump in her throat, overwhelmed by the sweet and thoughtful man sitting beside her. Compared to her previous relationship attempts, Bradley keeps surpassing her expectations by leaps and bounds. She knows it’s not fair to compare them, to keep waiting for him to act like them. He’s not them.

He is so much better.

Bradley is kind and caring. He listens to her, really takes in what she’s saying, doesn’t just nod as the words come out of her mouth. The slightest brush of his skin against hers sets her on fire. He makes her feel safe; she’s never once questioned his intentions or felt uneasy while in the car with him.

Logically, Mary knows the beautiful man in front of her really does care about her, but it’s still hard to believe they’ve gotten here. That they’re here, having this not-date that is so clearly a date. That they’ve confessed their feelings.

“Try some.”

Her stare lingers on his face for another minute, committing his soft expression to memory, before looking down at her bowl.

No one had made this meal for her since her grandmother passed away twenty years ago. It's like a taste of childhood between the fresh peas and the sharp pecorino cheese.

“Is it good?”

“Well, it’s not Nonna Romano's pasta e piselli, but you did a great job, Bradley. It’s delicious.” She smiles as his face drops in relief, a wide smile replacing his nervous one.

They spend dinner talking and laughing, their legs constantly brushing together as they discuss which post-program review happy hour mixers they should attend. Then, after the leftovers are packed up, Bradley ushers her onto his balcony and plops the two of them on his wicker loveseat, ignoring her protests that she could do the dishes.

“I’ll do them later. Just sit here and relax with me, would ya?”

“Fine.” Mary huffs, shuffling closer until she’s tucked into his side, warm and content under the blanket he grabbed.

The two sit in comfortable silence, cuddled together as they listen to the sounds of the street below and watch the last rays of the sunset slip away. It’s not until the few stars that are actually visible through San Diego’s light pollution appear in the sky that one of them moves.

“I’ll be right back.” He says, chuckling at her tiny, displeased whine when he pulls away. She watches him walk into his apartment, appreciating the long lines of his body.

When the door slides shut, she takes a second to just breathe, the crisp evening air filling her lungs and cooling her warm cheeks as she tries to calm herself down. The butterflies in her storm are waging a war against her, but not in a bad way. It’s not nerves or anxiety that’s making her stomach flip.

It’s happiness.

It’s Bradley.

An involuntary laugh escapes at the realization. Mary presses the blanket against her face, muffling the excited giggles she can’t control. Giddy like a schoolgirl with her first real crush. She brings the blanket down at the sound of the door opening; her cheeks are sore from smiling so big but they stretch even more at the sight in front of her.

Bradley walking towards her, singing Happy Birthday with a slice of cheesecake in one hand and his phone in the other. He carefully sits back down, handing over the plate to light the candle.

“Happy birthday to you!”

Mary can’t look away from the man sitting next to her. Her heart is so full she could cry. She’s never been one to make a big fuss about birthdays. Usually spends the day working and enjoying her colleagues' happiness at the treats she brought to share. Treating herself to dinner out and maybe some dessert before calling her best friends to chat and catch up, laughing through their awful rendition of Happy Birthday.

The effort Bradley has put in has her on the brink of happy tears. Not only did he remember her favorite dinner months after she mentioned it once, but he put in the time to actually make it. He’s done all the work himself and hasn’t let her lift a finger. Something she appreciates more than he could ever imagine. Growing up, there was never a day where she was allowed to not help. Every special day of her - birthday, graduation - ended with her in the kitchen, putting leftovers away and washing dishes while her brothers got to have fun. And on top of all that, she knows he asked Dani or Reuben for help because he’s stuck a candle in a slice of chocolate raspberry swirl cheesecake - her favorite.

His soft voice interrupts her thoughts. “Make a wish, honey.”

I hope we never get tired of each other. I hope we grow old together. I hope we love each other forever.

She keeps eye contact with him as she blows the candle out, hoping he understands she’s wishing for him.

For them.

Bradley stops recording and drops his phone on the table without looking, scooting closer to her with a hungry look in his eyes. It’s clear as day how much he wants her, even in the low light of the balcony, and it sends shivers up her spine.

“What did you wish for?” His voice is rough compared to a few seconds ago, like there’s gravel in his throat.

Mary’s eyes flicker between his lips and his eyes, unable to decide which one she wants to look at more. “I can’t say, or it might not come true.” His mouth wins the battle when his tongue peeks out to wet his lips.

“Thank you for this, it was perfect.”

Mary leans in, her breath hitching when the tips of their noses brush. Her free hand runs up his chest, appreciating the soft sweater before dipping into his curls. Bradley presses in even further, the small dessert plate between them the only thing keeping them apart.

“Of course. Happy Birthday, dolcezza.”

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#I need you all to know I read this with a cup of coffee and a chocolate croissant and had the loveliest of mornings #this is the kind of melt in your mouth read that EVERYONE NEEDS IN THEIR LIFE #I am so swoony and gooey 🥰#trust me on this- you want to read this one!#tgm fic rec #here have a fic rec

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