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Paige woke up to a soft drizzle that made her want to stay tangled in the sheets a little longer. Azzi was already up, of course. The quiet shuffle of feet in the kitchen, the soft clink of a mug against the counter, the low hum of some playlist Paige made for her. Paige stretched and smiled to herself. Domestic life with Azzi still felt a little unreal sometimes.
She padded out in socks and an old practice tee, yawning. “Morning, baby.”
Azzi turned from the coffee maker, already dressed in sweatpants and a hoodie. She offered a small smile.
Paige leaned against the counter, stealing a quick kiss to the corner of Azzi’s mouth. “You’re quiet. Everything okay?”
Azzi poured two mugs and slid one toward Paige. “Laundry day was yesterday.”
Paige blinked. “Was it?”
“Yes.” Azzi’s voice stayed calm, but there was an edge under it. “It was your turn. I reminded you Thursday. And yesterday morning. And last night before I went to sleep when you were stuck on your iPad.”
Paige’s stomach did a slow, guilty flip. She had meant to do it. She really did. There was film study, then a late call with her agent about some sponsorship thing, then KK called her up and got her to play Fortnite and the next thing Paige knew it was midnight and she was half-asleep on their bed. Laundry completely evaporated from her brain.
“Shit,” she said softly. “Az, I’m sorry. I’ll do it right after practice. Promise.”
Azzi set her mug down a little harder than necessary. “You know we have that dinner with the book club today, right? That red shirt you liked is still in the laundry. I told you that.”
“Just pick another one,” Paige said, trying to light up the mood. “You’ve got so many clothes, anyways.”
Azzi’s eyes narrowed. “I already picked that one out days ago because the book club wanted to match together.”
“Well, find another red shirt. Get one from my closet. Jeez, it’s really not that deep, bro.”
The second the word “bro” left her mouth, Paige knew it was the wrong tone. Azzi’s jaw tightened. She didn’t raise her voice. She almost never did, but the quiet that followed was somehow worse.
“Okay,” Azzi said finally. She turned and walked toward the bedroom without another word.
Paige stood there holding her coffee, feeling like the world’s biggest idiot. She heard the closet door open, the soft rustle of hangers, then the zipper of a duffel bag. A minute later Azzi came back out with her practice bag already packed, the oversized red graphic tee from Paige’s side of the closet stuffed inside. It was one of those vintage band shirts that hung almost to her knees and looked like it belonged on a sixteen-year-old boy rather than a twenty-four-year-old woman.
Azzi didn’t say anything else. She just grabbed her keys and her coffee and headed for the door.
Paige followed, still barefoot. “Azzi—”
“We’re going to be late for practice,” Azzi said, and that was that.
Practice itself was the usual mix of intensity and laughter. Coach had them running drills, then transition work, then a scrimmage. Paige found her rhythm early, chirping the whole time like she always did. Azzi was locked in too but every time Paige drifted near her on the floor, the easy chatter that usually passed between them dried up. Azzi laughed with everyone. She was cracking jokes with the Book Club. But the second Paige came within earshot, her volume dropped.
Paige knew she was in the wrong. Laundry was whatever. But the shirt mattered to Azzi and she shouldn't have brushed it off. She kept glancing over during water breaks, watching Azzi’s profile. Paige’s brain was already spinning thinking of ways to apologize. Flowers? A handwritten card? Doing the laundry for a month, for sure. Maybe even that stupidly expensive candle Azzi always liked.
After the final whistle, the team filtered toward the locker room in loose groups. Paige hung back and waited for Azzi to finish talking to one of the assistant coaches. She was halfway across the court, rehearsing the apology in her head, when the Dallas Wings social media manager appeared with a phone and that usual, bright smile.
“Got a quick one for you two before you head out,” the manager said.
Paige automatically shifted into media mode. Shoulders relaxed, smile easy. Azzi stepped up beside her, still a little stiff.
The manager lifted the camera. “Which teammate would you not let your child date?”
Paige laughed under her breath, already scanning the mental roster. Zaza, probably. The girl was a romantic disaster in the wildest way. She's the kind of person who would take you skydiving on a first date, and Paige doesn't think she enjoys the idea of her kid going skydiving on a first date. Most of the team was married or deep in long-term relationships. Zaza was the obvious, funny answer. Paige opened her mouth.
“Paige,” Azzi said offhandedly and walked straight past the camera toward the tunnel.
Their teammates who were lingering nearby let out a collective, theatrical “Ooooh.” Odyssey's laugh cracked across the court. Alanna had both hands over her mouth, eyes wide with delight.
Paige’s jaw actually dropped. She caught Azzi’s wrist before she could fully disappear and tugged her back into frame.
“What do you mean?” Paige demanded, half laughing, half genuinely stung. “I’m a GREAT girlfriend. Take it back.”
Azzi’s brows lifted. For a second she looked confused, like she was replaying the last ten seconds in her head. Then she laughed and the tension in her shoulders eased for the first time since morning.
“No! Well. Not like that!”
“Yeah! You better explain for the cameras. People are gonna misunderstand this.”
Azzi shook her head, still smiling, cheeks starting to pink. “I meant, like, well. That would be gross!”
Paige’s eyes went wide. “I’m NOT a gross girlfriend, Azzi. What are you talking about?”
“No, no, no!” Azzi waved both hands and glanced at the camera like she could will it to stop recording. “I wouldn’t let my child date you ‘cause... like, that would just be so wrong! It would probably be illegal, right?”
Paige’s brain stalled. Completely. She stared at Azzi, brows furrowed, trying to connect the dots.
Behind them, AC’s voice rang out. “Don’t even start thinking about kids before she gets you a ring, Fudd.”
Jess added, laughing, “You talking about kids now? She's sixteen!”
And then it clicked.
Oh.
Oh.
Azzi wasn’t saying Paige was a bad partner. She was saying that any kid of hers — any future, hypothetical, years-down-the-line kid — would also be Paige's. Dating would definitely be gross. Wrong. Illegal.
Paige felt heat rush up her neck so fast. Her mouth opened, closed, opened again. Azzi was watching her carefully now. The earlier irritation was gone and replaced by a teasing smile. An olive branch held out under the fluorescent lights and a phone camera.
“I was gonna say Zaza,” Paige answered, still looking at Azzi, “but like…” She smiled, small and private even with the whole team listening. “Yeah. Azzi’s not dating any of my kids for sure.”
Paige’s face hurt from smiling. She couldn’t help it. The morning argument suddenly felt tiny and ridiculous next to the picture Azzi just casually painted. Kids. Their kids. Someday.
Azzi walked back to the locker rooms, dragging Paige along.
"You sure you wanna keep that in?" Paige asked. “That’s going to blow up the internet.”
Behind them, Alanna agreed that Zaza was the right answer. Zaza was loudly protesting that she would make an excellent girlfriend and daughter-in-law. The moment dissolved into the usual post-practice chaos, but Paige barely heard any of it. She was still looking at Azzi.
"Why?" Azzi teased. "Scared the internet will see you so red?"
They made it to the locker room. Paige waited until most of the team filtered toward the showers before she crossed the space and stopped in front of Azzi’s stall. Azzi was pulling the oversized red graphic tee out of her bag. The fabric was wrinkled from being stuffed in earlier. She held it up, made a face, then glanced at Paige.
“It’s kind of ugly,” Azzi said quietly. "It's the only other red shirt we had in our closets."
“It is kinda ugly. I have such a shitty taste. You deserve better,” Paige agreed enthusiastically. "You'd still look good in it, though."
Azzi laughed, "Okay, you're doing too much."
Paige took a step closer. “I’m sorry about this morning. I should’ve done the laundry. And I shouldn’t have brushed it off like that.”
Azzi’s shoulders dropped. She set the tee aside and reached out, fingers catching the hem of Paige’s practice shirt. “I overreacted. I'm already stressed about the next game and the dinner thing felt stupidly important and then I got in my head about it. I know you didn’t mean to forget.”
“Still. I hate when you’re all quiet with me.” Paige’s voice softened. “I know you're pretty quiet anyway, but I get special treatment, right?”
Azzi tugged her closer until Paige's front was flush against hers. “Of course. Mother of my child definitely gets special treatment.”
Paige made a strangled sound somewhere between a laugh and a groan. “You can’t just say that so casually. My heart’s still recovering.”
Azzi’s smile turned shy, “You started thinking about it though, didn’t you?”
“Obviously.” Paige leaned down, resting her forehead against Azzi’s. “Which is insane, by the way. We’re twenty-four.”
“Twenty-four is a perfectly reasonable age to have a hypothetical conversation about future children,” Azzi said thoughtfully. “You're doing laundry for a month, just so you know.”
“Duh.” Paige kissed her once softly, then again just because she could.