And in that warmth—held tight, completely safe, wrapped in the quiet strength of his arms—I finally let myself drift to sleep.
***
A soft kiss on my shoulder is the first thing I feel before I even open my eyes.
“Good morning, baby girl,” Elijah whispers, his voice still low and sleep-rough. He sounds like warmth and home.
I stretch beneath the blankets, still wrapped in his shirt and the lingering safety of the night before. I don’t open my eyesright away. I just hum, basking in the feel of his body against mine.
“Are you awake?” he asks gently.
“Mmm… maybe.”
“Liar.” His lips brush the curve of my neck. “You always make that sound when you’re trying not to smile.”
I let the tiniest grin slip, and his arms tighten around me from behind. We lie there like that for a while—bodies tangled, the world still quiet. No rush. No pressure. Just warmth.
Eventually, he shifts. “Stay right here. I’m making coffee.”
“You spoil me,” I mumble sleepily.
He leans over to kiss my forehead. “That’s the whole point.”
He disappears into the kitchen, and I hear the familiar hum of the machine. A few minutes later, he’s back—with a mug in each hand.
“For you, my sleepy little coffee addict,” he teases, handing me the mug.
I take it eagerly, letting the smell of strong black coffee and sugar wrap around my senses. “No cream?”
“Never.” He smirks. “As if I’d mess up your sacred ritual.”
I take a sip, closing my eyes in bliss. “You’re dangerously close to earning extra snuggles for this.”
“Oh no,” he says, mocking dramatically. “Not extra snuggles. How will I ever survive?”
He sets his mug down and crawls back into bed, pulling me into his lap effortlessly. “I think I deserve a little reward, don’t you?”
“Reward?” I raise an eyebrow.
“For being the best Daddy ever.”
I pretend to think about it. “Hmm. Maybe one forehead kiss.”
“Just one?” He grins and leans in anyway, brushing the softest kiss across my skin. “I’ll work for the rest.”
I giggle and snuggle in closer as I sip my coffee. “You already have them.”
We sit like that for a while—his hand rubbing slow circles on my back, my head tucked under his chin, coffee warming our hands and the morning unfolding quietly around us.
And for once, everything feels just right.
***
We’re curled up on the couch, our second coffee mugs long empty and forgotten on the table, Elijah’s fingers trace lazy circles on my arm. The quiet hum of the morning stretches out around us like a soft blanket.
Still curled up on the couch, our fingers intertwined, Elijah’s voice breaks the comfortable silence. “So, what should we do this weekend, baby girl?”
I smile, thinking it over. “This morning, definitely the farmers’ market. I want to grab some fresh bread—maybe that sourdough you liked last time—and those quirky jams. You know, the raspberry-lavender one you said was weird but good.”
