"Baby, you could choose every time. I'm just happy to spend time with you."
The name slips out before I even realize. Her eyes widen, a little surprised, but then she reaches up and cups my face in both hands, pulling me down to kiss her. I go willingly, gladly,happily, kissing her like it's the only thing I want to do. And it is.
"We can talk more tomorrow," I murmur when we finally part, her eyes already heavier than before. "I want to talk with you... about us. About everything. About where we're going. Okay?"
"Okay," she whispers, a sleepy smile on her lips. The smileslips slightly, "Callum?"
"Yes, sweet girl?" I shift a little closer to her, and she reaches out, tangling our fingers together. I lift her hand to my lips and hold it there. "What do you need?"
"Do you have..." she trails off, looking a little unsure. I can't abide by that, so I gently cup her cheek and lift her gaze back to mine. I hate the uncertainty in her voice, in her expression.
"Tell me what you need, Sophie."
"An electric razor," she whispers.
An electric razor. The meaning behind her words is clear to me immediately—she wants to shave her head, to let go of the hair, and to take control in return. I smile, cupping her face with my hand and brushing my thumb along her cheekbone. She leans into the contact, sleepy and dreamy, and it helps wipe the worried expression on her face.
I will go out first thing and get one just for her—the best one I can find.
"Do you want me to bring it tomorrow?"
She nods her head, eyes shimmering. The sight of her tears hurts me, and I lower my voice.
"Do you want me to do it?"
“I don’t want to miss any spots, and..." A tear slips, and I brush it away. Her voice is a whisper now, "I don't want to do it alone, and... I trust you."
Her trust.
That is the most valuable thing I have, willeverhave.
I press a lingering kiss on her forehead and feel the tension melt from her body as she relaxes deeper into the bed.
"Anything you need."
"Thank you," she whispers, exhaling a shaky breath. I tuck the covers tighter around her and brush my fingers against her cheek.
"Get some sleep. I'll see you tomorrow."
"Text me when you get home," she mumbles, eyes closing already. I stifle my laughter, knowing she's going to be fast asleep long before I get home.
"I promise," I stand slowly, reluctant to leave her but knowing she needs her rest. Switching off her bedside lamp, I whisper, "Goodnight, my otter."
It's not till I'm at the door that I hear her response, her voice dreamy and thick with sleep.
"Goodnight, my otter."
???
"Are you ready?"
I glance over toward Sophie's voice—and promptly drop the box in my hands that hits the hardwood floor with a loud plunk. She's giggling, no doubt at the struck dumb look on my face and my butterfingers. I crouch to pick up the electric razor box, averting my eyes from the reason I'm blushing like a teenager.
Sophie stands in the doorway of her bedroom, hatless and shoeless, looking so adorable in a frilly white tank top with tiny red hearts and matching pants. It's a really lovely little set, revealing more skin than I've ever seen on her before. I can even see the port on her chest for the first time, a little circular bump under her skin. She's so soft and strong, and I feel a wave of awe wash over me.
God, she's beautiful.
"Y-Yeah, I'm ready," I manage, walking toward her and clearing my throat. "Are you ready?"
