"Go from sleepy disaster to fully functional veterinarian in under ten minutes."
"Practice. Also, I keep emergency provisions in my bathroom for exactly this scenario."
"You have a lot of men sleeping over who make you late for work?"
She shoots me a look that could strip paint. "You're the first overnight guest Biscuit's had to judge in over a year, so don't get cocky."
"Too late. Already cocky."
"I noticed."
The coffee maker gurgles to life, and Callie leans against the counter, watching me with an expression I can't quite read. Not regret. Not uncertainty. Something softer than that.
"So," she says.
"So."
"Last night happened."
"It did. Multiple times, if memory serves."
Her cheeks flush pink, and it's adorable. "Are we doing the awkward morning-after thing? Because I'm not great at that."
"What would the awkward morning-after thing involve?"
"Pretending we need to 'talk about what this means' and making promises we're not sure we can keep and generally ruining a perfectly good time with overthinking."
I cross the small kitchen and cage her against the counter, hands braced on either side of her hips. "I don't need to pretend anything. Last night was the best night I've had. I want more nights like it. Preferably consecutive."
"Consecutive," she repeats, like she's testing the word.
"Yeah. Like, all of them. Every night."
"That's ambitious."
"I'm an ambitious guy."
She reaches up and fixes my collar, which has somehow ended up half-tucked, half-untucked.
I'm done for. Completely gone. A woman fixes my collar and I'm ready to propose.
"I want that too," she says quietly. "But we should probably figure out the logistics before you start planning our lives together."
"Who says I'm planning our lives together?"
"You've got this look. Like you're mentally arranging furniture."
"I don't have a look."
"You absolutely have a look." The coffee maker beeps, and she ducks under my arm to pour two mugs. "Just black, right?"
She remembered. I mentioned it once, maybe twice in passing.
I'm keeping her.
"Right."
We drink coffee in her kitchen while the morning sun climbs higher, and it feels normal. Easy. Like we've been doing this for years instead of hours.
