The volume is too low for me to hear Jerry’s belted response from some other room.
“Willow,” I say. I need her attention. “I need to go. He’s making breakfast.”
She sucks in a breath. “Breakfast! Does that mean?—”
“Hush,” I say. “He always makes breakfast!”
“But I need more. There was kissing and …”
“And I’ll text you later. Love you!” I say, and then I hang up on my best friend. It’s fine. She can complain to Jerry to get it all out of her system.
I hurry out into the kitchen, anxious to see my husband. Wow, that word hits differently this morning.
Crap.Why didn’t I brush my teeth before coming out here? Why does Roman always look like he’s ready for a calendar photoshoot? He’s ready to be Mr. December right out of bed. My personal Roman Empire.
His eyes dart my way. “Good morning,” he says.
“Morning,” I say, swallowing down my morning breath.
Roman—wonder boundary boy—steps over to me, lifts a hand to the side of my cheek, sliding it over my skin until I am covered in goosebumps and his fingertips are nestled into my hair. “Did you sleep well?” Leaning in, he presses a kiss to my forehead, his thumb tracing the pad of my bottom lip.
My eyes stay glued to his face, and my lips stay firmly shut.
“Is this …” The pressure of his hand cupping my cheek lessens. “Okay? I shouldn’t assume?—”
“It’s okay,” I say, pressing a hand over his, keeping him in place. Gosh, I am torn between wanting to keep him close and wanting to run to scrub the nighttime grime from my teeth.
“Maybe we could go out tonight? Like a date?” he asks, and my stomach becomes a circus of flying trapeze artists.
I never imagined Roman,my husband, would want to date me.
“That would be nice.”
“Perfect,” he says, before letting his touch fall away.
My heart pounds in my chest.
“I’ll be right back. Start without me,” Roman says, another small peck to my head.
He’s set two plates with hashbrowns and bacon on the table.
My phone pings in my PJs pocket, and I pull it out, certain Willow isn’t done yelling at me. But it’s Rosalie.
Rosalie: Hey. Remember how you said maybe you could teach my grammy to use a pottery wheel?
Another ping before I can respond.
Rosalie: See, she and my grandpa are doing this homemade gift thing for each other. And, well, I was telling her about my gift idea for her, and she decided she didn’t want to wait until after Christmas. She wants it now. To make my grandpa something. Would that be okay?
Rosalie: You can say no. We’ll still be friends.
I reread her messages, smirking at the sweetness of two elderly people giving each other homemade gifts. Rosalie’s grandma sounds like a kindred spirit. And Roman has put me in the best mood of my life. Which means, I hit reply without much thought.
Me: Does today work? Two?
I glance at the clock on Roman’s wall before hitting send. It’s nine in the morning. I’ll have a couple hours to prep, and we’ll have a few hours to play in the clay before I go out with Roman.
Rosalie: I actually took half the day off for a dentist appointment this morning. So today, two will work! You are a literal angel, Stella! Grammy is excited!
