“I’ll run the bath for you and take a quick shower.”
I tense, and he notices. He always notices.
“It won’t take long. Could you make us omelets?”
I perk up. I love cooking for him.
After the omelets, I’m soaking in bubbles and pure contentment.
I’m also snorting like an obnoxious sea otter, teasing Caspian about his obsession with me.
I mean—the man started planning a kitchen makeover after the second time he saw me.
“I hissed at you,” I say, wiggling my toes happily, “and you wanted to build me a kitchen.”
“Your hissing made an impression.”
“I hope you realize we need a bigger bookshelf.”
“Jørgen can build us one.”
“In the living room?”
“Anywhere you want.”
I nod. I want it in the living room.
“I have a book that opens up like a medieval castle,” I tell him. “It takes up a lot of space.”
“I’m sure Jørgen can factor it in.”
“Where will all my clothes go?”
“In the closet,” he says mildly. “Where half of them already are.”
“My Funko Pops matter to me.”
Caspian looks at me adoringly.
“I didn’t know you had Funko Pops.”
“I talk about them all the time!”
“Name one occasion when you’ve mentioned a Funko Pop.”
I splash water on him.
“I haven’t necessarily talked about them out loud,” I say huffily.
“That explains it.”
A thought occurs to me.
“Would you tattoo my name on your forehead?”
“I would not.”
“I thought you were sure about us. You’re sending me mixed signals, Caspian.”
