“It does.”
We stand there in the doorway, the hallway light spilling around us.
“This is weird,” I admit.
“Married weird?”
“Yes.”
He nods slowly. “Yeah.”
Daisy stretches out and lets out a yawn.
“She picked a side,” he says.
“She picked carpeting.”
He chuckles and looks at me a few seconds longer than necessary.
“Let’s go,” he says quietly. “If we’re both awake, we might as well own it.”
That sounds far too intimate.
“Yes,” I say anyway.
We move down the stairs together. The house feels larger at night.
He flips on the kitchen light.
“Hot chocolate?” he asks, already reaching for the cabinet like he’s done this a hundred times.
“Sounds great, especially at this hour.” I chuckle and shake my head.
“It’s a wedding night,” he says lightly. “No rules.”
“Fair.”
He pours milk into a saucepan. I lean against the counter, watching him move around his kitchen like it's second nature to him.
When he hands me the mug, our fingers brush.
Electric.
I clear my throat. “Your dad voice came out today.”
He lifts a brow. “When?”
“At lunch. When you told my father I wasn’t a solution. I was a partner.”
He goes still.
“That bothered you?” he asks carefully.
“It did the opposite.”
Something shifts in his expression.
“I meant it,” he says.
