“I don’t think the twins will mind what flavor their birthday cake is,” Milo said, kissing the side of my head as I frowned at my laptop screen. “They’re a year old, they’ll be happy with anything. And you don’t have to do it. There are plenty of places we can get—”
“No,” I said. “I’m making them birthday cakes. I’m making them a cake each every single year.”
Milo sighed, turning my head with his knuckles and bending down again to catch my lips, fingers sliding into my hair as he deepened the kiss. I hummed into his mouth, more than happy to kiss him instead of agonizing over what kind of cake two one-year-olds would like most. There was always regular birthday cake, with vanilla and sprinkles. Maybe that was the right call.
“You smell good,” I said, distracted by Milo’s cologne. He was still in sweats, which was fine, because I was still in bed. Sundays were always lazy, and I loved them all the more for it. “Going somewhere?”
“No,” Milo said, but the way he said it made me instantly suspicious that he was up to something.
Or maybe he’d just forgotten what day of the week it was post-shower. Wouldn’t have been the first time.
I loved that he’d lost all sense of time, like the rest of Otter Bay. That he was so relaxed here. That he’d sank into the life we had together and obviously loved every minute of it.
I’d never get tired of seeing him so rested and happy.
“Well, you smell good anyway,” I said, closing my laptop and setting it aside, grabbing a handful of the antique band t-shirt he’d stolen from me months ago. “Come back to bed?” I asked, brushing my mouth against his, letting the tip of my tongue graze his lower lip.
He let me pull him down to sit in my lap, biting at my mouth and gasping as I slid my hands under his—my—ourt-shirt, still as eager to be touched as he had that first time.
I loved the way he loved my hands, my mouth. I lovedhim. More today than I had back then. Just when I thought it was impossible to love anyone any more completely than I loved Milo, he always found a way to surprise me.
I loved that, too.
I also loved the way he squeaked when I shoved my hand into the back of his sweats and grabbed a handful of his gorgeous ass.
“Come back to bed,” I repeated against his lips. We didn’t have anywhere else to be—not until tonight, when we were going to his mom’s house for dinner and the twins’ birthday party—and I wanted to take advantage of the empty morning stretching ahead of us.
But Milo pulled back.
“Hang on,” he said. “I have. I need to, umm. There’s something… I’ll be right back.”
Then he clambered off the bed, all limbs as always, leaving me cold.
Whatever it was, I wasn’t sure it was more important than climbing back under the covers with me and making out until lunch time.
When Milo came back, it was with the new kitten—Aster—in hand. We’d just started doing flowers as our naming theme now that we’d worked our way through the alphabet with the space theme, in honor of Dawn, and Milo’s newfound love of floristry. She joked that he was her apprentice, and I secretly loved watching him play with flowers, lost in his own world, humming to himself.
I loved every single thing about him, everything he ever did.
“I know she’s going to her new home tonight,” Milo said, setting the three-legged tortoiseshell sweetheart down in my lap. “But I thought one more snuggle?”
“Next door,” I pointed out. “She’s only going next door. You’ll see her every day.”
“I know,” he said. “I just… I’ll be back in a second. Could you double check I put the right name tag on her collar?”
I raised an eyebrow at him, but his back was already turned, disappearing out of the bedroom again. Something was up, and I didn’t know what it was.
I’d talk to him about it. Whatever it was, we could figure it out together. We’d figured everything else out.
I sighed and picked Aster up, snuggling her close to my chest and smiling as she purred. The world always seemed brighter with a purring kitten.
“You’re gonna take care of your new sisters, okay?” I told her. “They’ll need you.”
Aster rubbed her head against my hand, giving me access to her tag.
I squinted at it, then lifted her closer to my face to read it more carefully.
Oh. It.
