Page 118 of Keepsakes and Kismet

My hand reaches for his, tugging it away from my face. “Just give me a second.” I completely face the spray, letting it run down my cheeks. Relief comes swiftly, and I open my eyes once they’re free from suds. “I love you, but please stop taking care of me in this shower.”

He runs his hands through his wet hair. “I just use, like, a three-in-one shampoo, and it takes me two seconds. Sorry.”

“Don’t be. This is exactly how I pictured this going, if I’m honest. That said, respectfully, you need to leave now,” I demand through a smile.

“Alright, alright. Let me just rinse off really quick before I go.” Callum stands under the spray for a moment, quickly soaping up and rinsing. Then he holds open his arms and I walk into them. The drops of water from his hair slide down my cheek, and one clings to the corner of my mouth. I swipe at it with my tongue.

“I’ll get started on some food. Thanks for this,” he says, planting a kiss on my nose.

“For the shower sex?” I giggle. “You’re welcome, honey.”

After washing every bit of soap from my body, I walk into the kitchen wrapped in my robe. The smell of cooked bacon fills the air as I pull a box of waffle mix out of my pantry. “Can you grab the waffle iron for me? It’s in the cabinet above the stove.”

“Sure thing.” Callum reaches for the iron and plugs it into the wall.

“Sorry they won’t be from scratch. This is a controversial take, but I firmly believe if you add a little vanilla extract to waffle or cake mixes, they usually taste better than homemade. It’s probably my third biggest toxic trait.”

Callum stands behind me, chin hooked over my shoulder. “What do you mean by ‘third biggest toxic trait?’ What’re your two bigger toxic traits?”

I shake some mix into a bowl. “The second one is never being able to choose the fastest line.”

“Like at the grocery store?”

“It doesn’t matter where, really. It ranges from the popcorn line at the movie theater to picking the fastest lane of traffic. Distressingly, I always select the slowest line.”

Callum spins me around to face him. “Always? That can’t be true. What if there’s only one person in the line ahead of you?”

“Sure, a line can look the fastest when I choose it. But the line is deceptive. The line plays me. The line makes me look like a fool, Callum.”

He breathes out a laugh. “And why is that a toxic trait?”

I shrug. “Lines are kind of my thing.”

“Mhm.” Callum dips his head to kiss the underside of my chin. “What’s your number one flaw, then? It’s your affinity for apple-bobbing, isn’t it?”

I shake my head, a coy smile on my face.

“Come on, Pey.” He presses his index finger at the base of my neck before softly trailing it down my chest, pausing in between my breasts. “Tell me. I deserve to know.”

“Don’t be a temptress, Callum. I’m never telling you.” I pinch my finger and thumb together, then drag it across my mouth, like my lips are sealed.

Callum gently tugs on the belt of my robe. After it’s loosened enough, he reaches in and places his hand on the small of my back. “What if your biggest flaw is something that will negatively impact me?”

I snort. “Like what? A compulsion to lick raw chicken?”

“Why—how did you just come up with that? You’re not serious, right?” A cute line forms in between Callum’s eyebrows, and I smooth it out with my thumb.

“Nope.”

“It’s only a matter of time before it surfaces,” he says teasingly.

“Maybe. But not today, Inspector.”

“Hm,” he says, rubbing my lower back.

I go on my tip-toes to kiss his smile. “How’re you feeling about tomorrow?”

He reties my robe for me. “Obviously, I’m nervous. But there’s also this excitement, too. And not just to contribute to the cause. But to actually play soccer again. Just hope I’ll be able to do it once I get there.”