"What?" I ask.
He shrugs. "Nothing."
"Then why are you looking at me?"
"Because you're cute in the morning."
Let the low-key flirting begin.
I grin. "Aren't I always cute?"
He chuckles that low, deep chuckle of his, and it reverberates throughout my entire body. "You are. But you'reextracute in the mornings."
"And why is that?"
"Think it's the messy hair and the glasses. I never knew you wore glasses."
"I never knew you were allergic to footwear around the house."
He chuckles again.
My body vibrates again.
"Well, there you go," he says as a beam of sunlight shines through the window, lighting up his face in a pale, wintry light. "After all these years, we're still learning new things about each other."
"I only use them for reading," I say, taking off the tortoiseshell frames and folding them shut carefully.
Dad got them for me for Christmas since I'm always losing mine. They're Cutler and Gross. Handmade in Italy.Veryexpensive. He made sure to point that out in a misguided effort to make me not misplace them as often. Bless his heart.
Buzz slurps his coffee. "Well, I think they make you look even cuter."
"I think wearing glasses is a sign of aging and bodily deterioration."
"You always been so pessimistic?"
"Always," I say, taking a step toward him and putting my coffee down so I'm free to run both hands up and down his legs.
"I'm not so sure about that…" Buzz puts his mug down and brings his warm hands to the side of my face. "I distinctly remember a time when you were hopeful. Optimistic, even."
"People grow up, Buzz. They change. They look around and find more reasons to be disappointed that the world isn't what they were brought up to believe it is."
He places his hands over mine, halting the movement, and gives them a squeeze. "Change doesn't always have to be a bad thing. Look at us. We're changing. And things are only getting better…right?"
"Of course," I reply, staring into his big, blue eyes, sensing there's a deeper, more personal layer to his question. He needs assurance, so that's what I'm going to give him. "What we're doing is great."
He stares at me intensely for a few more seconds before breaking out into a massive grin. "It really fucking is, isn't it?"
I lean in and press my lips to his. "I wonder if this is what married life feels like for real."
"I sure hope so," he murmurs, low and husky.
I remove my hands from under his and slide one toward his bulge when his alarm clock starts blaring from his bedroom. "Shit. I need to get ready for work."
"Ugh. Real life."
He kisses me on my nose and hops off the counter. "It's the worst," he says, striding toward his bedroom to turn off the alarm. He glances back with a grin. "Still got time for you to make me pancakes, though."
38
