I frowned.
He never forgot that thing.
He never forgot that thing.
I picked it up, meaning to carry it upstairs before he left without it. The screen lit up in my hand.
Last night was perfect.
No name attached. Just four words, glowing on a black screen in my kitchen at seven in the morning.
I stared at it until the screen dimmed on its own. I tapped it once. The notification was already gone.
Upstairs, the bathroom door opened.
I set the watch back down exactly where I’d found it and turned toward the stove just as the bacon started sizzling louder than it needed to.
I set the watch back down exactly where I’d found it.
A few seconds later, Elliot walked into the kitchen, tightening his tie with one hand.
“Morning, Dee.”
“Morning,” I said.
He kissed my forehead, picked up the watch, and fastened it to his wrist without so much as glancing at the screen.
“Something smells amazing.”
“You say that every Thursday, El.”
