Page 185 of Heal Me, Love Me

But it was ours. Our gear had a place in the hall closet, our shoes stayed lined up by the door, and every night, my keys went into the same bowl. The kitchen stayed clean because neither of us liked living in a messy place, Keaton’s hair products took up more of the bathroom counter than he admitted, and the laundry room always had wraps waiting to be washed or training clothes drying on the rack.

That still caught me off guard sometimes.

Every ordinary part of our lives had started fitting together, and for the first time, I had a home I’d chosen with someone who wanted to share it with me.

I looked at the time on my phone, then set it face down on the counter before I could check it again. As long as traffic didn’t screw me, we had enough time to get to dinner, then to the beach before sunset.

A few seconds later, Keaton came down the hallway with his shoulder-length hair down and still damp from the shower. He wore a dark green button-up with the sleeves rolled to his elbows and black jeans and carried his boots in one hand.

He sat on the couch to pull them on, and I checked the time again before I could stop myself.

“What’s the matter?” he asked.

“I’m making sure we’re not late.”

“We’re never late when you’re in charge.”

“That’s because I check the time.”

His eyes narrowed. “You’re acting weird.”

“I planned a date.”

“I know.” He stood and stepped into the kitchen. “That doesn’t explain why you look like you’re about to brief me on a military operation.”

“I don’t look like that.”

“You absolutely do.”

“I’m taking you to dinner, not planning an extraction.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“You look good,” I told him, because it was true and because distracting him was the only move I had.

“That’s not suspicious at all.”

“I can’t compliment you now?”

“Not when you’re using it to dodge a question.”

“I’m not dodging anything.”

“Then answer it.” He crossed his arms over his chest.

I rolled my eyes. “I’m taking you to dinner.”

“We’ve established that.”

“Then why are you still questioning me?”

“Because you’re being weird.”

“I’m being romantic,” I countered.

“That’s what makes it weird.”

I huffed out a laugh. “Wow. So I can’t be romantic and take my man to dinner and then walk on the beach at sunset?”