Page 59 of Bedtime Stories
“Cold brew?” he asks, nodding toward the glass.
I fight off a blush, guilty as charged.
“I ate salty pond scum squares first!”
He just smiles, settling beside me at the counter, taking in the puzzle pieces with that patient, fond look that always makes me feel… small, cherished, and completely seen.
Keane’s fingers skim over the puzzle pieces, then he leans closer, picking one up and letting it hover over the board like a magician.
“Think this goes here?” he asks, his deep voice low, teasing.
I nod, hands brushing his as I take the piece from him. The contact sends a shiver straight through me, and I catch myself grinning like a fool.
“Yep. Perfect.”
We work side by side, quietly bantering, swapping pieces, until the last one snaps into place. I step back, puffing out my chest.
“Ta-da!”
“Ta-da indeed,” Keane says, his eyes soft as he watches me. Before I can react, he leans in and brushes a quick, sweet kissover my lips. My pulse skips. “Puzzle master,” he murmurs against my mouth, then chuckles.
I laugh, brushing my hands over my face, suddenly shy.
“Don’t—don’t make me blush, Daddy.”
He just grins, leaning closer again, thumbs brushing over my knuckles.
“I could stay here all day, helping my boy finish puzzles… or anything else he wants.”
I catch my breath, leaning into him, the warmth of his body pressing against mine.
“Anything else?” I murmur.
His hand drifts to the small of my back, making me buzz from the contact.
“Yeah. Everything,” he says simply, his gaze locking with mine. “But only at your pace. Always at your pace.”
A quiet sigh escapes me, relief and longing tangled together. I know the trust is there—I can feel it—but the playful, teasing closeness is just as intoxicating. He’s patient, he’s steady, and somehow, in the middle of my kitchen, leaning over a completed jigsaw puzzle, it feels like the most insulated place in the world.
The puzzle’s done,the cold brew nearly gone, and my stomach reminds me it’s time for something more substantial than a sad desk snack. I glance at Keane, whose brow quirks when he notices me fidgeting near the fridge.
“Thinking about dinner?”
“Yeah,” I admit, a bit shy. “I feel like… adult food, maybe? But, like, not too fancy.”
He grins, stepping closer. “Adult food. Got it. I can whip something up, or we can order in. What’s your vibe?”
I shrug, biting my lip. “Maybe something we can share. Pizza? Or those dumplings we liked last time?”
“Dumplings it is,” he says decisively, pulling his phone out. “I’ll call for delivery. You… set the table?”
I scramble, a mix of nerves and excitement, and start gathering plates, napkins, and silverware. Keane leans against the counter, watching me fumble, smirking as if I’m the most endearing thing he’s ever seen.
“I swear, you make something as simple as setting the table look adorable.”
When the food arrives, I sit cross-legged at the table, watching him unpack boxes and chopsticks. I flounder with mine, drop one, and let out a small groan. Keane’s chuckle fills the kitchen.
“Careful there, puzzle master. Or you’ll end up eating with your hands.”
