He blinked. “What’s what?”
“That,” she said, pointing—not too low, but low enough.
She squinted playfully, pretending to inspect it. Then, with mock horror, said, “Oh… is that all that’s left?”
For a beat, silence hung in the steam—then Daniel burst into laughter, bracing himself against the doorframe.
“You’re impossible,” he said between laughs.
Emma grinned, tossing the towel at his face. “Consider it payback for last night’s ‘trust me, it’ll fit’ speech.”
He caught it and pulled her close, dripping water onto her shoulders. “Remind me why I married you again?”
“Because I make you laugh,” she said, kissing his chin. “And because no one else would tolerate your sock drawer.”
The Morning Routine
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