Thursday morning started the way most of ours did — coffee, bacon, the sound of Elliot shaving upstairs. I packed his lunch while mentally running through the rest of my day. Groceries. A stop at the bookstore. I still hadn't ordered the anniversary gift I'd been agonizing over for weeks.
I reached toward the fruit bowl for a banana. Elliot's watch sat beside it on the counter, charging.
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."
"Because every Thursday you make bacon, honey." He grinned and stole a piece straight from the pan before I could swat his hand away.
He grinned and stole a piece straight from the pan.
Normally I would have swatted him anyway. Instead I just watched him — the exact same man I'd kissed goodnight a few hours earlier, the same man who'd called me around six the previous evening.
"Looks like I'm going to be later than I expected tonight," he'd said on that call.
"Everything okay?"
"Yeah. Just trying to finish something before Friday."
"I'll keep dinner warm."
"I'll make it up to you this weekend."
He'd come home a little after ten. Eaten reheated lasagna. Complained about spreadsheets. Rubbed my shoulders while we watched half a rerun until I fell asleep against him on the couch.
There hadn't been a single moment, at the time, that felt strange.
Until now.
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