"Oregano comes after nutmeg, not before it. Basic rules of civilization."
He steps so close that I can smell the soap he uses and see the small scar near his left temple that I've started tracing with my thumb when we're lying in bed talking about nothing important.
"What other basic rules am I violating?"
"You fold your towels wrong. You put the toilet paper on the roll backward. And you have seventeen different kinds of tea but no proper tea strainer."
"Seventeen?"
"I counted."
His laugh rumbles low, the kind that means he's genuinely amused rather than politely entertained. The difference matters. I've learned to recognize the space between courtesy and actual pleasure, between someone tolerating my presence and someone enjoying it.
"I suppose you have opinions about proper tea strainer specifications."
"Obviously. Mesh density, handle ergonomics, the whole thing."
"Of course you do."
He sets his mug on the counter and moves close enough that I have to tilt my head back to meet his eyes. He's tall and I like the way he looks at me when I'm close enough to touch.
"You realize you're nesting."
"I'm organizing."
"You bought curtains for the bedroom window."
"The morning light was aggressive."
"You programmed the coffee maker."
"Efficiency."
His hands settle on my hips, thumbs caressing me through my sweater. The touch is casual, automatic, the kind of contact that happens when two people have stopped thinking about where their bodies are in relation to each other.
"You put your name on my mailbox."
I pause, caught. "That's practical. I get mail here now."
"Mmm."
The sound carries approval and something deeper—satisfaction, maybe, or relief. Like he's been waiting for me to claim space.
"Plus someone needs to make sure you don't accidentally poison yourself with expired spices."
"My spices aren't expired."
"Your paprika is from 2019."
"That's not that old."
"Caleb."
"Fine. Maybe I need better spice management."
I stretch up to kiss him, quick and light, tasting coffee and the faint mint of his toothpaste. When I pull back, his eyes have that soft, focused look that still makes my stomach flutter even though I know now that it's not going anywhere.
"I love you too, by the way."