Connor
The TV was on.
Some rom-com we'd both seen before and were absolutely not watching. It was just noise. Background noise that made the house feel less big.
Edward and I were cuddled on our bed. 'Our' bed. In 'our' bedroom. He was behind me, chest to my back, one arm thrown over my waist like he was afraid I'd float away if he let go. His chin was tucked into the crook of my neck and he smelled like shower gel and that ridiculous candyfloss and jellybeans cologne he's worn since he was nineteen.
I was full. Completely, uncomfortably, happily full.
Two pizza boxes sat abandoned on the coffee table by the little sitting area in our room. One pepperoni and mushroom. One margherita because Edward "needed vegetables." And between them was a cake stand with nothing left on it but crumbs and a smear of cream cheese frosting.
We'd ordered a whole cheesecake to "celebrate." Spoiled ourselves.
