Penelope pov

"You make me better too," I point out, squeezing his fingers. "You believed in me when I didn't believe in myself."

We finish breakfast and clean up together, our movements synchronized—he rinses while I load the dishwasher, the warm water steaming between us. Then my phone rings, vibrating across the counter with an insistent buzz.

"I should take this," I say, wiping my damp hands on a dish towel.

Timothy nods, pressing a quick kiss to my temple. "I'll give you privacy."

I ...