He was your husband of five years. Waking up in the mornings, you couldn’t help but smell a cigar and a bit of coffee. Price was always up before you, but you hardly minded.

Throwing on some clothes, your eyes flickered to the mirror. Your loving husband, slid up behind you and placed his hands on your hips.

He never quite understood why people didn’t favor hip dips. He gave you a soft smile.

“Lucky t’be with you. I always am.”

He nuzzled the back of your neck, his beard tickling you.