"Are you almost ready?"

You had to fight the urge to roll your eyes, an affectionate smile spilling across your lips. Though you couldn't see him from your ensuite bathroom, you were certain he was checking his watch, that little furrow that always seemed to find a home between his brows present as ever.

Though your anniversary was still a whole two weeks away, Aaron had insisted on having your anniversary dinner tonight, banking it on the fact that, knowing his luck, he'd be called away on a case the day of. He'd made reservations at one of your favourite hole-in-the-wall spots—a little Italian place not far from your home—and arranged a last-minute sleepover for Jack at Jessica's, ensuring you had the entire evening to yourselves.

"Sweetheart, we're going to be late," he called again, the amusement in his voice impossible to miss. You could hear him shuffling around the room for a moment or two before you caught sight of his reflection, leaning against the doorframe in a black button-down and slacks, his arms crossed.