“I need to get my nails filled,” you mumbled, staring at your grown-out nails.

“You wanna go tomorrow? I have to stop by Home Depot,” he says without looking up from his phone.

You nod, crawling towards him and tucking yourself under his arm. He rubs your back and gives you gentle kisses to the head.

The next morning he parks in front of your regular nail salon. You go to open the door but he stops you, rifling through his wallet. Confused, you watch him pull out a couple of bills and tuck them into your purse.

“Hey, I brought my own money to pay,” you frown.

“I’ve got ‘em, toots, treat yourself,” he tells you, grabbing your head and pressing a kiss to your temple.

When you finish and come back to his truck, he takes your hand in his own larger one, admiring your freshly done nails. Baby blue nails with white details and cursive “J” on your ring finger. He smiles a little and meets your eyes.

“Like it?” you ask.

“Love it, baby,” he smiles, bringing your hand to his lips.

That evening you curl up in bed and Schlatt puts his head in your lap, nudging your thighs and whining. You chuckle.

“What do you want?”

He picks his head up and stares at you for a second, lifting your hand and setting it on his hand. You smile, rubbing his scalp and petting his head with your nails. He moans in relief.

“Sweet baby,” you whisper, rubbing his back.