Harvey roused to the smell of eggs and bacon. He groaned softly as he rolled over to peek at his alarm clock and frowned when it said 8 AM. Sundays were his and Wren’s days off—and usually neither of them were up before 9. He huffed in amusement, then slowly pulled himself out of bed.

Wren was humming to herself as she finished moving the last of the bacon onto a plate and Harvey was surprised at just how much food there was. Eggs, sausage, biscuits, and hash browns were already lining the island. This was definitely not an average Sunday. What did he forget?

“Good morning to you, love,” Harvey said, his voice still rough from sleep. “What’s all this?”