The golden light of the setting sun poured in through the sliding glass doors, casting a warm glow across the living room floor.

You balanced the tray of mashed potatoes in your hands, the scent of buttery garlic filling the air as Rafe came up behind you.

He gently pressed a palm to the small of your back, his other hand reaching over to grab the platter of grilled salmon and asparagus.

“You always do too much,” he murmured, a crooked smile on his lips as he glanced down at your legs, his boxers hanging low on your hips.

You rolled your eyes but didn’t bother hiding your smile.

The oversized T-shirt you were wearing, one of his old sun-faded ones from high school, slid off one shoulder, your messy bun tilted slightly from all the running around.

“I like cooking for you,” you said quietly, nudging the door open with your hip as he followed close behind, your dinner plates in his hands like they were precious.

The two of you stepped out onto the small wooden balcony, the ocean breeze gentle and salty, making the trees sway just enough to rustle. Your favorite place. String lights lined

The railing, casting a soft golden hue. The table was already set, simple, cozy, intimate.