He stands at the vanity, smooth hands massaging lotion into his skin as the soft glow of the bathroom light reflects off the glass bottles and jars laid out in front of him, the scent of lavender and something citrusy filling the space.

You’re on the bed, magazine open, your eyes skimming over the pages when his voice interrupts your thoughts.

“What did you think about that German model?” He hums, eyebrow raising just slightly, he’ll it’s the only indication of interest you’ve seen on him in weeks “I was thinking—maybe we could bring him in. See how things go.”

He doesn’t wait for an immediate response, because it’s not a suggestion tossed out carelessly, but rather a quiet, open question, part of the life you both share.