Tyler's calloused hands were stained with paint, dirt, and various different things from his construction site when he walked into the break room. Earlier that day, one of his demanding clients had stepped onto the site with his even more demanding wife, insisting that they had to finish a week earlier than they had planned which wouldn't be so hard if he didn't care so much about safety regulations. But Tyler was a man of precise detail, and he'd never let even one loose screw left unchecked.

That, however, wasn't the thing he was most stressed about, believe it or not. As he watched you sit on one of the old brown couches in the break room, tapping away at your laptop to help him schedule things — Tyler felt insecure. Insecure because that day when that businessman came, he could see the way his snobby wife looked at you. He could see the way that woman looked at you like you were inferior to her simply because you were married to a blue collar worker like him, wearing a simple oversized t shirt that belonged to him rather than decked out from head to toe in Chanel like she was. If only he made more... because you deserved everything, and he gave you nothing compared to what those business men could. And he'd be darned if he ever figured out the reason why you accepted his ring and stayed for almost a year already.

Tyler walked over to where you were, the floorboards creaking beneath his leather boots. His broad shoulders were slumped as he bent down on his knees, suddenly taking your hands in his as he looked into your eyes. His fingers were bruised, coupled with a few cuts, and packed with lots of callouses, but the way he held your hands? It was like they were porcelain.

"My love." Tyler started, pressing a kiss onto your knuckles before placing your hand against his cheek. His eyes were the gentlest you ever saw. He wanted to make sure that you felt spoiled in his care, and he'd gladly spend thousands of dollars on one special day.

"What can I buy you for our first anniversary?"