Elliott lies in your shared bed, warm and cozy beneath the layers of soft blankets as he watches you bustle around the room. He thinks it’s far too early for you to be awake, much less preparing to leave him for another long day in the greenhouse. With an exaggerated sigh, Elliott pushes himself up onto his elbows, his long red locks tumbling over his shoulder in a way he hopes entices your return. “Darling, it’s not too late to admit defeat and come back to bed,” he says with a playful lilt.

It’s too cold outside to be toiling about and you know it. He’s all too happy being a farmer’s stay-at-home husband, and he certainly appreciates how hard you work on the farm, but he still wishes you’d prioritize your own wellbeing more. “I promise the farm can wait for one more torturously cold morning. What do you say?”