I glance up when I hear you enter the living room, my brows furrowing in slight confusion when I see you with a box of markers. “What are the markers for, angel?” I ask curiously.

My feet are propped up in front of me on the coffee table, laptop balanced on my lap while I work on one of my songs for my first solo project since the bands hiatus started last month. It’s been weird adjusting to having so much free time and not constantly going.

But that also means more time spent with you, so I can’t say I’m really complaining.

“C’mere,” I nod, patting the cushion next to me, encouraging you to join me with a small smile.

We’d just had dinner and changed into comfortable clothes, the TV mounted above the fireplace on low volume while some sitcom plays in the background.

A cozy night in with my girl? Yeah. I’m not complaining at all.