“I didn’t know you were home.” He walks into the kitchen to join me, taking one of the beers from the door of the fridge I’m still holding open. Him not greeting me with a kiss isn’t a surprise; he’s never been overly affectionate, and I’ve never minded, since he’s shown he cares in other ways.

“I tried to call you to ask you to come help me bring up the groceries.” I shut the door after putting the last beer inside.

“Sorry, I didn’t hear my phone.” He leans back against the counter across from me and unscrews the lid with a flick of his wrist. “Is there anything left in your car?”

“No, I got it all.” I lean back against the counter behind me and cross my arms over my chest. “Were you able to get to the post office for me?”

“Shit.” His eyes lock on mine and fill with remorse. “I totally spaced it. I’m sorry, Emma.”

“It’s fine. I’ll go tomorrow before work.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” I don’t bother pointing out there’s nothing he can do about it anyway. It’s already after six, so the post office is closed, meaning I can’t get the package he was supposed to pick up.

“What are we doing for dinner?” He reaches up toward my face and tucks a piece of hair behind my ear before he lets his hand fall away.

“We’re supposed to have dinner with Mica and Lynn tonight, remember?”

“Oh, right,” he mutters, and I press my lips together.

“You forgot the dinner with your friends that you planned?”

“No, I remembered.”

“Sure, you did.” I roll my eyes, and he smiles.

“Where are we meeting them again?”

“Seriously?” I laugh, and he chuckles. “We’re meeting them down the block at that new Mexican restaurant that opened last week—” I glance at the clock on the wall. “in thirty minutes, so you have just enough time to change.”

“Are you saying my outfit isn’t going to cut it?”

“I didn’t say it. You did.” I smile, and he laughs, taking his beer with him as he walks toward the bedroom.

I follow and take Dolly out of her pen before going to our room and placing her on the bed. I go to the closet to change out of the top I wore to work today, since it smells like the hair salon, which isn’t bad but also isn't great, and put on a sweater, leaving on my heels and jeans.

“Is this good?” He walks out of his closet, wearing a button-down shirt and jeans. Built like a linebacker, he’s always had trouble finding clothes that fit his oversized frame. But as a shopper, I’ve upped his wardrobe game ever since we got together.