♥ Amy ♥
For the first time in three days, the house was quiet. No music, no doorbells, no clinking dishes, and no timers. Just the steady tick of the clock on the wall and the soft rustle of the breeze through the slightly open window. It was the 26th, and we had survived Christmas. Barely. I stretched out on the couch and groaned. Every part of me felt heavy and soft at the same time. The kitchen still smelled faintly of turkey and pine cleaner, a strange but familiar mix. A few stray bits of wrapping paper sat under the coffee table, proof of how busy the last few days had been. Caleb came in from the hallway carrying two mugs of tea. He had not bothered to shave this morning, and his hair stuck up in places. Somehow, he still looked unfairly good.
“Here,” he said as he held out one of
