Sloane’s POV
I stepped up beside him at the stove, close enough that my arm brushed his. Roman glanced down at me, that half-smile still pulling at his mouth like he couldn’t quite believe I was really standing here in his shirt, barefoot on his kitchen floor. He flipped the eggs with a quick flick of the spatula, then slid two onto a plate and added toast he’d already buttered.
“Here,” he said, handing me the plate first. His voice came out low, a little rough from sleep or maybe from everything we’d said last night. “Eat before it gets cold.”
I took the plate, but instead of sitting at the counter like a normal person, I stayed right there next to him. The first bite was warm and salty and perfect. I made a little sound of approval, and Roman’s shoulders eased down another inch. He wa
