The next day arrived slower than Calhoun would have preferred. He and Elena had agreed to search for a restaurant that day, both of them telling old man Porv about their decision. Not that they needed to, but his Elena was too proper and would act any less.
His Elena. He couldn't remember when he started calling her that or how comfortable he had grown with the title. He didn't deny it, though. Elena was his, and he would see that she accepted it.
He rolled off his bed and started preparing for the day, heading straight for his bathroom. After taking a bath, he donned a simple attire and took extra care of his appearance, something he had never had any interest in doing. But if he wished to woo Elena, he had to look better than any man she would ever come across, even the ethereal he-w
