“Literally nothing could go wrong.” Oliver strong arms me in closer and I toss a leg over his thigh, smiling at the intimate press of my mostly soft, sticky thigh against his hip.

“Mm, that’s a good question,” I reply, brow furrowing as I think about it. I had pictured us out somewhere when I said it, but the idea of delivery is an appealing one. Perhaps too appealing…

“But do you think we’ll actually get out of bed to go somewhere if we drink mimosas in it?” I ask seriously. “If any syrup or powdered sugar gets on you, our plans are toast.”