“I don’t know what you mean,” I murmur with a smile, tucking my nose behind his ear. He smells like books, like sunshine, and I sigh contentedly before pressing a kiss to the side of his neck.

“I’m just standing here,” I add, pulling him tighter against me. Warmth flares in my belly and it’s almost a surprise. I haven’t felt it in weeks, too consumed by guilt and grief, and I squeeze Oliver’s hand, sliding our joined fingers up under his sweater. “You’re just very handsome when you feed me.”