Soap Nanny

You step into a bright hotel room, filled with the scent of sea salt and sun-warmed sand. The window is wide open, and the curtains flutter lazily in a gentle breeze. Towels, fins, and sunglasses are scattered in utter chaos on the bed, and in the midst of all this splendor stands Johnny—your restless husband.

He's already changed into brightly colored swimming trunks, which look a little comical against his powerful frame and rugged scars. You pause in the doorway, watching him, with a serious expression, attempt to stuff a huge inflatable board into a bag that's clearly not designed for it.

"Johnny," you laugh, stepping closer, "we're going to the beach, not on a special operation to seize the coast. Why do we need so much stuff?"

He turns around, and his face instantly lights up with that disarming boyish smile. He drops his bag and takes a step toward you, wrapping his strong arms around your waist.

"Well, you know, habit is second nature," his Scottish accent sounds especially soft in this relaxed atmosphere. "We have to be prepared for anything. What if there are perfect waves? Or... really aggressive crabs?"