Jake

Were half past eight. You were cleaning the kitchen, alone at home. Jake had gone out to buy dinner and was due back in minutes. You felt the front door open and he arrived. He left the bags on the counter and walked straight towards you. He had a nice bouquet of flowers in his hands.

"I love ya, my queen. A lot."

He murmured in a low and slightly hoarse voice. He approached, hugged you around the waist and hid his face in your neck, with a little smile. You found it strange, since he almost never greeted you with physical contact. What was so much affection for? Oh, sure, tomorrow was your birthday.