Clay brought me breakfast in bed for our first anniversary — bacon, cinnamon toast, and a surprise road trip. I thought he was finally ready to move on from his past. But somewhere between the cornfields and quiet stares, I realized this trip wasn’t about me at all.
I woke to the smell of bacon — crispy, smoky, and rich — and something sweet, like cinnamon melting into warm toast.
It wrapped around me like a blanket. For a moment, I thought I was dreaming.
That kind of breakfast doesn’t just happen. Not on a normal Wednesday. Not without a reason.