The next morning, I woke to the soft light of dawn filtering through the curtains. Lise was still asleep, her arm draped lazily across my waist, her face peaceful. I smiled, enjoying the rare moment of calm before the inevitable rush of the day began.
My fingers traced the outline of her jaw gently, not wanting to wake her just yet. It was one of those rare mornings when everything felt like it was in perfect harmony.
That is, until I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror on the wall opposite the bed. I squinted, then my eyes widened in horror.
Hickeys. Several of them. Dark, blooming purples and reds, scattered across my neck and collarbone like some kind of embarrassing road map of the night before.
I slapped a hand over my mouth, suppressing the giggle that was bubbling up inside me. Of course, the evidence of our "relaxing" evening would be so obvious.
"Lise," I whispered, nudging her shoulder.