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The wonderful staff has wine-soaked marshmallows prepared for us to roast and a full outdoor dining experience in the form of a buffet.

“Have you gotten any better at toasting marshmallows?” Gavin asks, with a smile.

“There is nothing wrong with how I roast marshmallows.”

“You literally set them on fire, wait until they’re charred, and then blow the fire out.”

“They taste good that way!”

“No,” Gavin insists. “There’s an art to it. You want it golden brown and evenly cooked.”

“Well, if you’re such an expert, you can do it and feed them to me.”

Gavin chuckles. “I should have seen that one coming.”

I snag a blanket and then sit in an Adirondack chair by a fire pit where we won’t have any neighbors, while Gavin gets a plate full of marshmallows and a skewer.

“Is someone hungry?” I tease.

“Just wait and see how many plates I’m going to get at the buffet. These sugar globs aren’t even going to scratch the surface. Only you would make me eat dessert first.”

Gavin sits beside me, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, while he slowly rotates a marshmallow in the flame. He’s staring at it like it’s the most interesting thing in the world, and he’s millions of miles away.

“What are you thinking?” I ask softly.

“Nothing,” he says quickly, turning to give me a grin that he’s only half-invested in.

“Tell me.”

“Just about food. You know me, either hungry or horny. Nothing important.”

“Gav…”

He sighs and brings a perfectly toasted marshmallow to my lips. I take a bite and it’s like an orgasm in my mouth. A mouthgasm. Why the hell didn’t I ever think about soaking all my food in wine?

“I know you just pretend to be an incompetent marshmallow toaster so I’ll do it for you,” he jokes.

“Well, you’re not wrong. But tell me what you’re thinking. Please.”

“You weren’t distracted by the sugar rush or secondary source of alcohol?”

“Nope.”

The sun is starting to set and the sky is painted in red, orange, and yellow streaks above the endless vineyards. It could be a postcard, and I’m lucky enough to actually be here.

“Honestly, babe, I was just thinking about routines. So many couples look forward to the grand gestures they have to save up for. The big anniversary trip. The expensive holiday gifts. The second home or fully loaded SUV.”

He’s basically just described suburbia and what most working adults are striving toward achieving so they can brag at the next dinner party.

I’ve always thought there must be more to life than working it away to buy material possessions, and I’m not surprised that we’re on the same page.

“There’s so much time wasted waiting for the good parts that they miss what’s right in front of them,” Gavin says.

“A routine?”

“Yeah.” He shrugs a big shoulder like it’s no big deal, but I love when he gives me deep glimpses into his mind and what matters most to him. “It’s the series of moments that make up a life. Like the way you greet me with a kiss when I come home from working all day.

“It’s how we share meals together and make that time count without any distractions. It’s having fun while grocery shopping, finding joy while staying home cuddled up together on the couch, it’s regular date nights, it’s hot, filthy sex that’s mind-blowing for both of us.