Page 60 of Oblivious

“It got ridiculous if I recall correctly,” I muse.

“Reallysilly.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less from you.” I kiss him softly.

“Not that it helped us come up with a name,” Fitz says. “Then you picked up a teacup, stuck your pinkie finger out, and asked me if I’d like a spot of tea in your poshest voice.”

“And you stared at me for about half an hour.”

Fitz playfully smacks me across the chest. “It was not that long.”

“Ten minutes, then.”

He glares at me through narrowed eyes, but the smirk on his lips diminishes his annoyance.

“Five?” I offer.

He rolls his eyes.

“You stared at me forfiveminutes, clicked your fingers, and shouted, ‘that’s it’!”

He steps back and brushes his hands over his spotty apron. “Do you know why I picked this shade of pink?”

“Because it doesn’t clash with your hair?”

He gives me a scathing look. “Because it reminded me of cherry blossom, which will always remind me of you.”

My heart skips at his words. “And the mint green?”

“They go together.”

He turns around and switches the stand mixer on. The mechanical whir fills the kitchen with noise.

“You like mint,” I whisper into his ear.

“I do.”

“I’m pretty sure mint green isyourfavourite colour.”

“It is.” He sighs. “I think part of me always knewwebelonged together.”

“Like cherry blossom pink and mint green?”

“Yeah, exactly like that.” He laughs. “I hoped our Valentine’s Day pact would extend into old age. Not that I was hoping you’d still be single then, but you know…if we both were…”

He turns the stand mixer off so I spin him around. Then I hold my pinkie finger out.

“I’m willing to make that pact with you.”

He stares at my pinkie finger, eyes narrowed slightly. “But neither of us is single.”

I grin. “That’s what makes it an easy pact to make, Fitz. I promise to spend my old age with you and every day before it. I can’t imagine my life without you in it. You’re my bestie.”

“Bestie? I thought only teenagers usedthatword.”

“Teenagers and us.” I lean down to kiss him. “You’re my bestie and the man I want to grow old with. Promise to grow old with me, Fitz?”

He links his pinkie finger with mine. “I promise.” He clears his throat. “I need to bake.”