KEIFER POV
The morning sun was peeking through the thin curtains of our apartment, but Jay Jay was acting like it was still midnight. I checked the clock—we were already pushing it if we wanted to be at the diner before the Saturday morning rush.
"Jay, wake up," I said, my voice still raspy from sleep. I nudged her shoulder, but she just let out a tiny, stubborn groan.
"I'm up," she mumbled. Liar. She didn't even open her eyes; instead, she snuggled deeper into my chest, her cold nose pressing against my skin. It was cute, but it was a trap. If I stayed like this for another five minutes, we'd both be late.
"You're not," I teased, trailing my fingers along her side to find her ticklish spot. "Get up before I help you shower."
"Sure," she whispered into my skin, her voice defiant even though she was half-asleep. She probably thought I was bluffing.
I didn't wait any longer. I let out a low chuckle and looped my arms under her legs, hoisting her small frame off the bed in one swift motion.
"Whoa!" she shrieked, her eyes snapping open as she suddenly found herself mid-air. She instinctively locked her arms around my neck, her messy bun lopsided and her face flushed with sleep. "Keifer! Put me down!"
"You said 'sure,' didn't you?" I grinned, carrying her toward the bathroom. "A Watson always keeps his word, and as my wife, you should know that by now."
"I was joking! It's too cold for a shower!" she protested, kicking her legs, but she was smiling.
"Don't worry," I murmured, leaning down to press a quick, firm kiss to her lips to silence her complaints. "I'll make sure the water is warm."
I kicked the bathroom door open, savoring the sound of her laughter bouncing off the tiled walls. It was going to be a long day of standing on our feet and serving coffee, but starting the morning like this? I wouldn't trade it for anything.
I finally let her go, setting her feet back down on the cold bathroom tile. She immediately pointed a finger at the door, her eyes narrowed in a playful glare.
"Get out," Jay said firmly.
"But I thought we were going to shower together?" I said, putting on my best wounded, betrayed expression. "You're breaking my heart, Jay."
She let out a snort, reaching for her toothbrush. "Keifer, you and I both know that if we shower together, we're not getting out of the bathroom until Monday. We have a shift in an hour, remember?"
I opened my mouth to argue, but she was right. One shower could easily turn into a 'stay-in-bed-all-day' marathon, and as much as I wanted that, my bank account was screaming at me to get to work.
"Fair point," I grumbled, leaning against the doorframe.
"We can brush our teeth together," Jay negotiated, handing me my toothbrush with a wink. "But after that, you have to go into the kitchen and make breakfast for us. Deal?"
I took the brush, looking at her in the mirror. She looked adorable with her messy hair and my oversized shirt still hanging off one shoulder. "Deal. But I expect a very big tip for the room service, Mrs. Watson."
"We'll see how the eggs turn out first," she teased, nudging my shoulder with hers.
We stood there at the tiny sink, shoulders brushing in the cramped space, the rhythmic sound of brushing filling the room. It was such a small, domestic thing, but every time I looked at her reflection next to mine, I felt that fierce surge of pride. This was my life now. Our life.
Once we finished, I gave her a quick swat on the hip to get her moving. "Fine, I'm going. Don't take forever in there. I don't like eating breakfast alone anymore."
"Five minutes!" she called out over the sound of the running water.
I headed into the kitchen, whistling a low tune as I cracked the eggs. Saturday morning in a tiny apartment, a beautiful wife in the shower, and a paycheck waiting at the end of the day. It wasn't the life I had planned a year ago, but it was the only one I ever wanted.
I watched as she walked into the kitchen, her hair still bundled up in a fluffy towel, looking fresh and glowing from the steam. I couldn't help myself; I stepped into her space and pressed a lingering kiss against the side of her neck, breathing in the scent of her shampoo.
"Breakfast is ready. I'll be back in a few minutes," I murmured against her skin before heading into the bathroom to take my own lightning-fast shower.
By the time I stepped out, the small apartment was filled with the sound of the hairdryer. Jay was standing there, concentrated on drying her damp hair , but she looked way too tempting to ignore. I walked up behind her, sliding my arms around her waist and burying my face back in the crook of her neck, my lips finding that sensitive pulse point again.
"Keifer, I'm drying my hair!" Jay giggled, the dryer still whirring in her hand as she tried to squirm away from my lips.
"I'm wetting my wife," I retorted, my voice muffled by her skin as I continued to pepper her with kisses.
"Stop! We're going to be late!" She laughed, though she leaned her head back, giving me better access.
"Mr. Hall will understand," I grumbled playfully, finally letting her go so we could actually eat before the eggs got cold. "He knows I'm a newlywed. It's part of the job description to be five minutes late."
"In your dreams, Watson," she teased, switching off the dryer and turning around to give me a quick, real kiss. "Eat your eggs. We have a lot of coffee to pour today."
We sat down at our tiny table, a bit of a rush in our movements but a lot of smiles between us.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
JAY JAY POV
I stared at the two envelopes in Mr. Hall's hand, my heart doing a little gymnastic routine. We had only been here for an hour, prepped for a grueling Saturday double shift, and now he was literally waving money in our faces and telling us to leave.
"Wait, what? Are we fired?" I asked, my voice pitching up. My mind immediately went to the worst-case scenario—did my father find Mr. Hall?
Mr. Hall stopped and looked at us, his face twisting into a look of pure confusion before he let out a booming laugh.
"No, silly girl! My kids came home from university early and they want to help out today so they're helping. Honestly, I don't think we will need you two newlyweds underfoot today," Mr. Hall said, a devious, teasing glint in his eyes. "So I decided to give you guys the day off. Enjoy yourselves! You've been working like dogs. You got your paychecks, so get out now. Shoo!"
I looked at Keifer, who was wearing a stunned expression that mirrored mine. We both reached out and took our envelopes—our first real, hard-earned money.
"Thanks, Mr. Hall," Keifer said, a massive, genuine smile breaking across his face. He looked like a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders.
"Sure, kid. Now go before I change my mind and make you mop the walk-in freezer," Mr. Hall joked, shooing us toward the door with a dish towel.
We practically floated out of the diner. The morning air felt different—sharper, brighter. I clutched my envelope to my chest, feeling the thickness of the bills inside.
"Keifer," I said, stopping on the sidewalk. "We have money. And we have the whole day."
Keifer turned to me, his eyes sparking with an excitement I rarely saw. He tucked his own paycheck into his back pocket and stepped into my space, wrapping his arms around my waist and lifting me just an inch off the ground.
"We have the whole day, Mrs. Watson," Keifer repeated, his voice a low, happy rumble. "No school, no bosses, and no 'bodyguard' brothers. Just us."
"What do we do first?" I asked, lacing my fingers behind his neck, feeling a rush of excitement I hadn't felt in years.
"Picnic at the park," Keifer suggested, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
"Perfect! But first, let's draw the money from the checks," I said. I wanted to feel the physical weight of our hard work. It felt like real power—the kind that didn't come from my dad's signature.
Keifer nodded, and we walked hand-in-hand to the local bank.
When the teller handed over the cash, I felt like a queen.
"Let's go home, then we can go to the park," I said, looking at the bundle of bills.
We headed back to our tiny apartment, which felt even more like a sanctuary now that we had the day to ourselves. Once inside, I found a safe, hidden spot to tuck away the bulk of the money for rent and bills. I grabbed a few thousand pesos for our date—enough to feel rich for a day, but not enough to be reckless.
I turned to Keifer, who was leaning against the doorframe watching me with that soft, "I-can't-believe-this-is-my-life" look.
"Okay, Watson. Picnic essentials," I said, pointing a finger at him. "You grab the blanket and that old cooler. I'm going to make the world's most humble sandwiches."
"Humble sandwiches? Does that mean no gold-flaked ham?" he teased, walking over to wrap his arms around my waist from behind as I started pulling bread out.
"Exactly. Just bread, cheese, and a lot of mayo. True working-class style," I giggled, leaning back against him.
"I'll go get the blanket," he whispered, kissing my temple. "But don't take too long. The sun is perfect right now."
I moved quickly, packing our small basket with the sandwiches, some fruit we'd bought at the market, two bottles of cold water, and obviously a mountain of snacks. You can take the girl out of the mansion, but you can't take away her addiction to junk food.
"Ready?" Keifer asked, appearing in the kitchen with the old plaid blanket tucked under his arm. He had changed into a fresh t-shirt, and even though it was just a plain,he looked better than any of the models in the magazines my mother used to keep in the lounge.
"Ready," I beamed, grabbing the basket.
We walked down to the local park, the one where the grass isn't perfectly manicured by a team of twenty gardeners, but it felt a million times more welcoming. The sun was warm on my skin, and for once, I didn't feel the need to look over my shoulder for a security detail or a prying camera.
"Over there, under the big oak," I pointed, a trail of excitement bubbling in my chest.
We spread the blanket out, and I immediately started digging through the basket. I pulled out a bag of sweet chips and popped it open, handing one to Keifer before even looking at the sandwiches.
"Snacks first?" Keifer chuckled, sitting down and stretching his long legs out.
"It's a tradition," I declared, sitting cross-legged next to him. I took a bite of my sandwich—plain bread, thick cheese, and way too much mayo—and it tasted like the best thing I'd ever eaten
I shook my head, my heart fluttering as I looked down at him. Out of nowhere, this idiot just shifted and laid his head right on my lap, looking up at me with that playful expression
"What?" Keifer asked, noticing the way I was staring at him.
"Nothing," I whispered, my fingers instinctively finding their way into his soft hair, twirling a few dark strands. It felt so domestic, so real. "So, what is the plan now, Mr. Watson? We have the whole day, a full stomach, and no chores."
"Maybe some kisses for your husband," Keifer said, a confident smirk playing on his lips as he pointed to them with his index finger.
I giggled, leaning down to pepper his lips with quick, soft pecks. One, two, three... I counted all the way to ten.
"More," Keifer groaned, sounding completely unsatisfied as he reached up to catch the back of my neck, trying to pull me deeper into the kiss.
"Keifer! We're in public!" I hissed, glancing around the park. Even though we were under the shade of the big oak, people were still walking by.
"I don't see anyone looking," he muttered, his eyes dark with that familiar hunger.
A devious idea popped into my head. I reached into the container next to me and grabbed a chilled green grape. I tucked it between my teeth, holding it firmly, and then I leaned down toward him.
Keifer's eyes widened for a split second before a slow, wicked grin spread across his face. He didn't hesitate. He reached up, cupping my jaw, and closed the distance. I felt his lips meet mine, firm and warm, as he skillfully took the grape straight from my mouth with his teeth.
He bit into it, the sweet juice bursting between us as he deepened the kiss, his tongue swirling against mine to catch every drop. I felt a shiver race down my spine that had nothing to do with the breeze.
"Sweet," he rasped against my lips once he'd swallowed, his thumb tracing my lower lip. "But you taste better."
"You're getting bold, Watson," I breathed, my face heating up as I played with the collar of his shirt.
"I'm a married man, Jay. I'm allowed to be bold," he replied, pulling one of my hands down to his chest so I could feel the steady, rapid thrum of his heart. "And for the record, ten kisses isn't nearly enough for a week's worth of work. You still owe me."