Popovers

She stood in the kitchen just after dawn, the light still pale on the counters. The batter came together quickly—eggs, milk, flour—smooth under the whisk. On the counter, beside the butter and honey, she set the lavender sea glass she’d found the morning before, its color soft in the early light.

The oven beeped.

Hot tin out, batter poured, tin back in.

The door closed with a soft click.

Thirty minutes now.

No checking, no opening the oven, no interruptions.

She wiped her hands on a towel and headed upstairs.

He was lying on his side, the sheet low around his hips, the room still dim with early light. She undressed quietly and slid beneath the covers, fitting herself along the length of his back as she kissed the soft place just below his ear. He tried to stay still—pretending sleep the way he always did—but she knew better. His breath stuttered the moment her hand moved over his hip, slow and sure.

That was all it took.

He rolled onto his back without a word, the sheet slipping low, his eyes half-open and already giving himself away. She kissed her way down his chest, slow and certain, pausing to press her lips to the flat of his stomach. He drew in a sharp breath at that—caught and completely undone—his fingers curling in the sheets as she continued her steady descent.

His breath broke first.

Then the tension, the shudder, the soft collapse of him sinking into the mattress as he let go. She stayed with him through all of it—patient, steady—guiding him through the last trembling exhale until he finally went still beneath her touch.

For a moment the room was quiet except for his breathing, rough and uneven.

Then he laughed—breathless, dazed, a little wrecked.

“Are those popovers I smell?” he managed.

She kissed the corner of his mouth, smiling.

“Morning,” she whispered.

She slipped from the bed, pulled on her shirt, and went downstairs.

The oven timer had just gone off.

The popovers were tall and golden, perfect.

She placed them on a tray with the butter, the honey, two plates, and the piece of lavender sea glass—then carried everything back upstairs to him.