I looked down at the bright yellow yolks on the white plate, then at the empty kitchen counter where the tea kettle usually sat.

“Did you put the kettle away?” I asked.

“I washed it and put it in the cabinet,” he said, without missing a beat.

“We can both take a break from hot drinks for a day or two.”

The tropical conservatory inside the botanical gardens smelled of damp stone, rich peat moss, and crushed palm leaves.

Daniel held my hand as we walked along the gravel path toward the orchid house, his grip warm and steady.

He stopped beside a green bench tucked beneath a canopy of broad fern leaves.