It’s only as I’m standing back, drinking in the absurdity of the visual, that he makes a soft, frustrated sound. “Shit. Forgot about my glasses.” Sighing, I reach down, gingerly plucking them from his nose. Folding them up, I place the glasses on the leather ottoman, and then reach for the blanket on the back of the couch, covering him. He stares up at me, giving a slow, heavy blink, like he’s surprised I’d do something so odd as to take care of him. It’s the reason I lean down, brushing a kiss to his mouth.
