“Hey, tidbit.” He kicks off his boots, drops his gym bag to the floor, a grocery bag to the counter. “I didn’t get you Timbits because they’re not tree-nut-safe. I got you these instead.” He opens the grocery bag, pulling out two boxes of cereal with tiny Timbits on them. I pick up the boxes, my heart pattering as I read the names. Timbits Birthday Cake and Timbits Chocolate Glazed. “They’re nut-free,” he says, and fucking shit, there goes my goddamn chin again.
