On a crisp Saturday morning, Sophie awoke to a familiar blond guy snuggling her. Although her husband was half-asleep, he still managed to capture her waist and pull her deeper into the cradle of his arms.
"Keefe," she said through a laugh.
"Don't go," he insisted, hugging her tighter. "It's raining outside, anyways."
Sophie peaked out the window of their bedroom to confirm that it was, indeed, raining. Warm autumn leaves matted the grass, forming carpet for the raindrops to land on.
Normally, Sophie would try to be productive — it was the only day she had off work, after all — but Keefe was so warm . . .
"Okay," she finally agreed, using his chest as a pillow. "I'll stay."
As raindrops collapsed outside, Sophie could barely hear Keefe's whisper: "That's my Foster."
