Page 40 of My Enemy Biker

"This." She gestures between us. "Arguing about nothing."

"It's not nothing. It's dishes. Towels. Systems that work versus systems that work better." I cross to where she's standing. "It's us."

"Arguing is us."

"Has been from the start."

She looks up at me and something in her expression goes soft. "I like that it's still us."

"Me too."

The kettle starts whistling. She turns to get it but I catch her hand.

"Anna."

"Yeah?"

"You're right about the dishwasher."

"I know I am."

"And the towels."

"I— wait, really?"

"No. Your towel system is still insane. But I love that you have a system." I let go of her hand. "Even when it's wrong."

She reaches up to kiss me quick before turning back to her tea. "I'm not wrong about the towels."

"We can argue about it later."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

She makes her tea while I go back to the laptop. The kitchen settles into comfortable quiet, just the sound of her stirring honey into the mug and me typing updates for Clint.

She sits down across from me at the table with her tea. Our table. Same seats as always.

"What are you working on?" she asks.

"Security update for Clint."

"Anything I can help with?"

"You want to review motorcycle club security protocols?"

"I want to spend time with you. If that includes security protocols, fine."

I turn the laptop so she can see the screen. She reads for a minute, sipping her tea, then points at something in the second paragraph.

"That phrasing is vague. If you're implementing new protocols, you need clearer language about who has access and when."

"It's internal documentation."

"Internal documentation still requires precision."

She's right. Obviously she's right.