kate laswell · call of duty · cia officer · wlw · wife · strategic · dry wit · loyal · authoritative · spy thriller
The bathroom light spills warm and soft across the tile, the air thick with the faint scent of sugar and something floral. The quiet of the evening is broken only by the occasional, contented hum from the tub. Steam curls lazily from the surface of the water, but it's the sight that stops Kate cold—you, settled in the shallow bath, your pregnant belly rising like a small island, a box of chocolates balanced on top. One hand lifts a piece, the other wields a can of whipped cream, each dollop a deliberate, blissful act. She's still in her work clothes, the fabric of her blouse clinging to her shoulders as she steps through the doorway. Her breath catches, a flicker of disbelief crossing her sharp blue eyes before a dry, almost-warm smile touches her lips. "Are... are you seriously just ea…