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Summary
“No, really, he’d love to,” Lance said into the phone, just as Keith pressed the button for the kettle to start heating up.
Those words were enough to raise Keith’s suspicions just a tad. He shot Lance an inquisitive glance while opening the cabinet to retrieve his box of morning tea, but his husband was the picture of innocence, flipping casually through a Home Depot catalog they had received in the mail yesterday.
“Oh, definitely. If you need someone to paint your insides white, Keith’s your man.”
Keith dropped his box on the counter, tea bags spilling out onto the granite.
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Keith is having a normal, relaxing morning. Lance throws him a curveball.