No Red, No Edge

“What piece do you want?” Calvin asked.

I paused for a moment, then said, “I want a piece with no red writing on it, but also no edges.”

He gave me a look like I had five heads and three ears. “Really, babe? That’s impossible.”

I shrugged and replied, “Okay, an edge piece is

fine,” I realized how silly my request was, chuckled, and then wandered into the kitchen to get Carson some ice cream.

When I came back to the dining room, I spotted it—the perfect piece. No red writing, no edges, just as I asked for. He had actually carved into the cake to get me that piece. The one. No red, just edge. Who says romance is dead?

I don’t like red writing. It goes back to when we lived in Korea—there’s a superstition there that writing someone’s name in red is like a death threat.

But Calvin cut it just for me. He could’ve just given me any edge piece, but he didn’t.

How lucky am I?

He does little things like that all the time-small things just to make me smile. I don't know what on earth I did to deserve him, but man, I am so incredibly thankful for him.