Breakfast Buffet

Hauling Riley's armored photo onto the dining sideboard this morning proved that an ironclad girlfriend deserves a proper continental spread. Beside a ceramic woven fruit basket, someone had left an oversized wooden toothpick and a single, plump purple grape that had rolled free. I nudged the grape over with my sneaker, wedged Riley's rigid card sleeve snug against its firm curved skin, and slid the wooden pick across like a private velvet barricade. Now she's got front-row luxury seating with custom fruit support, looking like an absolute VIP at the morning brunch table.