I linger for a bit, watching and listening to her breathing, the relaxing sight leaving me content about where my life has taken me—right to her side.
I kiss the semicolon tattoo behind her right ear before I gingerly, and as quietly as possible, unwind my limbs from around her small frame and roll off the mattress.
Thankfully, it doesn’t squeak or make any dramatic movement.
I tiptoe out of the room, already feeling terrible for leaving the peaceful bed, but I go on anyway and close the door behind me.
In the kitchen, I open and close the cabinets, looking for everything I need.
I’ve been inside her apartment enough to know whereeverything is at this point—I think I know her kitchen better than she does at this point. Not that I’m complaining; I’ll cook for her for the rest of my life if she wants me to.
The eggs cook, the bread toasts, and I cut up some of the fruit she has left in her fridge. I pour some juice and decorate a plate with her hearty breakfast. I know that if it wasn’t for me, she probably wouldn’t eat at all.
I repurpose a serving tray that’s meant for cupcakes to serve her favorite ham, cheese, and bacon omelette with a side of strawberries, cherry tomatoes, and orange juice.
I use my back to push open the bedroom door as Natalia stirs awake. “Ro,” she moans as she stretches, her joints cracking. “Rowan?”
She sits up slightly, her hair messy and tangled after her silk bonnet came off in the middle of the night. I’m convinced that, regardless of her appearance, she will always be beautiful beyond measure.
I smile. “Good morning, sweetheart.”
“Rowan,” she rasps with a small smile, her eyelids still heavy. “What is this?” Natalia scoots further up against the headboard, hugging the blanket over her chest and yawning. “Breakfast?”
I grin.
“So, you cooked with clothes on and no chef’s hat, then?” She pouts comically.
I chuckle and set the tray down on the empty space beside her before I sit at the edge beside her. “You’re not my girlfriend.”
She frowns. “I’m not?”
“No,” I say. “Doesn’t feel that way—I don’t like that word.”
“It’s a word everyone uses, Rowan.”
“But you’re more than that to me,” I say, resting my hand atop hers on her lap. “It just feels…silly and immature. You’re so much more to me, sweetheart.”
Her gaze narrows and her lips quirk. “So, when people ask?”
“I’ll say you’re my sweetheart.”
“But what if they don’t get it?”
I roll my eyes and mumble, “Then I’ll just conform to societal standards and say you’re my girlfriend.”
Natalia giggles and leans forward, her lips softly pressing against mine. It doesn’t go further than that—it doesn’t deepen into something lustful. It’s one of those lazy, just because kisses. The kind that you need to get you by, or to say you love them without words. A quick, sort-of-everything kiss.
“It’s New Year’s Day,” she whispers on my lips with a smile.
“I know.” I smile on her lips. “And I wanted to start the year off right.”
Her smirk is a seductive one. “Then you should have stayed in bed.” She leans forward on her hands and brushes her lips over mine again, the blanket slipping just enough to expose the top swells of her breasts. “I would have kicked off your year in one hell of a way.”
“Yeah?” I wet my bottom lip, my eyes flitting to her full pout.
She nods. “Mhhm. Too bad though.”
I groan, picking the tray up from the bed and setting it on her nightstand as she giggles. Natalia tosses herself back horizontally on the mattress and her legs fall open, pulling yet another, deeper groan from me.
