“Did it without thinking.”
I stare at her in shock. My fingers start fidgeting together.
“Why don’t you come downstairs and have breakfast with me?”
My stomach tightens. “Where’s Heath?”
She smiles. “He left early with Sebastian and Marie.”
I nod.
“Freshen up and come downstairs.” That sounds more like a command than a request.
————————
After washingmy face with just water—Heath uses a charcoal one and charcoal doesn't suit me—and brushing my teeth with a spare toothbrush that I find in one of the drawers, I fix my hair and plaster on a smile.
I’m still dressed in sweatpants and trousers. Not an ideal outfit when you’re about to have breakfast with your boyfriend’s mother. I’m definitely not impressing her today which makes me feel sad. All I want is for her to like me.
Practicing a five minute breathing technique, I leave the room and walk down the hallway. I feel so anxious that I have to use the barrister to descend the stairs—the chances of me falling down are very high.
The closer I get, the more nervous I become.
I’ve met her before and I know she’s nice, but that was before she saw me getting carried away in her son’s arms and spending a night in his room.
I hope she knows we didn’t do anything and I’m not corrupting her son.
The only thing we’ve done is kissing and a little bit of touching. But only the upper half.
My cheeks flame up at the reminder and I press my cold palms against my cheeks to cool them down.
I desperately need the cloak of invisibility.
Since, I know, where the kitchen is, I find my way to it without getting lost in the maze of rooms.
I draw a deep breath before entering and see his mother near the stove. She’s frying pancakes and humming a song in a sweet melody.
I almost turn around to leave when she says, “Take a seat, Hope.”
I should’ve known. My chances of escaping awkward situations are always slim.
Walking towards the stool, I sit down and try to keep my back straight. I read somewhere that it oozes confidence
“Do you like maple syrup on your pancakes?” she asks.
“It’s fine,” I say.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Someone told me youonlylike chocolate.”
Butterflies soar in my stomach. “I do, but the maple syrup will be just fine.”
She stacks up three pancakes and places the plate in front of me.
Moving around, she places another plate that has a couple of sandwiches. Finally, she brings a plate of omelette with bacon, toast and blueberries on the side. She takes it as she sits across from me.
