I change into a white shirt, a dark green quarter-zip pullover sweater, and a pair of khaki Dockers.
Before I exit the closet, I grab my watch from the island’s drawer.
The scent of mango and something floral fills the room. It smells soft and girly. I should leave her, but instead, I sit on the sectional, take out my phone, and look at the emails I will have to reply to.
“Is this good enough for breakfast?” Noelle comes out in a white silk blouse and dark jeans. Her hair is up in a ponytail, with curls dropping at the side of her face.
She is so beautiful. Her dark brown skin shines under that silk blouse.
“Hello, earth to Roman?” Noelle clicks her fingers in front of my face.
I pull away. “You look fine. Let’s go.”
NOELLE
The scent of bacon makes my mouth water as we near the dining room. Elizabeth was right; we were late.
The side table was laden with everything pertaining to the word breakfast. Tea, coffee, waffles. You name it, it was there.
As we circle the dining table, Roman pulls out a chair for me. “Thank you.”
My smile is huge. “Good morning, everyone. Sorry for being this late.”
Tillie butters her toast. “I mean, I heard you and Rom last night. I would have been late too.”
I stop and watch Roman and then look back at Tillie. She winks at me.
Roman rests a plate of sliced strawberries and pears on the table.
“Thank you, Rom,” I say so casually. The whole table stiffens, and I look around.
“Did I say something wrong?” I ask.
Tessa chuckles and pops a grape in her mouth. “No, it was my special name for Roman when we were kids and dating.”
What the hell do I say to that? Before I could clap back, Roman bends and kisses my forehead as he places a bagel in front of me. I find myself leaning into the kiss.
“‘Rom’ hits different when Elle says it,” Romans replies, and it makes the table go even more quiet. Who is Elle?
Tillie chuckles. “Well, there you have it, folks. It hits different when it’s someone you actually love.”
Roman places his food on the table and sits. “Agreed.”
I take a bite out of my bagel. I don’t know how Roman knows, but I love an everything bagel with a smear of cream cheese. It’s delicious.
Elizabeth looks down at the table. “You know, it’s weird; I hear a slight accent when you speak. Are you American?”
I wipe my mouth. “Am I a citizen? Yes. But I was born in Trinidad and Tobago.”
Elizabeth’s eyes widen. “Really? That is amazing. You are a Caribbean girl.”
She says ‘Caribbean girl’ in that weird-sounding accent that you hear people speak on TV.
“Say something Caribbean. Come on, mon. Trinidad is in Jamaica, right?” Liam shimmies his shoulders.
I fight myself from reaching across the table and slapping the shit out of him.
“Jamaica is a beautiful country on its own. But Trinidad and Tobago is not Jamaica,” I reply. God, I am not in the mood to conduct a whole history class, but I will keep my groan in.
