I’m sweaty and should probably shower before heading out there, but my need to greet her on her first morning is too much to ignore.
Lifting my shirt, I wipe my face and head out.
She doesn’t react as I approach. She’s too focused on unpacking her bags and loading items into the refrigerator. I thought I’d filled that baby to the max with everything she could possibly need, but clearly not.
“Good morning, Chef,” I greet, a little too excited about her being here. “Would you like a coffee?” I ask, because that’s the one machine in this kitchen that I know exactly how to use.
She doesn’t respond, and as I round the island, I spot the white AirPod in her ear. Unfortunately, it’s the exact same time she registers my movement as well.
She shrieks, jumps a mile, and the carton of eggs in her hands plummets to the floor.
On instinct, I dart forward and actually manage to catch three. Sadly, the others land on the floor. The shells explode, and raw egg splatters everywhere.
“Oh my god,” Freya cries, throwing her AirPods onto the counter, grabbing the roll of paper towel, and dropping to her knees.
“I’m so sorry. I had no idea you had earphones in,” I say, also sinking to the floor to help.
“It’s my fault. I should have taken them out when I got here. I didn’t think you’d be up yet. I was just going to get everything prepped and?—”
“Freya,” I say, sitting back on my heels.
She pauses her gloop-scooping and looks up at me with glassy, fearful eyes.
“Everything is okay. It’s just some eggs. Did you need all of these? I can run to the store if you do.” I give her a soft smile in the hope it helps calm her down.
“N-no, I don’t. I picked up extras. I was going to do poached eggs, but sometimes I struggle, and I wanted spares in case I screwed them up.”
“What’s easier than poached eggs?” I ask.
“Umm…pretty much every other kind of eggs.”
“Then do any of those this morning.”
“But—”
“Don’t make life harder for yourself. Up until now, my breakfasts have consisted of a protein shake and an apple. Anything you give me will be a major improvement.”
Her shoulders relax, and she releases a heavy sigh.
“I promise you, my expectations are very low.”
Something twinkles in her eyes. “I thought you hired me because I can cook.”
I smirk. “Which is why I know that any type of eggs you do will be outstanding.” With a handful of egg-covered kitchen paper towel, I stand. “Would you like a coffee?” I ask again as I dump it in the trash.
“No, no, sit down. I’ll make it.”
“It’s really okay. What’s your poison?”
She leans around me and looks at my machine. It pretty much does everything, so the world is her oyster.
“Just coffee with a little creamer is great.” She ducks her head to continue cleaning long before she’s finished speaking.
“Latte? Cappuccino? Flat white? Hazelnut, caramel, lavender?”
“Lavender?” she blurts. “Who the hell has lavender in coffee? Oh, crumbs. I’m sorry. I’m sure it’s lovely.”
I smirk as she rambles.
