I try not to look too deeply into his words, but it's nearly impossible not to.
They traipse across my mind. Wander into my heart.
I fall asleep to them.
Chapter 23
Mallory
Birdsong awakens me.
Sunlight, full and strong in a swath of bright yellow, pours through the window. A slight breeze runs through the tall tree outside, ruffling the tightly wound purple buds. In the distance, the olive orchard runs on and on, endless.
This bed is more comfortable than the inn, and possibly more comfortable than my bed back home.
I stretch out, starfish, point my toes. Allow myself to enjoy this bliss. I refuse to think about the photos on my phone. My middle of the night exodus from the inn, the danger that lurked while I slept. A few more moments of peace is all I'm after.
My eyes close, and I listen to the quiet, punctuated only by the melody of the birds in the tree. It's?—
My hand flies to my stomach, neck craning to see down to my midsection.
A flutter, once more. Like a fish swimming, or the jerky movements of a butterfly.
"Hey, Peanut," I whisper, smile shaking. Tears burn my eyes. "I'm here." My hands run over my belly, head dropping back on the pillow. "We had a scary night, didn't we?" My gaze finds the window, the natural beauty beyond. "But we're ok now, aren't we?"
Thanks to Hugo.
One more flutter, and a tear leaking from the corner of my eye.
I wait and wait, hoping for another movement, but that's it. Peanut is finished with the somersaults.
Reluctantly, I tear myself from the bed I could luxuriate in all day. I don't know what time it is, but based on how sunny it is outside, I'm guessing it's somewhere around midday.
Once I'm in the bathroom, I take a long, hot shower under water pressure that is just right. The towels are fluffy, soft. Perfect. I'm like Goldilocks, except I've been invited to stay.
I dress and add moisturizer to my face, letting my hair air dry. Finding my phone in my purse, I see that it's a little after noon. I also have a missed FaceTime call from Jolene, but the hunger I'm feeling supersedes a return call for now. She is going to lose her mind when I tell her what happened.
I was so tired when we arrived early this morning, I didn't spend any time looking around myself.
The hallway where the bedrooms are opens up to a dining room on the left, and a living room beyond that.It's an open floor plan, with tall, large windows allowing incredible views of the orchard. The floor is a light-colored wood, with a large dining room table, and beyond that, two cozy-looking couches oriented in an L-shape. There is a stone fireplace, and above it, four swords on four separate display racks. They all have different shapes, and now I'm making a mental note to ask if they have different names.
My growling stomach propels me out of the living room in search of the kitchen.
When I find the kitchen, I'm stunned. It's gorgeous, something out of a magazine. Matte black cabinets with copper handles, four of them with glass fronts to show off the dinnerware inside. The counter is one solid piece of finished wood, long and gleaming, with a live edge at the far end. The whole vibe is upscale masculine.
I open up the fridge, anticipating a selection of food fit for a bachelor. Just because the kitchen surfaces are stunning doesn't mean what's happening on the interior matches. A loaf of stale bread and a jar of outdated salad dressing wouldn't have surprised me, but Hugo has a fridge like a home chef. It appears he's perfectly capable of using this fancy kitchen.
Fresh herbs, wrapped in bags and placed in jars of water. Cut vegetables in a bin with separate compartments. Soda waters lined up like soldiers. Cuts of raw meat wrapped in paper and plastic, stored in a separate container. I half-expect his cheese drawer to sayFromagerieon it. It doesn't, but he does have a wedge of real parmesan, and feta imported from Greece.
This is not the fridge of a bachelor enjoying his bachelorhood. This is the fridge of a real man. An adult.
How is it after all this time, Hugo is single? He's... well, he'severything.
I perform a quick discovery of the kitchen, opening drawers and cabinets, familiarizing myself with where things are located. After that, I whip up a veggie omelet with sourdough toast and breakfast sausage. The only thing missing is decaf coffee, and I'm already jonesing for the vanilla latte Sal made me yesterday.
Was it really only yesterday? So much has happened since then. I officially reversed the 'Vivi hates Mallory' train, kept up my yearly tradition on Maggie's birthday, had my privacy violated by an unknown person, and woke up here this morning, in Hugo's home.
It's enough to make my head spin. Pouring myself an ice-cold glass of water from the fridge, I settle onto a stool tucked under the overhang of the kitchen island.
