“I burn a lot of calories,” he said with a slight smile. “What about you?”
I scanned the menu. “French toast with berries on top and powdered sugar. Really cheesy eggs. And chicken sausage. Oh, and milk, please.”
Julie scribbled it all down and disappeared.
“Milk?” Lex asked, amused.
“I sometimes like milk with breakfast. It’s a thing.”
“It’s cute. I’ll make sure to keep some around.” He reached across the table and took my hand. “I wanted today to be just us. No Majesty, no students, no obligations. Just you and me, getting to know each other better.”
“I like that.” I laced my fingers through his. “We haven’t really had time alone. Not like this.”
“Exactly. So this first part of the day will be pretty tame. No scene negotiations, no kink discussions. Just two people spending time together.”
“Can we still flirt?” I asked.
His eyes darkened slightly. “Absolutely.”
Our food arrived, and it was glorious. My french toast was thick and perfectly golden, topped with fresh berries and a generous dusting of powdered sugar. The eggs were exactly as requested, loaded with cheese.
“Oh my god,” I said after the first bite. “Majesty wasn’t lying. This is incredible.”
Lex tried his biscuits and gravy and made a sound of appreciation. “Definitely coming back here.”
We ate in comfortable silence for a few minutes, then Lex asked, “Tell me about your family. You don’t talk about them much.”
I swallowed a bite of french toast. “Not much to tell, honestly. I have a sister, but we’re not close. Never have been. My parents are still married, still living in the same house I grew up in, but we’re distant. They weren’t bad parents, we just never really connected.”
“That must be lonely.”
“Sometimes. Shelly became my best friend and sister. She made up for what I didn’t get growing up.” I took a sip of milk. “What about you?”
“I knew my dad. He left when I was ten. Haven’t seen him since.” His voice was matter-of-fact, like he’d processed it long ago. “My mom raised me alone. Did the best she could with what she had. She died of cancer when I was twenty-two.”
“I’m sorry.” I squeezed his hand.
“It was a long time ago. But I miss her. She would have liked you.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. She always said I needed someone who could challenge me. Who wouldn’t just submit blindly but would push back when it mattered.” He smiled. “You do that.”
“Is that a compliment?”
“Absolutely.”
“Any siblings?” I asked.
“No. Just me. Which meant I learned to be self-sufficient pretty early.” He speared a piece of sausage. “What about you? Do you want kids someday?”
The question surprised me, but I didn’t hesitate. “Yes. Two, I think. So they can play together, have each other. I always wished my sister and I were closer. I’d want my kids to have that bond.”
“Two sounds perfect.” He was quiet for a moment, his eyes distant. “I’ve never really let myself think about kids.”
“Why not?”
“Because I was always focused on the next thing. Building the business, perfecting my craft, teaching. Family felt like something other people got to have. Something I couldn’t afford to dream about.”
