“That’s lovely,” I said politely. “Next time you have to wake me up before nine, could you please bring coffee with you?”
Maria laughed softly. “Of course. I can certainly do that.”
“Thank you,” I replied, meaning it.
She gave me a small nod. “I’ll let him know you’ll be down shortly.”
As soon as she left, I threw the covers back and slid out of bed. So my plan hadn’t worked. He hadn’t walked in, seen my things, and climbed in beside me. He probably saw me sleeping in his bed and chose to sleep elsewhere.
That annoyed me more than I cared to admit.
I headed straight to the bathroom, turning on the faucet and splashing cool water onto my face. I stared at my reflection in the mirror, trying to smooth away the faint crease between my brows.
Why did I care this much? I grabbed my toothbrush and brushed quickly, my mind replaying the empty space beside me. Maybe he’d stayed late at the office. Maybe he’d fallen asleep elsewhere without meaning to, or maybe he found out what I did and avoided the bedroom altogether.
The thought made my jaw tighten.
I dried my face and took off my bonnet so I could run my fingers through the loose curls of my wig. I didn’t want to look like I’d just rolled out of bed, but I also didn’t want to look like I’d tried too hard.
I was halfway down the stairs when I remembered that I was supposed to be mad at Callahan.
I stopped mid-step, fingers curling around the banister as irritation rushed back into my veins like it had been waiting patiently for me to notice it again. With a sigh, I forced myself to slow my pace.
Don’t smile at him and don’t let him charm you into being nice.
The moment I stepped into the dining room, I gasped.
The coffee table had been transformed into something out of a luxury hotel advertisement. Platters covered every inch of space — fluffy scrambled eggs, perfectly crisp bacon, golden pancakes stacked high, waffles dusted with powdered sugar, fresh fruit arranged like edible art, croissants, toast, oatmeal, yogurt parfaits, even ackee and saltfish steaming gently in a silver dish.
I blinked.
“What…?” The word slipped out before I could stop it.
Maria appeared like she’d been summoned by my confusion. “Mrs. Sterling,” she said warmly. “Mr. Sterling wasn’t sure what you preferred for breakfast, so he asked me to prepare a bit of everything.”
My gaze shifted instinctively to Callahan.
He was standing near the fireplace in a fitted charcoal shirt, sleeves rolled to his forearms, looking annoyingly composed. His hair was still slightly damp from a shower. He didn’t smile, but there was something cautious in his expression.
“Thank you,” I muttered, my voice softer than I intended.
I almost forgot why I was annoyed. Almost.
I walked toward the table and sat down carefully, pretending to inspect the spread like I wasn’t hyper-aware of him watching me. The scent of coffee drifted toward me, energizing me with just its smell.
I reached for a plate.
“How did you sleep?”
I froze.
My hand paused mid-air. Slowly, I turned my head and shot him a look that probably could’ve cut glass. His jaw tightened immediately.
“I mean—” he began quickly, stepping closer. “Maria was supposed to put you in one of the guest rooms.”
There it was. I rolled my eyes, letting the plate rest back on the table. “Maria did her job.”
His brows furrowed. “Then why—”
