“Oh, yeah? What’s one of your worst?” I ask, leaning to look into the pan when he lifts the lid off. The steam rises before dissipating and revealing two perfectly cooked cheesy omelets side-by-side in the skillet. It looks too delicious. My mouth waters, and I lick my lips, grabbing a fork from him before stabbing it into one of the omelets straight out of the skillet and promptly eating a forkful. “Oh sweet Jesus, it’sperfect,”I moan, tilting my head back and swaying as the salty tang of the ham and cheese floods my tongue. I freeze at the eerie silence.
Wait.I just made a blatant sexual sound in front of him!
Trying not to choke, I hurriedly swallow my bite and then open my eyes, blinking rather embarrassingly at the hungry look that's on his face again. Except this time it doesn't disappear as fast as it did a little bit ago.
“I’m sorry,” I say shyly, biting my lip and looking down at the plates. "I-I shouldn't be eating out of the pan. It's rude."
I grab one and then look up confused as Alexander’s hand suddenly plucks the plate away and grabs the other one, putting it on the counter behind him. Turning back, he pushes the skillet on its iron stand in front of us, stabbing his fork into the other omelet before catching my eye and putting a bite into his mouth and groaning himself.
I smile, feeling seen, and proceed to dig in alongside him into a perfect omelet just simple enough to heal the soul.
Chapter twenty-two
Qualities
ImeltatSarah'sgrin before she stabs her fork again into her omelet. We eat for a minute in silence while I contemplate her question.
“One of my worst qualities is that I'm demanding.” I pause, gauging her reaction. She stays open in her body language, chewing her omelet and keeping her eyes on mine. Good girl.
“Demanding how?”
"Emotionally." Her face stays perfectly calm, and now it's my turn to chew quietly, debating how much to share. “I divorced my ex-wife, Hannah, because she was so busy being a trophy wife she couldn’t be bothered to raise our son, Tyler. I just couldn’t tolerate it anymore. I took so much emotional abuse from her during our relationship that I vowed after I left her that I wouldn’t tolerate any red flags. So, I’ve been single all these years afterwards; I haven’t had a serious relationship since the divorce.”
Sarah continues to chew silently, and I can tell she's mulling over my words. “You didn’t try to date?”
“Yes, several times. I can tell pretty quickly when it’s not a good fit. Especially for me.”
“Is it a standards thing?” she asks curiously, tilting her head just a little.
“Sure,” I quip. “And an emotional needs thing, an emotional intimacy thing, a physical thing…it’s multifaceted.”
“I get it. That's a long time to not be in a committed relationship, but it’s worse to be in a long-term relationship where the relationship is based on a lie, and you aren’t satisfied, you know?” She puts her fork down and sits back, sighing. “Because that shit is harder than what people realize. I think I’d rather be single myself, too. So I can’t blame you.”
I clear my throat, feeling validated with just a couple sentences from her. “Thank you, because I’ve felt very judged for a long time. From male friends especially…” I trail off, not wanting to get into all of that.
“So…you don’t jump into sex with women? I do find that interesting because you’re pretty prolific, no offense.” Sarahwhips her hair to the front of her body and begins to stroke down the tresses in what I'm noticing is a nervous tic with her.
I smile humorlessly, finishing off my omelet. “Hmm-hmm,” I reply simply, “I guess I am. Makes it harder for people to see the real me. All they want to see is the money and status. It’s annoying and makes it hard to have a sexual connection when all I can think about is what else they want from me.”
“I’d be annoyed, too,” she responds almost to herself. Her fingers leave her hair to begin a slow rapping on the countertop. “Uhm… so do you not, like,wantto provide? All you want is the emotional and physical connection?”
I stare at her for a second, fighting to not narrow my eyes. “Do you not see this house?”
Sarah looks around, arching a brow. “Yes, it’s pretty.”
“I bought it for her becauseshewanted it. I provide very well… she just didn’t deserve it, and I don’t feel bad telling you that at all. Is being provided for something that’s important to you?”
She bravely holds my stare. “I think it’ll be a hard adjustment for me, but I’dlikefor it to be. I’m not worried about it right now, anyways. I can take care of myself.”
I grunt softly and stab another piece of the omelet, deciding to change the subject. “So, what do you normally do with yourself on a Sunday?” I ask, watching her grab her orange juice without complaining like she did yesterday.
“I do my hair, watch a show, refresh my nails, and make dinner,” she says, deadpan her eyes falling to her fingers momentarily.
“Are you up for doing any of that today?” I ask, my eyes falling to her fingers as well and see her polish slightly growing out. I frown, not liking that for her, and an uncomfortable feeling settles inside of me because I know this bothers her more than she's letting on.
“No, just my hair and dinner. No mani or pedi today,” she sighs with a crestfallen look on her face.
“Why not?” I say, putting the last bite of food in my mouth.
