Today was the day.
I already had my note written and slipped into Grayson’s suit pocket. I also had a nice relaxing evening planned for when he returned. I was sure he was going to be wrung out, but ultimately this was going to be cathartic for him. I was sure of it.
I grabbed my phone to check my email, to see if the city had gotten back to me about the lack of water. It was criminal. While Grayson was at the prison, I was going down to city hall to lodge another complaint. There were elderly and children in the building, for goodness’ sake.
I chewed my lip. I should have been doing more, earlier. They were my neighbors, but I’d had to deal with Grayson’s brothers and setting up the visit to the prison with his father, which had involved a shocking amount of red tape. The FBI had been highly suspicious of why I wanted to see him until I finally got throughto them that the visit was for my boyfriend. Though maybe that was a good thing, considering what Stuart Richmond had done.
Said boyfriend stirred next to me.
“Rise and shine! The future is now!” I chirped.
He ran a hand through his hair.
I leaned down to kiss him. He grabbed the back of my head, kissing me harder.
“You want breakfast?” I offered. “I’m making omelets.”
“Thanks,” he said. “I’m going to work out first.”
It felt so intimate and domestic, us waking up together, me making him breakfast. I admired his body as he swung off the bed, stretched lightly, then walked to the bathroom, grabbing his exercise shorts on the way, gait perfectly balanced.
I think I love this man.
The feeling overwhelmed me, then settled.
It felt right, my love for him.
Grayson came back out and gave me a suspicious look.
“Why are you smiling at me like that?”
“No reason.”
“Uh-huh.”
“It feels like you’re plotting something.”
“Just the best darn omelet you’ve ever had.”
I couldn’t just servehim an omelet, so home fries and onions were sizzling in the pan, and the biscuits were baking in a cast-iron skillet in the oven.
My mom had sent us home with orange marmalade, and it was out on the table along with butter.
“Just in time,” I said as Grayson came to the table, dressed impeccably in his suit.
He poured me coffee from the pot then put a tea bag in a mug of hot water for himself and took them both to the table.
I slid the omelets onto the plates. They were heaped with sausage, cheddar cheese, peppers, and onions and garnished with chives.
“Hot, hot,” I said as I scooped out the biscuits, placing two each next to the home fries.
“Do you want to read the paper?” I asked him as I slid the plate to him. “Or do you need to answer emails?”
“I can make calls during the drive,” he said. “It’s a few hours upstate.”
“Do you have questions or discussion topics for your father?” I asked him carefully.
“I’m not sure what I’m going to say to him, to be honest.” Grayson looked out through the window to the terrace.
