I pass one of her poetry books lying open on a pile of medical texts. It has lines that jut out at differentlengths. Grabbing a nearby pencil, I underline a few passages and smile. There. That’s romantic.
Hopefully, I didn’t just highlight something insane.
Next to the book is a tin of lemon drops, and I pop one, relishing the flavor ofScout’s kiss.
I start breakfast. Eggs. Toast. And bacon. I add pancakes to the menu just in case she doesn’t like the other options. Then slice avocados, tomatoes, and strawberries. Once everything is done, I lay it out like a buffet on the island. Rubbing my belly, I worry she won’t get up in time to enjoy it all hot and fresh.
She creeps out of our room, long, brown hair a tangled mess down her back.
“I feel spoiled! What’s all this?” she asks, voice still hoarse from sleep.
I gather her in my arms and hold her for a silent moment. Just feeling the weight of her body against mine. We sway in sync. As casually as I can, I sniff her skin, the smell wintry like juniper berries as I press my kiss to the top of her head.
“Is this how it’s going to be?” She softly peels back and glances up at me with a wondrous smile. “Because I could get used to all this.”
“Sure! I like to cook. Sundays can be buffet breakfast.”
A flicker of hesitation passes through her eyes as she asks, “And slow dancing before the meal?”
If I thought my feelings of gratitude for last night, of getting pulled toward her, couldn’t grow more, I was wrong. She appreciates our dance more than the food.
“Yeah,” I mutter through a tight throat. “Of course.”
Her hand reaches out to slide along my bare arm as she pulls me toward the kitchen and bar. We load up our plates,me letting her go first, though my stomach growls with incessant need.
“This is incredible! Thank you!”
“It’s just as much for me as for you. But I wanted to thankyoufor coming to my rescue last night.” Between bites, I confess something I need her to know. “I don’t normally drink that much. Just didn’t want you to think you married someone who gets so sloppy.”
She shrugs. “You’ve seen me sloppy. It’s fair. Besides, you were quite funny.”
“I was?”
Swiping at her chin with the back of her hand, she giggles, almost losing her bite. “Yeah. The, uh,Scout Songwas utterly phenomenal. Think you have a career in songwriting ahead of you.”
I groan. “Fuck. Forgot about that…”
“I wanna know who Scout isssssssss…… I want you to show meeeeeee….” She reminds me with a deep vocal croon.
I slap a hand to my forehead. “Don’t remind me.”
“But you really can sing! Even after falling from a keg stand. It’s impressive. Not to mention, theinsistenceon wearing your socks in the bathtub.”
“Stallions’ luck.”
“Well, they should win today, then.” She laughs silently, shoulders shaking.
I catch a tear on her cheek with my thumb. “Thanks for taking them off before I got into bed, though.”
“There wasno wayI was sleeping on soaked sheets. So you’re welcome.”
I nudge her arm with mine. “I got rid of the scary candy.”
Her eyes widen, but she doesn’t say anything.
“Saw it in the trash, so I emptied it,” I clarify.
With a long chew, she almost chokes. “T-Thank you.”
