Page 5

The coffee cannot brew fast enough.

I knew as soon as my alarm went off this morning that I was out way too late last night. This isn’t an alcohol hangover. No, this is the lack of sleep hangover. This is what happens when you try to stay out and act like you’re twenty when you’re almost forty…one.

“You seem to be lagging this morning,” Heath says as he comes breezing through the kitchen, stopping next to me and dropping a kiss on my cheek. I am not a morning person, and he always has been. On the rare occasion when we’ve gone out for drinks with our friends knowing full well the night is going to end with each of us needing an Uber to get home, Heath can be on the riding lawn mower the next day while I’m barely able to rotate from my back to my stomach on the couch.

“Yeah, Ruby and I had a lot of catching up to do.”

“How can you ladies talk for hours when you practically speak every day?” He reaches over my shoulder, grabbing a mug from the shelf.

“We like to talk, Heath. There isn’t anything wrong with that.” I bring the mug up to my mouth and blow, trying to cool it down.

He drops a spoon full of sugar into his mug then pours the black coffee in. This is how he ‘mixes’ it up. He thinks the spoon gives the coffee a metallic taste, so he doesn’t like to stir. Plus he always says the last sip is like coffee candy. “I get that Whit. I talk to my friends just about every day, but not for hours on end.”

I watch as he strides across the kitchen, taking his normal seat at the table. He starts up his tablet, going through his emails and reaching out to contractors, I’m sure. This is our routine every morning, but this morning it grates on my nerves a little bit, and I know it’s because the conversation I had with Ruby last night is still fresh on my mind.

Pulling out the lunch meat, cheese and condiments I start making Heath’s lunch. This is something that I’ve done for years. When we were first married, it was because it was cheaper for me to send him on his way with a homemade lunch rather than him buy out every day. Now I do it because I’m up and I’ve got nothing better to do. Or maybe because I’ve been doing it for so long it’s expected of me?

“Why do you still make my lunch?” He drops his tablet on the table and turns in his chair.

“Pardon?”

“My lunch Whit, why do you keep doing it? You know that I can always buy my lunch. You don’t need to waste your mornings making me something I can grab on my own.”

“I do it because I like to.”

“Are you sure about that?” he deadpans.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

He shakes his head. “Because I can hear you mumbling about still having to make it after all these years.”

“I said that?”

“Yeah, babe, you did. So I’m telling you now, you don’t have to do that anymore.”

“I’m sorry, I’m tired. I guess I’m crabby.”

He turns back to his tablet while I continue to make his lunch. The clicking of Harper’s nails tells me that she’s up. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see her waiting at the back door. “Can you let Harper out?”

“Busy, babe,” he says before he takes a sip of his coffee.

Dropping the jar of mayo on the counter, I make my way over to the slider, which is directly behind Heath, and let the dog out. “You’re coming to the kids’ games today, right?” I ask while I wait for Harper to do her business and get her tail back inside.

“Yeah, sure.”

When I turn around, closing the door behind me, I notice the calendar has a bright red circle around this Saturday’s date. I can’t believe I forgot about it. “Well, crap. The Builder’s Awards are this weekend. I completely forgot about it. Why haven’t you said anything?” I ask as I walk past him.

“Thought you’d remember.” He gets up from the table, pushing in his chair. “Hey, babe?” He stops and props his hip on the counter.

I glance up at him, and then back to the bread in my hand. “Yeah?”

“Can you make sure you add more mayo and mustard? They’re always a bit dry by the time I get around to eating them. Thanks, babe.”

He wraps one arm around me, squeezing me to his body before leaving me in the kitchen.