Whispered Prayers of a Girl

Looking over my shoulder to make sure I’m not caught, I quickly walk over to the sink and open the small medicine cabinet. I almost shout with elation when I see a bottle of mint mouthwash. As I grab it, I spot a can of shaving cream, a razor, several bottles of prescription medicine, a bottle of cologne, a toothbrush and toothpaste, and several other items you normally see in a medicine cabinet. My eyes linger on the medicine bottles, my curiosity piqued. Some say you can find out a lot about a person by their prescriptions. I personally think that’s a load of crap. But the bottles do leave me wondering what he takes and why. Are any of them pain medications? By the scars on his face and arms, the extent of his injuries had to have been extreme. I can imagine he may still have pain on occasion.

My eyes next stop on the aftershave, and I feel an unreasonable need to sniff it. Would the smell be strong and overpowering like some men wear, or subtle, just barely giving off a slight masculine scent? I personally like the latter. One of the biggest turn-offs for me is not being able to breathe because of the overwhelming scent of cologne on a man.

I chastise myself for even thinking about such a thing right now. It doesn’t matter what cologne the man wears. It’s not like I’ll be getting close enough to choke on his scent anyway.

I grab the big bottle of mouthwash, then pour some of the minty green liquid in the cap and tip it to my lips. It burns as I swish it around, but it’s a good kind of burn. I watch myself in the mirror for a good thirty seconds as my cheeks puff out. Tipping my head back, I gargle.

When I bring my head back down, it’s not only me looking back in the mirror, but Alexander’s dark gaze as well. He’s leaning against the doorjamb with his arms crossed over his muscular chest with a firm look plastered on his face. Seeing him standing there surprises me, and I accidently swallow some of the mouthwash. I start choking, and I try to spit the mouthwash into the sink, b

ut end up spraying the mirror in the process. I bend over the sink and hack up a lung or two.

By the time I’m done, my arms are crossing the sink with my forehead resting on them. It’s then that embarrassment hits me. I stay hunched over the sink for several minutes, not only catching my breath, but avoiding looking at Alexander too. My face is hot, so I know it’s red, from both coughing so much and embarrassment.

I’m such an idiot. I knew I shouldn’t have come in here without asking him. I should have waited. He probably wouldn’t have minded. He said to make ourselves at home last night. I’m sure he didn’t mean go into his bathroom and rummage around.

Knowing I can’t put it off any longer, I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand and lift my head, my eyes meeting his in the mirror. He’s still standing in the same position as he was when I first noticed him. He looks relaxed, but that could be deceptive. Today he’s wearing a pair of dark jeans, slightly worn at the knees, and a dark green T-shirt with a thermal underneath.

I straighten and turn to face him.

“I’m sorry,” I say. I taste the mouthwash when I lick my lips, and I rush on. “I hate not brushing my teeth and you didn’t have any mouthwash in your spare bathroom, so I decided to check in here. I’m sorry,” I repeat.

I want to pull my eyes away from his penetrating dark ones, but I force myself to hold his stare. I do shuffle my feet though. There’s no stopping that. I start to fidget when he doesn’t say anything. I’m just about to blurt another apology, when he straightens.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, backing out of the bathroom. He holds up a black backpack. “Got this from your truck.”

I sag in relief and smile, my embarrassment forgotten. “Thank you.”

I grab it from him and hold it to my chest, not even caring that he got my keys from my purse. After a minute, he turns on his heel and walks out of the bedroom, leaving me with my bag. I consider whether to follow him and use the spare bathroom to change and brush my teeth and hair, or just stay here and use this one. He seemed okay that I was in here, but I don’t want to push it. After wiping down the mirror with a rag I found underneath the sink, I decide to use the spare one.

Once I’m done, I go back out into the living room and find Daniel has abandoned his mixing bowl and is lying on his back with a puppy on his chest and Gigi lying beside him. Alexander’s stirring the fire. Kelsey’s still at the bar, no longer mixing, but doing her crossword puzzle. I didn’t realize she’d brought it with her until I saw her working on it yesterday evening. It doesn’t surprise me though. She always has one with her.

I stop at the end of the couch and Alexander looks over at me. “I’m making eggs and pancakes. Would you like some?”

He gives me a nod and goes back to poking the fire with the fire iron.

“Daniel,” I call. “We have a bag in the bathroom. There’s a change of clothes, toothbrush, and toothpaste. Go get changed and brush your teeth, please.”

“Okay, Mom,” he responses, barely giving me a glance, too distracted by the puppies.

“Daniel.” I say his name again when he makes no move to get up. I lift my brow at him when he finally looks at me.

“Okay, okay,” he grumbles before getting up and dragging his feet as he walks to the bathroom.

When I pass by Kelsey, I tell her, “When your brother’s done, it’s your turn, sweetie.” All I get in return is a short nod.

Fifteen minutes later, I place a plate in front of a newly changed Kelsey and call Daniel to the bar. Looking over their shoulders once he’s seated, I spot Alexander on the couch and decide to make him a plate. After piling several pancakes and some eggs on one plate and a smaller portion on another, I grab them and tuck the syrup underneath my arm.

I hold the plate out to him and he takes it with a muttered, “Thanks.”

“Would you like something to drink?” I ask.

“I’m good.”

I go back for my cup of coffee, then sit at the other end of the couch. Seeing the weather channel playing on the TV reminds me I haven’t even looked outside to see if it’s still snowing. “How does it look outside?”

“Very white,” he remarks.

I laugh, then look over when I feel his eyes on me. He has a weird expression on his face. His brows are pulled down low, and it almost looks like he’s in pain. The look confuses me, but I decide to ignore it.