When I woke up the next day, Muse was already wide awake. She’d already showered, had breakfast, and now she was reading beside me, scrolling through a novel on her tablet. She was in black leggings and a long-sleeved shirt, dressed for fall.
I squinted my eyes and stared at her alarm clock.
It was three in the afternoon.
Jesus.
I was always up by seven. With the time change, the lack of sleep, jet lag, and a night catching up on good sex, I was knocked out.
I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and groaned. “Shit…it’s late.”
She set down her tablet and turned over to face me. “It’s okay to sleep in once in a while. Or, for the first time ever, in your case.”
Even when we were in Greece, I was up early in the morning. I took care of emails and did my daily sit-ups and push-ups before I watched the sun rise. I propped myself on my elbow and looked down at Muse. I missed waking up to her face first thing in the morning. I preferred to see her when her face was free of makeup, and her skin was beautiful from resting all night. But she was still absolutely stunning. “This feels like a dream.”
“But better, because it’s real.” She leaned down to kiss me on the mouth.
My lips moved with hers, and the tightness in my chest slipped away. My hand slid into her hair, and I smelled her perfume. I’d fantasized about the smell, treasured it as it remained glued to my sheets. Once that smell had faded away, I’d felt like I lost her all over again.
“Want some breakfast?” she asked.
“You cook?”
“Yes.” She gave me a playful slap on the arm. “You would know that if Dante let me do something once in a while.”
“You know how he is. The proudest man I know.”
She released a loud scoff. “Maybe one of them. But definitely not the proudest.”
I followed her out of the bedroom, dressed in my boxers and the t-shirt I wore yesterday. She had two large couches and one armchair on a colorful rug. A large TV was on the wall. There were paintings hanging, all of them images of Italy.
I knew that wasn’t a coincidence.
She grabbed her ingredients out of the fridge and the pantry and started to cook at the counter.
“Need help?”
“Nope.” She poured me a fresh mug of coffee.
I sipped it as I watched her move in the kitchen. She made pancakes on the stove, baked the bacon in the oven, and whipped up scrambled eggs. Within ten minutes, she served me a meal full of carbs, fat, and sugar.
I hadn’t had a breakfast like this in years. “I’m surprised you had all this around the house.”
“I went to the store when you were asleep.” She sat in the seat perpendicular to me, her hair curled and earrings in her lobes. She was thinner since the last time I saw her. Andrew must have asked her to drop a few extra pounds. Unless she was just depressed and didn’t eat.
I ate everything on my plate, loving the fluffy cakes and even the syrup. The bacon was crispy, just the way I liked it. When it came to Muse, I always felt the urge to take care of her, to make sure my chef made the food she liked and picked out the clothes she wanted. I’d never had a woman take care of me before. I was perfectly capable of making my own food, but it was entertaining to watch her do it.
Watch her do something for me.
The second I was reunited with her, I felt better. Like I’d been in a desert for three months, I was dehydrated, sick, and losing my mind. But now I was refreshed, getting everything I needed to nurse me back to health.
Her plate was mediocre, a single pancake, half a slice of bacon, and scrambled egg whites. I preferred to see her eat a real meal. Andrew wanted her to be as slim as possible, but thinner wasn’t necessarily better. I liked seeing a little stomach on her, more meat on her thighs. I wanted her to come home with me so she could eat all she wanted.
Like a real woman.
I pushed my plate away and adjusted my position in my chair so I could face her better, so I could watch her put the small bites into her mouth. This was one of the things I missed most, having the privilege of staring at her during all my meals. She was far more entertaining than a TV program or a piece of art.
She smiled slightly when she became aware of my stare. “Some things never change, huh?”
“No.” I propped my elbow on the table and rested my chin against my fingertips. “We’ll return home tomorrow. That should give you the afternoon to tell Andrew you’re leaving.”