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“Breakfast for dinner, huh?” I ask as I step into the kitchen.
“Colton!” she blurts, turning around and throwing a hand over her chest. “What are you doing here?”
“I live here, remember?” I say, cocking my head to the side.
“Didn’t you have a business dinner? You scared me.”
I chuckle, until I realize her face is pale, and her breaths are coming in ragged gasps. I guess I really scared her. “Sorry. The event got canceled.” As I cross my arms, I can’t fight a smile. “So, that’s what you eat when Agnes has the night off and I’m not around?”
“Yep,” she says, returning my smile before sprinkling powdered sugar atop a large plate of French toast. “I love breakfast for dinner.”
“Me too,” I say. “Can I join you?”
“Sure. I made plenty,” she says with a nod. She settles down at the table, and then I have an idea.
“I’ll be right back.” I walk to the wine cellar and find a bottle of champagne that I know is sweet enough to pair with French toast.
Jane raises her eyebrows in surprise when I place it on the table.
“What?” I say. “Never heard of French toast and champagne? Wonderful pairing. Trust me,” I say with a wink.
It’s funny. I was in a bad mood all day, but coming home to French toast has lifted my spirits. I could get used to this.
She giggles, and I pour us each a drink. Once we clink our glasses, an awkward silence fills the room. We haven’t really spent time alone together since our first date. I’m not often home, and when I am, we don’t really hang out. I have my habits and don’t want to crowd her space. Plus, I enjoy being alone more than anything else.
“So, did you have a good day?” she asks, taking a sip of champagne. “Mmm. It’s so good. And you’re right, it does go well with this.”
“Told you,” I say with a smile. She looks away. “And no, horrible day, actually. But it happens.” I shrug. “What about you? How is the wedding planning going? As fun as you hoped it would be?”
She winces. “Agnes is a big help. So much so that she’s practically doing all the work.”
“Ah, yes. She’s very dedicated. I’ll tell her to let you be more involved.”
“Thanks. Oh, I had lunch and went shopping with Marcie and Jules Rosemont. They’re really nice.”
“Oh, yeah? The Rosemonts are one of the few neighbors I actually like. Their parents have values very similar to mine, and they’re good people.” I fork my last piece of French toast.
“Well, I’ll clean up and go back to my wing, let you wind down after your terrible day.” Her smile is all I need to forget all about it.
Getting up, I say, “I’ll help. And you don’t have to go because of me.”
She doesn’t reply. With a shy smile, she takes both our plates and rinses them. Then, I put them in the dishwasher. She washes the pan and utensils she used to cook, and I wait for her to pass them to me so I can dry them. This is something I haven’t done in a long time. And even when I did, it was always alone. Doing this with someone else is actually quite enjoyable.
“So,” I say, slapping the towel over my shoulder. “What do you want to do now?”
Surprise flashes across her face. “What do you mean?”
“If you want, we can hang out. Watch a movie or something?” I liked this coming home to something—to someone. This eating together thing. This doing the dishes thing. More than I ever expected. Going upstairs to spend the evening alone after all that feels like a waste of a possibility, and a waste of good champagne. We’ve only had one drink each. “We can’t let that bottle go to waste,” I add.
She licks her lips. “You’re right about that. That stuff is delicious. How about we play a game, then?”
I quirk an eyebrow. “What game?”
“Monopoly, of course! You have that incredible room and that huge collection. I’m dying to play.”
A slow smile builds on my lips. “Fine. But I’m warning you, you will lose. I always win at Monopoly.”
She shoots me a smirk. “Game on.”
