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“I’ve got workout clothes here. No worries. I’ll text Nay and Sabrina and tell ‘em to wear the same.”
“Thanks, Grace. Mornin’ Jonah.”
“Mornin’ Chloe,” Jonah replies with a little smile.
“Get back here, wife; your bare legs are showing, and you’ve got no panties on.”
I shiver and I swat Derek’s arm with my hand passing him to go back to the dresser to grab more clothes. When I come out, Derek is coming in with a mug of coffee in his hand.
“For you,” he says.
“My hero,” I whisper.
He gives me a soft kiss before he hands it to me.
This all feels so strange.
“Wanna have a quick conversation with the cook if you’re all right here.”
“I’m good,” I say.
“Be back,” he advises, kissing me again.
I take a mouthful of coffee and savor it. He knows just how I like it.
I look around, taking the space in more thoroughly, able to do so now that I’m not engaged in sex (that he also knows how to do the way I like…) and now that the sun has come up.
This room doesn’t have childhood or teenaged Derek memories in it. No old trophies, pictures, or anything to mark milestones. It’s just his old room, all his old memories and mementoes cleared away at some stage. And I’m disappointed that it’s not a shrine to a younger Derek. I’m wishing I’d gotten a better look at that photo collage yesterday before it caught fire.
I can’t fathom what his childhood entailed. And to not have support through it, instead to have all the division.
These siblings weren’t there for one another the way you’d think they’d be. At least some of them weren’t. Thad was a pot stirrer. Seems like Derek behaved like an outsider. Naomi and Asher were close, but I don’t know when that changed. And no wonder Grace ignores boundaries. She’s trying to bridge gaps all the time, for people she cares about. They grew up mostly apart at different boarding schools. Eli as the first born likely has a lot on his shoulders, seems to be the first one Michael hollers at when things go wrong. I hate the idea of this. If we ever get to a point where we choose to have children, I already know that I don’t want nannies to raise my kids, I don’t want boarding schools to ever even enter the conversation. I want my future kids to be with me until they choose to go away to school or move off on their own.
I also don’t want my kids to sit at a stuffy table in a stuffy room watching all the adults get drunk in order to tolerate being together.
It’s too soon to think about kids, so I decide to push it out of my mind. Derek and I have a long way to go before I can think about that. A very long way.
Derek comes to get me just before nine o’clock, a smile on his face.
“I was wondering where you got to,” I say.
“I made pancakes,” he says.
“Pancakes?”
“We gave the staff the morning off. Me and my brothers made breakfast. It’s ready.”
He leads me through a maze of hallways to a humongous kitchen that’s a cross between a residential and commercial kitchen. So many counters. Walk-in fridge, freezer, and pantry. In the corner is a large butcher’s block table set for everyone. Platters of pancakes, bacon, sausage, and home fries are in chafing dishes. Everyone is dressed casually, including Sabrina, who is at the table in the corner, sipping from a mug. Grace waves to me from the counter where she’s grinding coffee beans.
I wave back and give Sabrina a hesitant smile. She doesn’t return it, but her eyes warm slightly.
“Morning,” I greet.
“Hi Chloe,” she says.
Introductions weren’t necessary yesterday, so they obviously aren’t now.
Carson wheels Michael in and he’s frowning.
