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For a few minutes, I just lie there, savoring the quiet, the warmth, the slow rise and fall of his strong chest.
It's one of those rare, perfect moments where everything feels right.
Eventually, though, his eyelids flutter open, and he squints at me groggily.
“Morning, Sleeping Beauty,” I whisper, stroking his hair.
He grins lazily, his voice a sleepy rumble. “If I’m Sleeping Beauty, does that make you Prince Charming?”
“Obviously. Who else would rescue you from your terrible bedhead?”
He chuckles, pulling me closer. “I think I’m more of a Beast to your Belle, to be honest.”
I raise an eyebrow and give his hair another playful ruffle. "Maybe. But you'd better not start singing about having a ‘hairy situation’. I haven't had my caffeine-free tea yet."
"All right, all right. How about I make the tea while you ogle my majestic bedhead?"
"Deal." I smirk, shifting to look him in the eyes. "But only because you're better in the kitchen, and I’m still in awe of your multitasking abilities."
His eyes sparkle with mischief as he stretches, the movement pulling us even closer for a moment. “You haven’t seen anything yet, Prince Charming. Wait until I whip up breakfast.”
Sliding out of bed, he slips back into his boxer briefs and heads to the kitchen. As soon as I slip into an oversized t-shirt and socks, I follow, my cotton-covered feet barely making a sound on the wood floor.
As he fills the kettle, I lean against the counter, thinking of how much of a sight he is to see.
Jacob Walker. My Jacob. Half-naked and ready to make me a meal.
I sigh. “So, what’s on the menu today? Eggs à la Jacob with a side of sarcasm?”
Jacob smirks, tossing a wink over his shoulder. “You wish. Maybe some pancakes with a sprinkle of my charm, if you’re lucky.”
I laugh, watching him move with an easy confidence. “I’m pretty sure last time you attempted pancakes, we ended up with more batter on the ceiling than on our plates. Let’s stick to something simpler. How about toast?”
“Toast? Way to set the bar high, Gabi." He turns to face me, the kettle starting to whistle. “But fine, toast it is. I’ll make it gourmet just for you.”
“Gourmet toast? Now that I have to see."
As he pops the bread into the toaster, he suddenly turns to me with a playful but soft look in his eyes. “You know, for two people that joke around this much about breakfast, we’re kind of like an old married couple already.”
His words catch me off guard, and I blink in surprise. An old married couple? Is that what we’re becoming?
The thought makes my heart skip a beat—not in a bad way, but in a way that I didn’t expect this early in the morning.
The smile on my face falters, leaving me staring at him in silence, the toaster's soft hum filling the gap left by my sudden quiet.
"An old married couple, huh? You sure you're not jumping the gun, Jacob? We're supposed to be fooling everyone else, not fooling ourselves." I try to laugh it off, pretending his words don’t make my pulse race.
He doesn’t laugh.
Instead, he turns back to the toaster, a frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. The silence stretches unbearably, making me wish I had said something less dismissive.
“Maybe I’m not fooling myself, Gabi,” he says quietly, his voice thicker than usual.
The toast pops up, but he doesn't reach for it immediately.
“This...this feels real to me. More than just a charade for everyone else’s sake. What if I want this to be more?”
My stomach twists. I wasn’t prepared for this conversation over burnt toast. “Jacob, we agreed—”
