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“Are you angry at me?”
I sigh deeply. “Olivia, I’m not your keeper. You told me that this morning. What you do in your off-hours is none of my business.”
“You are angry. Can we talk about this?”
“There is nothing to talk about. You’re an adult and a guest in my home.”
“You know how to make someone feel like a piece of shit.”
“What are you talking about?”
“That guest in my home shit! Like I owe you something.” She drops her purse on the floor and shrugs out of her coat, letting it fall to the floor in the doorway. Then she starts unbuttoning her blouse.
“What the fuck are you doing?” I call out. “Get undressed in your room!”
“You want to fuck me? I’m making it easy for you.”
Olivia pulls off her blouse, and as her hand goes to the button of her jeans, I fly out of bed to stop her.
“Stop it. I’m not requesting anything of you.”
“Aren’t you, Lucian? You’re lovesick. You can say you don’t want me all you want, but I know better. I see how you look at me.”
I rake my hands through my hair. “Olivia, are you kidding? Who kissed me this morning? Who sleeps in my bed using the excuse that they’re cold? If I wanted to fuck you, I would have seduced you already. I want you to get well. I’m asking nothing from you but a little consideration.”
“Consideration?”
“Yes. Like you could have let me know you weren’t going to be home until late. I cooked thinking you would be joining me for dinner. Plus, I worry.”
I pick her coat, blouse, and purse off the floor and hand them to her. She eyes me suspiciously, then heads to her bedroom.
“Are you still going to sleep with me tonight?” I ask softly.
She doesn’t turn, but says, “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
I smile and pick up the book I was reading. A half-hour goes by, and Olivia hasn’t come to my room. Slightly worried, I go to search for her and find her asleep on her bed in her usual white nightgown. I carry her to my bed and lay her under the sheets, then join her, wrapping my arms around her waist. She must sense I’m here because she entwines her fingers with mine.
The next morning, a delicious aroma rouses me. Olivia is no longer in bed, and I assume that she’s made something for breakfast. I slide out of bed and pad barefoot out to the kitchen. She looks right at home, making pancakes.
“What are you doing?” I ask, getting closer.
“You cooked dinner, so I’m cooking breakfast. I hope you like chocolate chip pancakes.”
I smile. “I do.”
“Then take a seat. We have plenty of time before work.”
I’d planned on working out before showering, but I will have to fit it into my schedule tonight. Any anger I had towards her is gone.
“I don’t remember getting into bed with you last night,” she says, her back to me.
“You didn’t. I found you asleep in your room, and I carried you to mine.”
“Oh, you didn’t have to do that.”
“I wanted to. I like having you next to me.”
“I’m sorry about last night,” she apologizes sheepishly. “It was inconsiderate.”
