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"What's this?" I asked, yawning as I rubbed my eyes.
Erika walked through the bedroom door, holding a tray in her hands. The aroma of the food tickled my nose, and my stomach growled with hunger. She placed the wooden tray on the bed, revealing poached eggs on English muffins, generously covered in Hollandaise sauce. I’d only mentioned my love for this breakfast once, and seeing it now made my heart jump. The meal was completed with a side of crispy bacon, a glass of orange juice, and a steaming mug of coffee.
"You made me Eggs Benedict?" I asked, my voice small with surprise.
"Not exactly," she replied with a smile. "I didn’t have Canadian bacon, so I gave you a side of bacon instead."
"Still, Hollandaise isn’t easy to make," I said, impressed.
"You’re turning me domestic," she teased.
She handed me the tray, and my mouth watered as I took in the spread.
"What about you?" I asked.
I was grateful for the care Erika took. She knew I was hurting and needed comfort.
"I had a bagel and coffee earlier," she said, waving it off.
"You should’ve woken me up," I said, frowning slightly.
"You had a hard sleep."
"Hard?" I repeated, confused.
"You were whimpering, talking about Michael’s leg," she explained.
I wracked my brain trying to remember the dream, but it slipped away, just out of reach.
"He broke it when he was fourteen," I revealed. "He insisted on climbing a wall and walking along the top. He slipped."
"It doesn’t surprise me," she said, nodding. "All the memories of your brother are flooding back."
"I’m supposed to have lunch with my family today. Do you mind?" I asked, hoping she wouldn’t take it the wrong way.
She plopped down on the bed, ran her finger along the rim of my plate, and scooped up some Hollandaise sauce. She pressed her finger to my mouth, and I licked it clean.
"Of course not. Don’t be ridiculous."
"Not ridiculous," I returned. "I care about your feelings."
"What kind of person would I be if I stood in the way of your family? I hope one day to meet them all."
"You know Michael. He once mentioned you," I said, cutting into the English muffin and watching the yolk ooze out, mingling with the Hollandaise sauce.
"Only once?" she asked with a raised brow.
"He was stuck on Morgan."
Erika’s expression softened, but there was a hint of tension in her eyes.
"Promise me you’ll forgive her?" she asked softly.
"I’ll try for your sake," I replied, knowing it wasn’t going to be easy.
"She’s a wonderful person. I don’t want to be separated from her."
I started to cough, feeling the weight of her words. "I would never ask you to distance yourself from her. I don’t have to see her."
