Page 250 of Unexpected Ever After

“Today’s question is easy. What is your standard coffee order?”

Talk about basic, this one I’m totally on board with. The cup is filled with a dark black goodness that is beginning to wake up my senses. The fridge is within reaching distance, which is amazing. Opening the doors, I stare at the perfectly clean fridge, which is the exact opposite of mine. I spy the cream in the left-hand door and a sigh escapes my lips.

As I’m pouring the luscious white liquid into my cup, the color turns a perfect color of beige, then I hear a door slam. “Shit,” I squeal and spill cream onto the beautifully clean marble counters.

“Oh,” an older woman says. “I’m sorry for interrupting.” She stutters and I step back, my hip bumping into the sink.

“Crap on a cracker,” I spit out, grabbing my coffee and looking down at my bare legs. “Excuse me, I’ll be right back.”

Walking as fast as I can without spilling my coffee, I slam the door behind me as I enter the bedroom and slide down the door. My panty-clad bottom hitting the carpeted floor. I guess I should be thankful that it wasn’t Alexander coming in to see me in my black panties and oversized and faded Def Leppard concert tee.

Pulling my sleep shirt over my head, I toss it into the corner and make a mental note to find a laundry basket. Then dropping my panties to the floor, I pull on a pair of navy slacks and a cream tank top, with my hair in a French braid and ready to take on the day. Except I don’t have anything to do. “Humph.” I blow out. “Now what, Mr. Big?”

He stares at me, so I give him a quick pet and take my mug into the kitchen to formally introduce myself to his housekeeper.

“Good morning,” I begin. “I’m KJ, and Mr. Lake said I could stay here for a bit.”

“Good morning, Miss KJ. I’m Leah Light.” Her gray hair is pinned up and reminds me of Alice on the Brady Bunch. She smiles at me, and I decide not to even address my previous attire.

“Is there anything I can do to help you?” Ms. Light asks me. “Mr. Lake told me you would be making me a list of grocery items you need. Please let me know when you have that ready. I will do my shopping on Monday afternoons.”

The tone of her voice reminds me of my grandmother when I was growing up. Quiet and kind, yet authoritative when needed.

“I can get that done for you in just a few minutes. I need to make some breakfast super quick.” I place my mug in the sink and open the fridge.

“Oh no, Miss KJ. You don’t have to cook; I’ll take care of it for you. What would you like?”

I step out of her way and make my way to the bar stools on the other side, pulling one out. If she’s going to cook for me, then I’m going to at least chat with her while she does it.

“An omelet and toast would be great if you have the fixings.”

“Can do. What toppings would you like?”

“Goat cheese and bacon, or tomatoes if you don’t have the bacon.” It’s ironic that I can’t cook to save my life, and I stop every morning at the diner close to my house for a bacon and goat cheese omelet with toast and fruit. The first time I ordered it, the waitress crooked her eyes at me quizzically. Little did she know I’d been eating this since I was a kid.

“I believe we have bacon and tomatoes but no goat cheese. There is mozzarella and cheddar, but I’ll add it to my shopping list.”

“Cheddar works. I appreciate you taking the time to do this,” I say. If Leah cooks for me every morning, it’s going to be so hard to go back to the diner when I leave.

“No problem. I enjoy cooking and Mr. Lake is never home to eat it, so I don’t know if he likes what I cook, though he’s never complained.”

“Well, I’m going to love everything you make because I can’t cook and live on takeout.” I shrug my shoulders because my mother tried to teach me when I was a kid, but I never cared about it. Then when I was in college, I opted to live in the dorm all four years so I didn’t have to learn because I didn’t want to spend time cooking when I had to study. Plus, the cafeteria was open from six in the morning to midnight – why shouldn’t I take advantage of it?

While Leah makes my breakfast, I rummage in my work bag for a notebook and quickly list things I would like to eat. As I write the list, I realize how awful my handwriting is and slow down my writing so it’s at least semi-readable. Fruit, except bananas, goat cheese, bagels, and sparkling water are the only things I add.

Leah slides the plate in front of me, and it smells heavenly. “Would you like another coffee? I’m going to make myself some.”

“That would be divine. Thank you.” I cut into the omelet and the cheesy, bacony yumminess oozes out. Bringing the first bite to my mouth, I give it two quick blows before I slide the fork full of eggy deliciousness into my mouth.

As I eat the heavenly eggy goodness, I decide that since there isn’t much for me to do while I’m here, I’m going to try new things.

“Leah, I’m not sure what your hours are, but if you are back tomorrow, would you teach me how to make an omelet?” I ask her, my voice is a bit shaky. I never ask people for help. It’s one of the things my parents taught me—to be self-sufficient. Yet, if I’m honest, I’ve probably taken it a bit to the extreme. After my mother was accused of embezzlement, it was imperative that we each be able to take care of each other and ourselves. I decided at that moment, I’d never be dependent on a man or anyone else. Which is how I found myself in law school and now working as a partner in a firm. Yes, I may work for someone else, but if I ever wanted to I could go out on my own and make an extremely good living.

By the time five o’clock rolls around, Leah is heading out and I’m going stir crazy. Day one of two weeks living with a strange man and I don’t know how I’m going to handle this.

Mentally I run through my day and realize I failed to text Alexander my coffee order. Picking up my phone, I send him what he asked for.

Me: You requested my coffee order.

---