Page 6 of Erik

“What’s that?” He arches an eyebrow when I get to the kitchen.

I grin and stoop to plant a noisy kiss on his cheek. “I was just reminding myself how wonderful my business partner is.”

He tsk-tasks. “Open flattery is never a good sign. What gives?”

I ruffle his dirty-blond curls. “You know me so well.”

On the counter, the espresso machine is ready to brew my latte, thanks to Hadley’s organizational skills. I just press a button and, while it whirls and huffs away, I amble to the kitchen island where he’s laid half a dozen paper bags from a nearby coffeeshop.

As I inspect their contents, I add, “Food for thought, pun intended, when you get to the office and open my inbox, remember you love me, okay?”

He raises his hands in the air. “I can’t promise you anything, but I’ll do my best.”

“Your best is enough for me.” I pile a couple of waffles on a plate, retrieve my favorite mug from the espresso machine, and take a seat across from him at the round kitchen table.

I drench the waffles in butterscotch before stuffing my mouth with a chunk of heaven. With a long inhale, I lean back on the wicker chair, and munch on the sweet.

Hadley takes a spoon of cereal to his mouth. After swallowing, he apologizes, “Sorry I started without you.”

I wave his worry away. “That’s why I gave you a key.”

He winks. “To bring you food and dog sit Caramel?”

I wink. “Guilty as charged.”

When I unfold from the chair to refill my oversized mug, the imprint from the wickerwork seat stings the back of my thighs under the thin material of the shorts I wear for morning workouts. After pouring another generous dose of caffeine, I arrange a few rolls in the toaster on the kitchen island and turn the appliance on. That’s the usual cue for the lightbulbs in the living room chandelier to flicker.

They don’t fail today, which makes Hadley groan like a kid seeing their older brother snatch the last cookie in the jar.

I chuckle.

Elbows flanking his bowl of cereal, he laces his fingers, nestles his chin on them, and frowns.

I arch an eyebrow. “What?”

“Need ask? I’ve graciously accepted your invitation to buy you breakfast at this ungodly hour. I’m fine with that. But Victorian houses aren’t my scene. All this…,” he waves his long fingers in a large circle around himself, “…creaking woodwork, faulty wiring. This house gives me the creeps.” With a shudder, he resumes munching on the honey-colored tiny rings.

I place the plate of toasted rolls on the table between us, and plop back on the chair.

I whisper, “Where you see creaking wood, I see cherrywood accents and oak flooring. You say old, I call it memories. This place was the only home I’ve ever had before I left for MIT.”

“To bury your nose in books,” he fake punches my shoulder. “If you hadn’t met me, you’d have cruised college unscathed.Booooooring.” He elongates the vowel as his eyes roll up his skull. “True story. I saved your life.”

Shaking my head, laughter rumbling inside my chest, I appreciate his goofy way of taking my mind of hurtful subjects.

With a fake haughty expression, I agree, “That you did. Also, thank you for twisting my arm into opening a business with you.”

He bows his head. “You’re very welcome.”

I sip the latte and sober up. “I am truly grateful for that, H. Thanks to SafeSound I saved this house from foreclosure. If only renovations had finished before Grandma Betty passed.” My voice wavers as bitter tears prick the back of my eyes.

I stuff my mouth with a large bite of a nutty muffin and chew, gazing out of the window at the cloudless sky. Memories of the sweet lady who had welcomed me into her heart as if I were her real granddaughter flood my mind. At fourteen, I had nobody when I arrived in this country. At seventy, Betty and Henry didn’t have anybody after their only son committed suicide.

“Earth to Miss Christine Daee.” Hadley’s voice pierces my foggy recollection.

He snaps his fingers in front of my nose.

I crack up and his perennial upbeat mood dissipates my gloomy thoughts.

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