Page 50 of Robert

Hopping out, he came around to open her door. “Cold?” He asked solicitously, when she shivered slightly.

“A little bit.” She wrapped her jacket around her more securely as they made their way towards the door the old-fashioned oak door.

Pushing it open, he stepped back and waited until an elderly lady made her way out. Sonya watched as he patiently adjusted her brown paper bag for her. The woman smiled at him gratefully as she moved away.

Sonya felt something shifted inside her as she watched him. He was so patient. He was tough and jaded, but there was a gentleness about him that was highly appealing.

“You, okay?”

She shook her head and preceded him into the dim interior. “I think she was crushing on you.” She told him teasingly.

“Who?” Taking her elbow, he guided them inside.

“The old lady.”

“Now you’re being ridiculous.”

“Right.” She laughed at the look he gave her, before turning to greet Monica, who came bustling towards them with open arms.

“Sonya, my dear! It’s been several weeks.”

“I know. I have been busy.” She returned the woman’s hug, before turning to introduce Robert.

“Monica, this is my husband, Robert Faulkner.” She was so intent on greeting the woman, she never noticed the unbelievable expression on his face. His heart went still and then picked up speed and he could feel his body shuddering.

“Husband?” The woman turned to him with a beaming smile. “I know you, don’t I?”

“You might. He is a big deal.” Sonya said with a smile.

“Oh, my dear. I am so happy for you. And such a handsome man. I like them tall and lean.” Monica gave him an admiring look. “Come, I have the perfect table for you. One where you will have some privacy.”

She bustled away with them following her and showed them to a table in a corner of the room. The place was not packed, but had a few people sitting around, eating stacks of pancakes, with the scent of bacon and sausages permeating the air.

“The usual?”

“Yes. Robert? Coffee and some fruit.”

The woman looked so disappointed that he relented and told her that he would have some pancakes and sausages as well.

“Good.” Clapping her hands, she went away to see to their orders.

“I think she likes you.”

“Does she?” He waited until she was seated before sliding across from her. “How often do you come here?”

“At least twice a week. Whenever the weather gets too much, I have them deliver. Remember, I don’t cook.”

“How could I forget?” He teased.

“I have to keep reminding you.” She told him loftily.

“No reminders necessary.”

Their meals were brought, with a full pot of coffee.

He stared at the stack of pancakes on her plate and lifted his head to stare at her.

“Don’t judge,” she warned.

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