Page 5 of The One That I Want

‘Good morning, darling. How did you sleep?’ he asks cheekily.

‘Fine until our cat decided to join us,’ I say, stifling a yawn. ‘I’m not loving this newfound desire to sleep with us – especially when she has her own room.’ Previously, we had a guest room with a study nook. Now we have ‘Saffron’s room’, where she sleeps on the bed all day, only changing positions to chase the sun (when it’s out).

Tristan props himself up, lifts Saffron one-handed, and puts her on the floor. ‘Off you go, Saffy,’ he coos.

Well, she doesnotlike that. There’s a disdainful ‘meow’ and she struts out of our room like a cat on a mission – probably to post on socials about how hard her life is.

‘Not sure if I’m still her favourite after that,’ he says, leaning over to kiss my cheek.

‘Ah-hah! So, you admit it,’ I say.

He chuckles again and gets out of bed. ‘Tea?’ he asks.

‘Have I told you how much I love you?’

‘Not today,’ he says from the doorway.

‘I love you!’ I call out before surrendering to a yawn.

I’m usually a morning person. I’m also not one of those people who lives for the weekends. Ilovebeing an agent at the Ever After Agency, but after a sleepless night due to a certain feline, I could easily steal another half-hour under the duvet. Surely Saskia and Paloma, who run the agency, won’t mind if I’m alittlebit late.

‘Darling, it’s nearly six-thirty,’ Tristan says from the kitchen.

My eyes pop open – bugger, I must have drifted off.

‘Thank you!’

‘And tea’s ready.’

‘Coming.’

I pad to the kitchen and take up a spot at the breakfast bar, where a steaming mug of tea awaits. No dainty china teacup for me this morning – Tristan has busted out the big guns. The only thing we own that’s bigger than my ‘World’s Best Friend’ mug is a bucket. He’s also made me breakfast: three Weetabix and milk.

‘I love you more than I did ten minutes ago,’ I say before taking a sip of tea.

‘Much on for the start of the week?’ he asks.

‘Finalising some paperwork on the reunited lovers’ case?—’

‘The two ninety-year-olds?’

‘That’s the one. They aresosweet, Tris. Iris told me to expect a wedding invitation.’

‘I’ll have to dust off the tux.’

‘Isupposeyou can be my plus one,’ I tease, and the corners of his eyes crease over the rim of his mug.

‘I also have a meeting with a new client this arvo – a school friend of Saskia and Paloma’s. The agency’s way of returning a massive favour she did for us back in March.’

‘So, a VIP?’ he asks.

‘Yep.’

‘Like I was.’ Tristan’s dark-amber eyes twinkle with mirth.

‘Boy, you have tickets on yourself, Mr Fellows.’

He laughs at that, then tucks into his breakfast.

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