Page 86 of Fumbled Into Love

“Are you all early risers?” Nathalie grumbles, shoving a pillow against her head as she attempts to burrow deeper into the bed sheets.

When I woke up this morning, she was tangled in the flat sheet, Gordie held tightly in her grip, the two of them slightly snoring.

I took a photo to remember the moment, to reminisce on how adorable they are together, even if Gordie is an asshole. He’s my asshole. And Nathalie…well, she’s mine, at least for the time being.

And I’ll continue to tell myself I’m okay with that.

“It’s almost nine,” I say, slipping on a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt. From the pile of clothing on top of her suitcases, I grab clothes for her and set them on the edge of the bed. “I bet there’s a buffet of breakfast foods in the kitchen…”

Her head pops up, and strands of hair stick out of her braid. I rub my chest, a foreign tightness settling beneath my diaphragm. Gordie meows softly, and she pulls him against her chest.

“Morning, Gordie,” she coos softly, “Did you sleep like a king?”

He meows again, this time two short sounds as if to say,of course.

“Are there pancakes?” Nathalie asks, placing Gordie on the floor. “I think I can manage to wake up early if there are pancakes.”

“You’re already awake,” I comment, my lip tipping up in a smile. “If my mother’s cooking, then there is everything under the sun.” I hand her the clothing and fight the urge to kiss her forehead. “I’ll be in the kitchen.”

I leave her to get dressed and venture into the kitchen to find Nyla and my mom working side by side to get breakfast ready. Plates of eggs and bacon sit on the table beside a bowl of cut fruit. A serving tray of pastries calls my name, and I snag one while their backs are turned.

“Morning.”

I slide onto a barstool, and when my mom and sister stop cooking, they look past me, searching around.

“Where’s Nathalie?” Nyla asks, peering around me like I’m hiding her behind me. “Is she not eating with us?”

I would say the disappointment on my sister's face is a figment of my imagination, but nope, it’s right there, clear for everyone to see.

“Is my presence not enough?”

“No,” my mom and sister say in unison.

“You finally have a girlfriend who doesn’t suck,” Nyla confesses, not pulling any of her punches. “And we want to hang out with her. I’ve spent the last twenty-eight years with you, that’s plenty of time.”

My mom chuckles, and in any other scenario, I would be annoyed, but Nathalie’s the best, and I also want to hog all of her time and attention. You could say it’s a family trait.

When Nathalie appears from my bedroom, wearingmysweatshirt instead of the one I picked out, I nearly tumble from my barstool. Fuck. That’s not a sight I thought I would ever see, but now I want her to wear it forever and never take it off.

It screamsmine.

Nyla quickly wraps Nathalie into a hug and then ushers her to the barstool beside mine.

“I didn’t know what you liked to eat,” Nyla says, “so we made it all.”

My mom spins around with a smile she never once directed toward Savannah and asks, “Did Deon tell you about the time he ate paint?”

Nathalie chokes with laughter and shakes her head.

“No.” She bites her lip with a soft look aimed in my direction. “He didn’t. Please,tell me everything.”

No. No. No.

This is what I was afraid of. They’re growing close. It will only make the end of this more difficult.

“Do you really—” I start, but every woman in the room shushes me, and I slump into my seat.

It seems I’m too late. They’ve already banded together. I’ll have to make sure they don’t think poorly of her when this ends. I’ll tell them it was me. She wanted more, and I wasn’t ready.

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