Page 27 of Wants and Needs
“That might be,” he mutters as he turns on the stove and puts a small pan on top of the flame. “But it’s not nutritious enough for such a long workday.”
I consider trying to convince him to go back to sleep, sincehe also has a long workday ahead of him—getting the brownstone up to his standard will take more than a few days—but instead I focus back on my filling cup, and show my manners. “Thank you.”
“Of course,” he says breezily with his head now stuck in the refrigerator.
After I take my first sip, I remember CJ’s text from last night.
“Put something together for yourself as well. Since I’m going to take the time to have breakfast there are some things I’d like to discuss with you.”
“All right,” he says absentmindedly, but I know he’s intrigued. Maybe even curious.
The thought has me giddy as I walk up two flights of stairs back to my bedroom and turn on the shower to complete step two of my wake-up routine.
It only takes me fifteen minutes to get ready, but you’d think I was gone for hours with how different the kitchen looks when I walk back down.
The early morning light is starting to be visible through the patio doors off the kitchen, and the smell of toast, eggs, and grilled sausages fills the room in the most perfect way.
It’s home.
In a way the house in Oxfordshire was home too, and that almost makes me stumble over my steps, the emotional hit is that strong.
“Your second cup of coffee is ready, Carter,” Milton tells me mildly, then grabs two full plates and carries them over to the oval dark-wood table that’s surrounded by a cozy bench on two sides and chairs on the other two.
I dig right in and Milton follows my lead. It’s only when I’m done with my second big bite that I feel ready for this conversation—though I have to give credit to Milton for not pressing me to get on with it.
“CJ texted me last night,” I start, and though I know I have his full attention, Milton barely looks up at me, he only hums. “He told me a few things he wanted to make sure I told you.”
“Should I get his suite ready?” Milton asks. Now he’s straightened and looking more alert.
We call the two rooms on the fourth floor the suites because they’re the biggest rooms of the brownstone, and though he objected, I remained firm with CJ that I would not be using any of them. The guest bedroom I chose on the second floor is perfect for my needs, it even has a walk-in closet and en-suite bathroom that would look perfect in any five-star hotel.
“No.” I shake my head once. “He’s more than busy with his surgery residency, so I doubt he’ll be making a trip here anytime soon.” Though he is having second thoughts about the whole thing. He told me all about it when we managed to catch a moment with just him, Adam, and me. But Milton doesn’t have to worry over that. “CJ’s mother had the brownstone redone, redesigned, and remodeled every five years or so as far as he’s told me. He’s well aware that it’s up to par with modern necessities, but he wants your input on any potential changes that might be needed that he or I might not have thought of.”
Milton only stares at me for a long moment, and then he goes back to eating. I give him the time and space to think about it, because I know that’s the way he works, and go back to my own perfect breakfast.
He finishes before me and then just stares out the windows into the joke of a garden, so when I’m done, I take everything back to the kitchen, and knowing I’m risking his disapproval, I rinse the plates and put everything in the dishwasher.
“I’ll give it some thought, and I might need to ask CJ a few questions before I offer any suggestions,” he tells me when I walk back to him.
I nod. I knew he’d say something like that.
“I’ll make sure you have his phone number and let him know to expect a call or message from you.”
“Thank you, Carter,” he says, back to staring out the window.
“I need to leave for work now, but I’ll be back tonight.”
“Maybe you should invite some of your friends for supper tonight,” he says casually.
Way too casually.
“Why do you say that?” I ask as I walk to the front door where I can grab my keys and wallet.
“I thought I’d see more of them once we were here, but you’re as alone as you were in Oxfordshire.”
“I saw Rupert a few times,” I mumble, focusing intently on putting on my shoes. It’s not like I haven’t been doing it for more than twenty-five years.
“I’ll have dinner for four waiting,” he calls out as I go to open the door.
