Page 150 of Mangled Memory
“I’m taking up the habit. I hear it’s good for you. Antioxidants and shit.”
Cian’s face contorts as if he’s trying to hide a smile. “Antioxidants and shit. Go for it.”
“We’ll be back before dinner on Sunday.” I offer to mybrother-in-law. “Maybe we can stop by your place on our way back.”
“I’d love that.” He lifts his water glass, and I offer one in return.
Ayla
Iced tea is gross. Sweet tea isn’t bad, but it takes an awful lot of sweet to make up for the tea part.
I tried, though. I sat on the front porch swing and rocked. It didn’t make the tea any better. Neither did the wide chairs on the front porch. As it turns out, the chairs with a mug of coffee first thing in the morning are damn-near perfection.
Maybe I should just own the fact that I’m a java girl and that anything less is just that… less.
There’s no Georgio in Aspen. There’s a micro version I named Luigi since I swear I hear the Mario Bros theme song when I push its buttons. The good news is I get Luigi, and he gets me. Together we make beautiful caffeine babies. I’m real close to getting a Mario for at home, but my husband might threaten to divorce me with another machine. Maybe not. I can always request a barista instead and then Luigi’s twin, Mario, would be an easy compromise.
It's Sunday morning and I’ve made three perfect coffees in our bungalow. Two for me and one for Christian. He seems to have more discipline and a lower tolerance than I do with caffeine.
This place is perfection. I love our Cherry Hills home, but this is the place to exhale and be. Aspen might be bougie, but here I’m just Ayla and Christian is just Christian, not some business guru or a mogul.
“Hate to say this, Princess.” Christian looks up from his coffee cup. “But I think we need to get on the road early.”
I want to whine. Or beg.
“Your face is like a six-year-old who just accidentally released her balloon.”
“I feel like that.”
“We can come back anytime. Next weekend?”
“Depends on Ci’s surgery. I don’t want to be too far away if he needs help. Or if Ellie needs a walk.”
“Well, it’s not going anywhere, and when you want, we can come stay a while. No tea required.”
Oh, thank God. “Yeah, the tea protest was ill-founded.”
“Ill-founded?”
“It was worth it in principle. But in my mouth, not so much.”
He laughs and I stare. There haven’t been many light moments in the last several months. Most of my time with him has been serious. This Christian is almost cute. If a man that handsome can be calledcute. I bet as a teenager he was a heartthrob.
“Did you ever struggle for a date in high school?”
He eyes me suspiciously. “I dated.”
“You dated? Or you got around?”
“A gentleman never kisses and tells.”
“Yeah. You were a player.” I roll my eyes.
“Wife, are you jealous of dates I had twenty years ago?”
“No, but I’m trying to figure out, if we have a son, how many condoms we’ll have to buy to avoid the pregnancy scares you inevitably wrought on your parents.”
“He could be a ginger.”
