Page 118 of Rock Bottom Girl
I found Marley and Homer deep in conversation in the kitchen. There were grocery bags on the counter, and Homer was eyeing a new bag of dog treats every time he surfaced from wolfing down his breakfast.
“Good morning,” Marley said, beaming at me from across the island.
Well, shit. So that’s how it felt. Knowing you wanted to do something every day for the rest of your life. That’s what I wanted right now. And it was incredibly inconvenient seeing as how the object of my affection had just reiterated her desire to blow this popsicle stand once her obligations here were finished.
“Morning,” I said, dropping the laundry basket on the kitchen table and swooping in for a long, hard kiss. She wanted to leave? Fine. But I wasn’t going to make it easy on her. “What are you doing up so early?”
She laughed and pointed at the clock with a spatula. “It’s 9:30.”
“On a Sunday,” I pointed out. “For teachers, the weekends are little slivers of reprieve.”
“Homer woke me with his cold nose and a very insistent demand to go outside,” she said, returning to the pan on the stove.
My dog was an asshole. But a cute one.
“Usually I can get a couple more hours of sleep after his demands are met,” I told her.
“Well, since I was up and you didn’t have anything edible in the house, Homie and I took a quick ride over to the grocery store, and I got some necessities.”
I felt…cared for. Spoiled. Cherished.
“Really?” I asked, clearing the emotion out of my voice.
“Yeah. Cheesy omelets are almost done. Wanna pour the coffee and get the bacon? I put it in the microwave so it wouldn’t get cold.”
She made me breakfast. Bought me groceries. Took my dog for a car ride.Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I was truly fucking sunk.
And Homer was basically laughing at me with his doggy smirk.
“Sure. Awesome. Yeah,” I said, digging out a pair of mugs and trying not to think how domestic this all was. Forget haunting. Gram had taken control of my mind. I needed an exorcism.
“It’s kind of warm outside and not as unclean as in here. Want to eat on the porch?” Marley asked.
I followed her through the back door, juggling plates and mugs and utensils that she must have washed herself since I’d been using plasticware for weeks now.
We sank onto the wicker couch and dumped our breakfasts on the little coffee table. Fall was in the air, but summer was pushing back, clinging to the late September Sunday. It would be a good day for a leisurely run.
“Think you could go for a few miles today?” I asked Marley.
She forked up a bite of omelet. “Sure. It’ll have to be this afternoon though. Uh, were you serious about meeting my parents?”
“Yeah. Definitely,” I told her. I shoveled a bite of cheesy eggs into my face. “Whoa. What magic did you work here?”
She smiled prettily. “It’s all in cage-free eggs and good cheese,” she confessed. “Anyway, you’re invited to dinner tonight. At my parents’.”
I chewed thoughtfully. Sipped my coffee. “Cool. What kind of hostess gift should I bring?”
“You’re really into this gift thing, aren’t you?” Marley teased.
“I am. Stick around, and you’ll be showered in thoughtful trinkets.”
She grinned, and I decided this was my favorite Sunday morning in recent history. “Why?” she asked.
“Why what?”
“Why do you like giving gifts?”
I bit into a crisp piece of bacon. “Dunno. I like finding something that I know someone will love. You know, put thought into it. Show them I care. I guess.”
