Page 63 of Dirty Politics

“I just want to relax with you.”

She nodded.

“Want to watch a movie?” he said, walking toward the living room.

“Sure. What are the options?”

—

The next morning, Livwoke up alone in the bedroom. The sunlight was streaming through the windows; she could hear the sounds of birds outside. She stretched as she sat up, looking around for Will.

He was nowhere to be seen.

She wandered down to the living room with a big fluffy robe tied around her waist. There was a chill in the air. As she poured herself a cup of coffee, she heard Will on the phone outside. He was pacing the porch; his voice was low and strained.

“I don’t give a damn what they are wanting. No.I can’t believe this. Can’t they just make up their minds?”

Liv listened for a moment until Will ended the call. She slipped out on the porch. He was fuming, still pacing back and forth with his phone at his side.

“I thought we were leaving all that behind,” she said, taking the phone from his hand and placing it on the porch swing.

He looked up and groaned. “It never ends.”

“I know. It will still be there on Monday.”

He nodded. “You’re right. Do you want breakfast?”

“Only if I can help you make it.”

“Deal.”

They made their way back into the kitchen. Will whipped together a frittata with sausage, spinach, tomato, and smoked gouda. Liv cleaned and chopped fruit for the side. She was amazed watching how relaxed he was in the kitchen. He moved from one task to the next with ease.

“This is really second nature to you,” she said.

“I started to cook when I was really young out of necessity,” he said. “My first jobs were working in kitchens. I think in a different life I might have become a chef.”

“I’d eat at your restaurant,” Liv said as she set the table.

“Thanks,” he said. “Are you up for a hike this morning? There’s a nice one by the creek.”

“Sounds perfect.”

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