Page 119 of Dating and Other Theories
“We were both pathetic.”
“What are we now?”
Her fingertips found his heartbeat. “Happy.”
“I like the sound of that,” he said, yawning.
She snuggled closer, soaking up the sense of contentment. She wanted to exist here forever in the protective circle of his arms. Listening to the gradual slowing of his breathing as he drifted off to sleep. Counting every beat of his heart.
This was where she belonged. It was everything she’d ever wanted.
It wasn’t a disaster, it was a miracle.
Chapter Thirty-Four
When Esther woke, she was alone. Dust motes danced in the grayish-yellow light stealing in through the blinds. It was morning.
For a fleeting moment, she genuinely believed last night had been a dream. In the disorientation of half-sleep, her brain tried to parse fantasy from reality. Had they really spoken? Had they even gone on a date? Had her imagination concocted all of it to torment her?
She heard a cabinet close in the kitchen and her mind defogged enough to identify the smell of coffee filling her apartment. Coffee and…something else. Whatever it was, it smelled heavenly.
Throwing back the covers, she grabbed an old T-shirt and wandered into the kitchen.
Jonathan stood at the counter in nothing but his glasses and his underwear, whisking something in a bowl. It wasn’t a dream. It was better. For a few seconds, Esther stood silently and watched, taking in the sight of him. Memorizing the moment.
He glanced her way, and a smile stole over his features. “You bought a real coffeemaker.”
She walked over to him, rose up on her toes, and pressed her lips to his mouth. “I did.”
His arm banded around her waist, holding her against him. The smile on his face got wider. “Good morning.” He gave her a soft, lingering kiss. Smiling the whole time.
“Good morning to you too.” Esther couldn’t remember ever smiling this much in her whole life. Her cheeks ached as muscles that had atrophied with disuse came to life.
His smile shifted into a smirk. “It’s not as good as my Chemex, of course.”
“Of course.”
“But it’s pretty good for a beginner.”
“I’m glad it has your seal of approval. I’ll let that beginner comment go unremarked.”
Still smirking, he let go of her and turned back to the bowl. It was full of thick batter. Butter sizzled in a nonstick pan preheating on the stove.
“You made awkward pancakes,” she said, delighted.
Bemused furrows sprouted across his forehead. “Awkward pancakes?”
“That’s what I used to call it when a guy I’d slept with tried to get me to have breakfast with him the next morning.”
Jonathan’s eyebrows lifted. “Is that so?”
“Yeah, but these aren’t authentic awkward pancakes because I actually want to be here, eating your pancakes.”
His mouth quirked. “Is that a euphemism?”
“No, but it definitely should be. Oh, wait!” she said, suddenly remembering the hat she’d knit him weeks ago. “I have something for you.”
She dashed back into the bedroom and dug through her dresser. When she came back into the kitchen, Jonathan had his head stuck in her refrigerator. “Do you have syrup?”
