Page 54 of A Love Like Christmas Time
I could stay like this for hours; watching the sky light up and the nature outside turn from pink cotton candy to winter wonderland. But Taytay is already growing impatient.
“Meow.”She bops her little paw against my throat.
“Okay, okay,” I mutter, flinging my blanket off to sit up, the cold sending goosebumps all over my skin.
The ground is cold under my feet as I trudge down the stairs, two fluffy stalkers right behind me. While I make my way to the kitchen, the two of them circle the mat I place their food bowls on, very vocal about the fact that they’re apparently starving, getting louder as I scoop food into their respective bowls.
“There you go, you two little cuties,” I coo as I set them down. While they scarf down their food, I refill their water bowl.
With that out of the way, I make my way over to my fridge while yawning loudly, pushing the “on” button of my coffee machine as I walk past it. Thank the heavens for automatic coffee machines.
During my new “finding a new hobby” mission these past months, I contemplated becoming a proper coffee connoisseur. The kind of person who weighs out coffee beans to exactly whatever grams, gets herself a grinder, weighs out the ground beans again before trying to twist the porta filter into a machine.
How do people even do that before having their first coffee? There’s no way I could muster up the patience.
Instead, I have an extremely nice, all-in-one coffee machine that’s taking up a significant portion of my counter. But honestly? That’s a price I’m willing to pay. Especially on mornings like today, where the untouched snow beckons me to run outside and make snow angels. A perfect morning to take slow and romanticize with a proper breakfast.
“Now what am I going to have for breakfast?” I mumble, letting my eyes wander over the contents of my fridge. There are a bunch of delivery boxes, leftovers of fancy ingredients that I got myself to experiment with for one recipe and nowhave no idea what to do with. And basics. Milk, several juices I bought for cocktail recipes, and some eggs.
“Pancakes it is.”
So, after drinking half a glass of orange juice and turning on my milk frother, I get to it. I try to crack an egg one-handed, and mix it up with eyeballed flour, milk, baking soda and a pinch of sugar.
Taytay and Jenna are done with their breakfast and already curled up in their favorite spot on the cat tree. While my coffee runs through the machine, I get myself two spatulas and a plate. I’ve never mastered the art of pancake flipping. Instead, I’m trying to maneuver the pancake onto the plate in one piece and flip the plate over the pan to brown the other side.
My gingerbread syrup is waiting to be added on the counter. I twist the bottle open and pour a hefty amount into my coffee before adding milk and giving it a good little stir.
The first sip of the day is always a little kick starter. I close my eyes and let the spices hit my tongue, and the smell of gingerbread dipped in coffee fill my nostrils.
“Ah, this is great.”
I grin as I set down the mug and transfer my pancake onto a plate. Dusting it with sugar and cinnamon makes it perfect and smell of Christmas. Happily humming Jingle Bells, I bring it over to my couch, sitting down facing my windows with the plate on my thighs.
“Now this is what I’m talking about,” I grin and stab my fork into the pancake to tear off the first piece. “This is perfect. The perfect breakfast on a perfect day in my perfect new life.”
Back in L.A., my breakfast would have been a slice of bread with jam smeared haphazardly onto it before running out of my flat.
But this? Divine. Oh, how I’ve missed a decadent breakfast or getting to wake up slowly and watching the world transition into a new day.
“Here I am!” I step into Caleb’s café with the poise of a showgirl on stage, arms extended over my head. “Wait, why are you closing up? I thought we were going to bake gingerbread.”
“I can’t store them here. We’re baking at my place.”
Caleb is cleaning his coffee machine, facing away from me. When he finally turns around, he does a double take.
“What is that?”
“Oh, you mean this?” I lift my hands and tap the small reindeer antler hair clips, making the little bell on them chime. I’m also wearing my deep-red Miss Claus coat. I’m the living embodiment of Christmas. “Aren’t they adorable? I found them when I went Christmas shopping, and Ineededto have them.”
“They’re certainly…” He gulps as he searches for the right word. “A choice.”
“Thank you, I love them too.” I grin and shake my head until the little bells chime for good measure.
He rounds the counter, his jacket appearing in his hands out of thin air.
“Okay, let’s go.”
His hand lies on the small of my back as he gently guides me outside, sending tingles of electricity throughout my whole body. Nervousness is making me giddy, so I hide my growing smile behind my scarf.
