Page 46 of House of Scarlett
Breakfast sandwich fried egg and turkey bacon
Pancakes – Waffles – Toast – English muffin
Yogurt
The cook is also happy to make a combination of any of the above items as long as he doesn’t have to mix yogurt with eggs and bacon. Because that would be nasty.
Never in my life have I seen something so unbelievably touching. It’s all written in that same dark scrawl of the note he sent me, and I already know that I’m keeping this menu forever. I might even frame it, if I can get away with it.
“You are ... wow. Just ... wow.” I don’t know what else to say. I’m unbelievably overwhelmed at the time and care he’s taking with me.
At the hospital, Gabriel told me he’d show me he meant what he said, andoh my word,I had no idea what that entailed.
“I can get bagels too, but I’ll have to leave. Really, I can get you whatever you want from wherever you want. Just say the word.” His eyes won’t quite meet mine, and I can’t help but wonder if he’s embarrassed.
“No, no. This is amazing. I’d love some scrambled eggs, toast, and yogurt. I should be able to handle that, right?”
“I read the doctor’s instructions, and they said you can go back to eating normally whenever it feels right. Google said try bland foods first, just in case. Anyway, I think all of those count.”
A blanket of warmth wraps around me. “You googled it for me?”
Gabriel nods. “I wasn’t going to take the chance of fucking you up after they just got you fixed. I may not be a doctor, but I know how to take care of someone.”
Bump.His name pops into my head immediately, and I can imagine Gabriel taking care of the younger man after he got shot in the head.Jesus.The last thing I want is for him to get dragged back down memory lane by taking care of me, but he doesn’t seem upset. Just ... slightly embarrassed about the menu.
“Thank you, Gabriel. This means a lot to me.”
“Whatever you need, ladybug. I’m your guy. Be back in a few.”
Twenty-Seven
Legend
The toast popsout of the toaster just as I slide the eggs on the plate.Good timing.There’s a carton of strawberry yogurt on the counter, and I’ve been debating whether to put it in one of those fancy miniature bowls she has.
Seriously? You want to dirty another dish just to make the tray look good?
Yeah. Yeah, I do. Because this is Scarlett we’re talking about. Although I’m pretty fucking sure she won’t say one word about eating directly from the carton, I want to impress her, even if I’m being ridiculous.
I grab the toast and cut it diagonally.Shit, I didn’t ask her what she wanted on it.
So I cut a chunk of butter off the end of a stick in the fridge and put it on a saucer next to twin mountains of raspberry jam and orange marmalade, also from her fridge. The yogurt goes into a little porcelain cup with handles on both sides. I’m not entirely sure what it’s for, but that could be said of damn near half the dishes in her cupboards. They’re old and delicate, and they fit her perfectly.
I eye the serving bowls, because they’re the only man-sized dishes in the whole place. I can’t help but feel gratified about that.Scarlett doesn’t usually have men in her apartment.Fine by me.
I pick up the tray but put it right back down.Fuck, I need silverware, a napkin, and salt and pepper. The first two are easy, even though the napkin is cloth and pink. I guess I can be okay with the bright, cheery look it gives the tray.
Then I turn to the wall of salt and pepper shakers. And, yes, I do meanwall.
Christ.
I didn’t notice them before when I was checking out her space. I thought it was just a wall of knickknacks, but the holes in the top of all of them help with the identification.
Scanning the shelves they’re displayed on—like a shallow set of bookshelves—I try to find the most masculine-looking ones possible. I don’t give a shit that the napkin on the tray is pink. I am not serving her breakfast with kitten salt and pepper shakers.Fuck no. I have limits, because I have a dick and balls.
Too many fucking choices. She’s got snowflakes and windmills and baby birds.
Hurry up, the eggs will get cold.I drop to the next shelf.I will not choose two giraffes that look like they’re hugging at the neck. But I don’t hate them either. That one giraffe has game.
