Page 10 of Brant
Skipping the shower, he dragged on a pair of old, thick sweats and a thick ribbed sweater. Strolling into the bathroom, he brushed his teeth and finger-combed his hair.
He was bounding down the stairs when the enticing aroma of coffee had him pausing and then increasing the pace, the scent drawing him in. From his vantage point, he could see her at the counter. He had an unrestricted view of her, and what hesaw had him pausing again. Her hair, the myriad of twists or whatever the name was, was secured on top of her head. That morning she was wearing tan-colored leggings with a poppy-red sweater hugging her generous curves. Taking a deep breath and concentrating on the aroma filling his nostrils, he descended the rest of the steps.
She had something in her ear and did not notice him until she happened to look up from the onions she was chopping.
The knife clattered to the marble counter as she stood there staring at him for a few seconds.
“I decided to make breakfast.” She rushed on before he could say anything. “I hope you don’t mind. And I don’t even know if you eat breakfast.” She was talking too fast but could not seem to stop.
“This happens to be your home too.” Easing himself onto the stool, he accepted the coffee she poured for him and gratefully took a fortifying sip. “I usually don’t eat breakfast, but that... what’s that you’re making?”
“Spanish omelet. It has a little zing to it because I happen to like spice. Toast?”
“Wheat. Thanks.” He sat back to watch as she efficiently sliced and diced. “You cook.”
She glanced up from the peppers she was slicing, smiling. “How else was I supposed to eat?” Dumping everything into the saucepan, she turned back to pick up her cup. “Mama was never one for the kitchen, so everything was left up to me. So...” She smiled breezily, not wanting to spoil the moment with tales of her childhood. “What’s on the agenda for today?”
“I was planning on getting a run in.” He glanced out the large bay window with a grimace. “But I see that it’s raining. So, change of plans. We could take in a movie?”
“At the theater?”
“I happen to have one right here.” He sent her an engaging smile that had her heart flipping over. “Complete with popcorn and other delights.”
“Coke? Doctor Pepper?”
“Of course.”
“Sounds like a date. I mean, it sounds good.”
He hid a smile at how flustered she appeared and watched as she turned to the stove to rescue the eggs.
“Do you want to eat here?”
“Here is fine.”
She slid him a plate and took out the toast as soon as it popped. They ate in companionable silence as they watched the rain pelting the windowpane.
“You don’t have a tree.”
“Pardon?” He glanced over at her.
“Christmas tree, you don’t have one up.”
“Oh.” He glanced around as if expecting to see one pop out of thin air. “Usually, I’m not around at this time of the year, and if I am, I go over to my mother’s. I expect she’ll want us over for supper.”
“Oh.” She busied herself with her meal and avoided his eyes.
“Problems?”
She shrugged. “I don’t think she likes me.”
“She wasn’t too keen on the idea of us getting married, but I assured her it was the right thing to do.”
She gave him a level stare. “Right for whom?”
He seemed taken aback at the question and took a moment to align his thoughts. “For both of us.”
“More so for me.” She picked at her toast. “I needed this more than you do.”
