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My panties.
I shot up the second the smell of bacon hit my nostrils.
Who the hell was cooking bacon?
Last night's turn of events starts to play across my brain like a bad picture show. I cried. And puked. In front of Greyson.
Glancing down at the dress I still slept in, I tug it off, grabbing the hoodie laying at the foot of my bed. I slide myself into some leggings and dress my feet in my favorite fuzzy socks. I brush my teeth, splash some water on my face and tie my hair up.
With light steps I ease down the staircase, checking on Nelson as I pass his cage at the foot of the stairs.
Greyson’s back is to me. The short sleeve tee he wore clinging to every muscle that rippled along his back. His jeans hung low on his hips and his hair was messy. He flipped a few pieces of bacon as he sipped a cup of coffee. Like this was his normal morning routine. All domestic and shit.
All my daydreams of what a life with Greyson would look like actually looked a lot like this. Sadly, I’ll never know, and I’ve come to terms with it. Three days ago, I would have said I knew what my life was going to look like for the most part. But it’s amazing how quickly things can change. How words and situations can shine light on things we couldn’t see. Or we choose not to see.
I move the bar stool and the sound of the legs scraping against the hardwood steals his attention.
“Hey,” he breathes out as he faces me.
Hey. I sat down, tugging the sleeves of the hoodie.
His eyes move from my face to the hoodie, then back again. I knew it was his. The one he gave me just two nights ago. It made me feel safe. Just the scent alone made it seem like I was wrapped in his arms, and though I had only been wrapped in them a time or two, I had never felt more seen or validated in my life. I guess I just needed that right now.
He sat down his cup, before grabbing a bottle of medicine from the cabinet, popping out two pills. He places the pills and a bottle of water in front of me.
“You already gave me your voice last night, Rosie. Don’t get shy on me now.”
I roll my eyes, then twist the top, and swallow the pills.
“You stayed?” The question came out before I could stop it.
He pauses, then fishes out the bacon with a spatula, placing it next to a pile of eggs he had already made. “You needed me.” He shrugs.
I roll my lips together. “I was fine.”
“Tell that to your lamp.” He chuckles.
I turn on my stool to survey the damage.
“I already cleaned it up.” A plate drops down in front of me. “Eat.”
“Still bossy, pretty boy?” I quip.
I bite my tongue, inflicting punishment on myself for letting the nickname slip. It was just the smell of this food, and I was famished. That was all. My body wasn’t fully functioning yet. My brain not fully awake.
He didn’t comment on it, which I was thankful for, but he veers the conversation to something even less appealing.
“So, you really going to marry him?” He asks, tossing a spatula in the sink.
“Are you going to marry Ana Leslie?” I lift a brow before stuffing a piece of bacon in my mouth.
“Hell no,” he scoffs.
“Hmmp.” I chew. “Oh right, I forgot, you don’t really do the whole serious thing. I mean, you seem to change women about as often as you change your underwear.”
He leans down, pressing his forearms to my counter. The look in his eye unsettles me. It makes goose bumps coat my flesh when he smirks.
“Rosie, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were keeping tabs on me.”
