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“C’mere,” he murmured when I’d slowed down to a lazy glide.
He added a slight tug on my hips that didn’t disconnect us, but I knew what he wanted.
I rested on his chest, tucking my face in his neck.
He turned his head and kissed my forehead.
“’Mornin’, babe,” he whispered.
I smiled.
* * *
Consideringour first-thing activities ate into my morning time, I forewent my scan of theRepublicand pulled my makeup out to the kitchen bar to put it on while Cap cooked me breakfast.
I was nearing the finishing line and about to stroke on my mascara when Cap slid a stack of thick sliced brioche French toast, perfectly browned, toward me. It was covered and sitting in a pool of maple syrup and topped with an oozing pat of butter and fresh raspberries, blackberries and blueberries.
Yesterday (or the day before, or the day before that, you get the picture) I had no brioche (or fresh berries) in my house, so I looked at him quizzically.
“I hit the grocery store before I hit your pad last night,” he explained.
“Sure of yourself?” I teased, pushing aside my makeup to reach for the plate.
He shrugged. “You’re you, and I’m me.”
We weresothat.
I shot him a smile and forked in.
He leaned into his forearms on the bar across from me.
I took in his position and the focus he had on my face.
“Oh boy,” I said around my first bite of his ludicrously delicious French toast.
“A couple of things our fuckfest didn’t allow us to get into last night,” he began.
I was me and he was him, and what we had together was a definite thing we were both in deep on, so instead of bracing for the worst, I circled my fork as an invitation for him to go on.
“A while ago, Luke taught me something important.”
I speared a berry.
“What’s that?” I asked before I put it in my mouth.
“When you get pissed and you’re talking with someone you care about, and you don’t wanna say anything you can’t take back, or she’s gonna say something she can’t walk back, or she’s said something that triggers you, you get the fuck outta there and take the time you need to cool down and clear your head.”
“Ah,” I murmured, thinking this Luke was wise, delighted he’d taught this lesson to Cap and thrilled to have an explanation of why he’d walked away the day before like he had, mostly so I’d know in the future what was going down if he did it again.
Not to mention, making note that Luna had been correct. She’d surmised this in our conversation about Cap leaving yesterday morning.
“Taking my bag was a mistake,” Cap went on. “It was an asshole thing to do. I was pissed that you knew I was already pissed, and you made me wait until you got yourself a cup of coffee. It was a strike back, immature and fucked up. I shouldn’t have done it. It made you worry where my head was at. And I was pissed, but I was nowhere near pissed enough to end us.”
God, I loved it that he laid it out like that.
“Me making coffee wasn’t real mature either, Cap. I was being a bitch.”
“Let’s try not to do that again,” he suggested.
