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He falls asleep with one of his old toy fish in his hand.
Chapter 11
Olivia
By the time I wake up, it’s late, all things considered. I’m usually up at six, so seeing the clock read 9 a.m. is a pleasant surprise.
I also know for a fact that a lot of it had to do with me staring at my ceiling for about an hour before I fell asleep. The aquarium had been amazing, and shutting my brain off to finally catch some Z’s was damn near impossible.
As I stretch, feeling the ache in my feet after how much walking we did, I step out of bed and go to my bathroom. The small space connected to the guest room I’ve taken over is overly crowded with all my stuff, and I shove some of my hair supplies under the sink.
Opening the cupboard, I see the open box of Plan B in the trash can.
My stomach pulls slightly, and I make a mental note to be sure I’m the one taking out the garbage. I put some tissues over it, but if I’m honest with myself, I’m just glad I remembered to purchase some last night on my way home.
I don’t know if I took it soon enough, though. Guess I’ll have to wait and see.
I shake the thought from my head. Worrying isn’t going to do me any good. Instead, I’m taking this well-deserved day off to pamper myself, and I’ve promised Dad I’ll have dinner with him.
First on the agenda today is a shower, and when I start it up, the hot water feels so good, I’m tempted to stay in there for far too long.
Stepping out into the much cooler bathroom, I grab my mousse from under the sink and run the pomegranate-scented wonder through my wet curls. I run the diffuser through them to get rid of most of the water and then let them finish air drying.
As I go about my typical routine, I can’t help but wonder what Noah’s habits are in the morning. What products does he use in the shower? Does he wash off quick and fast, or does he enjoy the time to himself?
Then my mind goes to decidedly wicked places, and I’m wondering if he masturbates in there. And if so, what or who does he think about? God, I’m in so deep.
But it’s too late. I’m already remembering all the delicious things we’ve done, and I find myself taking matters into my own hands in the steamy bathroom.
I imagine him bending me over the sink, his fingers where mine are, and taking everything he wants.
The orgasm is quick and over too fast. It’s nothing compared to the things Noah can do to my body, and I find myself even more hungry for what he delivers.
Pulling myself together, I get dressed and go downstairs for breakfast. Dad is at work and leaves a note saying he can’t wait for our dinner together.
Dinner prep is, of course, on me, as the man can cook about as good as Noah, and I head to the market to pick up supplies for homemade pasta carbonara. His favorite.
It’s sunny, with not a cloud in sight, and walking through the farmer’s market for fresh tomatoes and herbs is so relaxing. It’s almost like being back in the countryside in Ireland, and my heart swells as brightly as the sun shines.
I search Google for an Italian delicatessen and grocer for the best noodles and remaining ingredients, finding one not too far from the market. I pay the delightful cashier, who offers several tips on how to ensure the noodles come out right, and then I head toward home.
An iced coffee is a must on a day like today, and I stop inside the local coffee joint right near my dad’s home. It’s small and as “hipster-chic” as you can get, and I adore it.
The barista today is Sam, and she nods at me with a smile.
“Hey, this isn’t your usual time. Still want the regular?”
I grin right back, so happy to have found this place and add a little extra to my typical order.
“Yes, please. Can I also snag one of those chocolate twists?”
“Sure thing, girl.”
Sam whips up my order in no time and calls my name for the order.
“One large cinnamon hazelnut iced cold brew and a chocolate twist. I heated that up for you, too.”
I take the drink and drop a dollar in the tip jar.
