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His face lights up as he nods.
I grab a slice of bread and my spoon. Plopping a big glob of jelly on it, I smear it around, then hand it to him. He heads to the kitchen table and takes a bite while I screw the lid on the jelly and put it away in the fridge.
“I hate when you call me Danny.” His voice is quiet as he takes another bite.
I sit down beside him, tracing my fingers on the scratches of our old, wooden table. “I hate when you call me Ken Doll.” It’s what we called each other when we were little. When we couldn’t make the ‘br’ sound. But, we’re big now.
He smiles a little and takes another bite.
I smile, too.
“And I hate cold bread for breakfast.”
“It has jelly on it.”
“I know.” He shoves the last bit of it in his mouth, talking while he chews. “When do you think we’ll find a new mommy?”
“I don’t know.” I trace the scratches again. Miss Willis, our kindergarten teacher, definitely was not our new mommy. Neither were Miss Crags, our cranky, first grade teacher, or Mrs. Omars.
“How do you think we’ll know when we find her?”
I pause for a second and think really hard. “I think she’ll feel like summer. Like when you walk outside on the last day of school and the warm sun hits your face.”
“Or when we go to the beach?” He scoots up to the edge of his seat, a huge smile filling his face.
“Exactly, she’ll feel like that.”
Easing my laptop shut, I glance over at the dining room. After taking turns with Asra until late in the night, I figure she deserves to sleep in. With all the calories I burned, I also decided to skip my morning run.
I still woke up with Brendan, though. Finishing my second espresso, I take my mug to the sink, rinse it, then place it in the dishwasher. Yesterday, I sent my preliminary concepts to my newest client for the pedestrian bridge in downtown Seattle. Their board unanimously approved them early this morning, so I sent off my detailed report from all my research to my engineer this morning. I also requested blueprints for the surrounding blocks the bridge will cover and scheduled a survey. Now, it’s a waiting game until I hear from everyone on exact measurements and specifications. No sense in drafting it all out once only to redo all my work because I need a different type of bolt or thicker steel to ensure it’s sound or I need it to move a couple inches over to accommodate sewer drains.
Grabbing a rag and a bucket from under the sink, I fill it up with soapy water, then head to my bedroom. Brendan and I cleaned up everything we could early this morning. I’d like to sweep, but I don’t want to wake our sleeping beauty. Ringing my rag out, I start washing the walls. Luckily, I’m just wiping any dust off so it goes fast.
By the time I finish with my room and the living room, I notice Asra leaning against the doorframe to the kitchen. My heart speeds up. Not making any attempt to hide it, I adjust myself. Damn, that thoroughly sexed-up hair, pouty lips, and bare legs do something to me. Not to mention the long, navy shirt she’s wearing. It’s another one of my brother’s, but my dick still does a dance in my jeans knowing there’s nothing underneath it.
“Good morning.” Smiling, I stroll up to her.
She glances out one of the windows. The sun already sits high in the sky, peering out between large, fluffy, white clouds. “Don’t you mean afternoon?”
“Nope,” I place a quick kiss on her nose, then another on her lips, “it’s only about ten thirty. Still qualifies as morning. Are you hungry?”
“Um . . .” she glances back at the kitchen.
“Brendan already polished off all the leftovers from yesterday before he left for work. But,” I wrap my arms around her waist, “I was thinking of taking you out for breakfast.” There’s no way I’m attempting to make her breakfast again. One disaster was enough. I don’t want to scare her away.
She fidgets with the hem of her shirt. “I, um . . . I don’t know where my dress is.” Her voice is so soft, it barely reaches me.
“It’s at the dry cleaners. Brendan took it there yesterday. I was going to wash it, but the label said dry clean only, so I had him drop it off on his way to work.” I’m rambling. I know I am. But there’s something about her shy, almost distant demeanor today that feels nervous. If she’s nervous, then I’m nervous. “We can pick it up after breakfast.”
“Lunch?”
“How about brunch?” I smirk. I’m sure there are quite a few places still serving breakfast.
She glances down at her shirt again, then back out the window.
Realization hits me. I’m just fine with her running around all day in just Brendan’s shirt, but maybe not in public. Plus, the sun’s already shining high and bright. “Come with me.” I place another kiss on her forehead, then offer her my hand. Guiding her to the dining room, I dig a baseball cap and sunglasses out of the top of one of my boxes and place them on her.
They’re too big, like a toddler playing dress up in her daddy’s closet, but absolutely adorable. “There.” I tilt the hat back a little so she can hopefully see better. “Go home, change and get around, and I’ll pick you up in, say twenty minutes?”
