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“You want me to throw in some toast?” he asks as he opens the bag.
“Yes, please.”
He works next to me, taking the slices of bread and popping them in the toaster.
“Did you sleep okay?” I ask, peeking up at him out of the corner of my eye.
“Sure.” It would almost be convincing if he hadn’t hesitated so long.
“Liar,” I say with a smile.
He looks down at me, a grin threatening the edges of his mouth. “Maybe.”
“You tossed the pillows. Is that a sailor thing? Like they don’t let you have pillows in your bunk and now you can’t sleep with them?”
“Why wouldn’t they let us have pillows?” he asks, eyebrows scrunched.
“I don’t know, that’s why I’m asking. Maybe pillows make the sailors soft. Can’t have a bunch of pussies patrolling our shores.”
Mateo laughs, a wide smile spreading across his face as he pours two cups of coffee. “You’re thinking of the Coast Guard there.”
“The Coast Guard are a bunch of pussies?”
“The Coast Guard patrols U.S. shores,” he laughs as he takes a sip of coffee. “I can’t comment on the pussy thing.”
“That’s funny, most men can’t wait to comment on the pussy.”
Mateo chokes on his coffee and I grin at him sweetly, portioning the eggs out onto three plates.
“Did you always have such a dirty mouth?” he asks as he stifles a smile. He turns to pull the toast out of the toaster.
“Nope, it takes time to cultivate this level of purposeful vulgarity.”
“Purposeful?”
“I made you smile, didn’t I? That’s no small feat.”
“I smile,” he argues.
“No, you don’t. You’re all captain serious until I say something inappropriate and you choke on something. Then you smile.”
Mateo watches me, his head cocked to the side, mulling it over. “I could probably stand to smile more.”
I shake my head and hand him two of the plates. “I like you the way you are, so I’ll just keep saying filthy things to shock you. Besides, it’s more fun if I have to work for it.”
“Deal,” he says, arranging his face in the best poker face I’ve ever seen before taking the plates to the dining table.
Taking the third plate, a napkin, a fork, I head to the guest room. There’s a long pause after I knock, but then I hear Luis’ groggy voice. “Come in.”
He’s sitting up in bed, clearly having just woken up. His hair is a mess, but he looks a lot more himself this morning. He grins at me; the lines scrunching around his eyes when he sees the food.
“You’re an angel, you know that kiddo?”
“I try. How are you feeling?” I ask, handing him the plate.
“Like I slept for a month straight.”
“Not quite, but you conked out pretty hard yesterday. We might want to revisit the dosage on those pain pills unless you want to sleep through the rest of the week.”
