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I’m not sure I’d mind, but I don’t reveal that to him. I walk out of the room instead, putting an extra swing to my hips to lure him out with me. Maybe I can convince him to tidy up the bar while I make us something to eat.
As I gather up some eggs and a few other things to make us a hot meal, I realize that we’re missing a couple of things from the fridge that we’ll need tonight for the bar. I consider sending Savva to the store to grab them, but I don’t want to be alone. I haven’t forgotten that there’s an angry gang leader named Stone who could turn up here at any moment.
Maybe we can go to the store together after we eat. I believe we’ll have enough time.
Savva walks out with the pack of cigarettes he took from the closet last night, pulling one out and winking at me.
“Oh no, don’t think you’re going to smoke that shit first thing in the morning. I have something else for you to do,” I scold, grabbing a rag from the bar and carrying it out to him. “Here, take this and make sure the tables are clean. Kimberly always leaves them a bit sticky.”
He sighs, putting the cigarettes into his back pocket and taking the rag, lazily meandering around the room and wiping tables down while I go back to making breakfast for us. I wonder if his mother ever made him do any chores, or if she did everything herself. With his attitude, there’s no way he wasn’t catered to every second of his childhood.
Well, someone has to teach him how to be an adult, and it might as well be me.
But I don’t torture him for too long with the cleaning before inviting him to a table with two plates of scrambled eggs and sausage. I would throw a fruit in there somewhere to pretend we’re being healthy, but we need to go to the store for those.
“How do you like your coffee?” I ask as I pull out a chair for him.
“Black, but let me get it. I feel like you already do enough around here,” he says, refusing to take his seat.
“Now you want to be a gentleman?” I ask with a laugh.
He looks offended. “When haven’t I been?”
“You want me to list a few instances off to you now, or would you prefer a full written collection in the mail?”
“Very funny,” he replies. “Just let me get the coffee.”
I smirk. “I take it with cream.”
“Of course, you do,” he replies with suggestive eyes.
I sit down, allowing him to play the gentleman as I wait at the table. I must admit, it’s nice to have someone doing things for you, even if it’s just getting a cup of coffee. My mom never did anything for me. Since the age of ten, I was doing my own laundry, and if I didn’t do hers with it, she would throw the biggest fit.
The more I think about it, the more relieved I am to be away from her. I don’t want to cut her off entirely, but sometimes a girl needs to get out there and live her life by her own terms. If it were up to my mom, she would have me living at home for the rest of my life.
I check my phone quickly as Savva pours us two cups of dark roast, but there’s not a single message from my mom. She must really be upset about me taking over Angus’s bar, but it’s starting to worry me that she’s been silent for so long.
If I have time after Savva leaves, I’ll try to call her. I just don’t know what to say but what got us into an argument last time, and that hardly seems constructive.
Savva slips into the seat across from me and gently slides my coffee to me. “You look like you’re thinking about something,” he says.
“With everything going on lately, I’m struggling to see how I could spend any waking momentnotthinking about something,” I reply, taking the coffee and sipping it.
It tastes perfect. How did he get this good at literally everything?
Savva begins shoveling eggs into his mouth as though he only has ten seconds to eat before someone swipes his plate. It makes my stomach hurt just looking at him.
“Damn, slow down,” I say, putting my hand on his wrist. “You’re going to choke.”
“Oh,” he says, seeming to only now notice that he’s inhaling his food like a vacuum.
I suppose he’s not good ateverything, just most things.
“You’re a smart man, but you need to take better care of yourself,” I tell him.
“I live for the day,” he replies as though that’s something to be proud of.
“Nonsense. Nobody can live like that and be happy. You have to think about the future, about how to maximize your life instead of wasting it in a few years doing stupid things,” I explain, cutting into my eggs and showing him how little I’ve put on my fork. “Just take it easy.”
