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I continue to stare until the knock comes again.
“Just a minute,” I call with false cheeriness before whisper-hissing in his direction. “Griffin.”
He shifts slightly, but doesn’t wake. It would be easier to smack him in the face with a pillow, but I try to remain polite and move closer to him.“Griffin.”
He shifts again and mumbles something, but his eyes are still closed. Ugh.
I hop off the bed and kneel down beside him, placing my hands on his shoulders. “Griffin, wake up.”
That does it. Except it’s not a slow blinking realization, no, Griffin flings his body upright in a sudden motion, knocking me backwards. His reflexes to reach out and grab me are just as quick and a moment later, I’m securely in his lap.
He holds me there while the heel of his hand presses into his eye. “What’s going on?”
“My mom’s at the door,” I whisper urgently.
“Your eggs are getting cold,” my mom calls from the hallway. Our gazes move to the door, then back to each other.
Instead of dumping me off his lap so we can both scramble into the bed, Griffin wraps his arm around my back and lifts me up. A moment later we’re under the covers, the tops of Griffin’s muscular thighs pressing against the back of my legs.
“Come in,” I call.
My mom, who appears to have been a millisecond away from barging in, pushes open the door carrying a breakfast tray.
“Good morning!” She’s a beaming ray of sunshine as she carries the tray over and places it above my lap. “It’s a few days late but I figured since you’re here now, I’d bring you your birthday breakfast in bed.”
“Gee, thanks, Mom.” For our family, breakfast in bed on your birthday is a long-standing tradition. I’m thirty now, so while it would be easy to poo-poo this yearly ritual, I know it’s important to her.
“It’s a family tradition to get breakfast in bed on your birthday,” she explains to Griffin. “Griffin, when is your birthday?”
“September twenty-second,” he answers.
“A Virgo.” She smiles at me. “That’s a nice pairing for you. You’re both Earth signs. Very compatible, especially sexually.” My mom is into astrology and will drop little tidbits like this into everyday conversation.
“Mom.” I shift, trying not to look as uncomfortable as I feel talking to my mom while pressed against Griffin’s naked chest.
“What?” She looks innocent as a lamb. “We’re all adults here. I’m sure you two have already discovered this.”
I want to dive under the blankets and suffocate so I don’t have to be a part of this conversation anymore. Beside me, Griffin is quiet. He must realize there’s really nothing to add to this highly inappropriate conversation.
“I didn’t forget about you, Griffin. There’s an extra plate of eggs and bacon. I’m sure Emma will share her donut with you.”
“Thank you, Mrs.—” Griffin starts.
“Call me Jolyn.”
“Thank you, Jolyn.”
My eyes lock on the glazed donut with pink sprinkles. Ha! There’s no way I’m sharing with him. Husband or not, our current friend status doesn’t even earn him a lick. Maybe I’m being petty, but the sting of rejection from his words last night is still fresh in my mind.
“Okay, we’re going to eat now.” I move to pick up a fork.
“Let me get a real quick picture.” She stands to move toward the foot of the bed.
“We’re in our pajamas.” Griffin is only in his underwear. I try to not think about it.
She waves me off. “That’s part of the tradition. Smile.”
She takes the requisite picture. I can’t wait to look back on that gem. Hair a mess, face covered with pillow creases and my shirtless fake husband by my side. Ahh, welcome to my thirties.
