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But then, remembering how happy I was a moment ago when I woke up with her beside me, I know I made the right choice. Never have I been indecisive or second guessed myself, but with Giselle, it sometimes seems as if I’m not fully in control.
The toast and eggs are done when I hear her come into the kitchen. My heart misses a beat when I see that she has on my thick robe, her red hair a sharp contrast to its whiteness. It feels like the very first day I saw her.
“I thought we agreed on breakfast in bed,” I tease.
She shrugs, smirking. “I got lonely.”
“Great timing, then. Breakfast is ready.”
“You have a lovely home.” She pulls out a chair and settles on it.
“Thanks. Gwen decorated . . .” I trail to a stop and stiffen when I realize what I was about to say.
“She had a good eye,” she remarks into the tense silence.
I nod and serve the eggs to divert attention from the topic.
“Your late wife was very beautiful. I presume it’s her portrait that sits on your bedside table?”
“Er . . . yes. Thanks.”
I hope with everything in me that she will see that I don’t want to talk about Gwen and drop it.
“Hmm. This looks delicious.” She smells the plate of eggs and toast before her and smiles.
Finally, I’m able to release the breath I didn’t know I’d been holding. Knowing she likes her coffee light and sweet, I pour her a cup and add cream and sugar.
“How did you know?” she asks with something akin to surprise.
“That’s how you took it when we had breakfast at the Hamilton.”
“You’re observant.”
“One has to be in my line of work.”
Her brows curve as she reaches for a piece of toast. “What do you do actually? I don’t think we’ve ever gotten around to talking about it.”
I wink at her. “Understandably. We’ve been busy with other things.”
She laughs. “Stop stalling.”
Glad for the change of topic, I tell her about my hedge fund, which it turns out, she doesn’t know much about.
“That’s surprising. I assumed you owned an art gallery or something of the sort.”
I grin. “Everyone thought I would go that way because of my love for the arts. But I enjoy money just as much, so I decided to go the easy route.”
She sips from her cup of coffee. “Speaking of art, did I see a piano in the living room when we came in last night?”
“It’s amazing you were able to notice it. I couldn’t focus on anything other than dragging you to bed.”
Her face reddens, hiding her freckles.
“Yes,” I answer her question. “And before you ask, I play. Do you?”
She nods.
“Want to give it a go?” She nods enthusiastically.
