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“I don’t care what you like or don’t like,” she says.
If I had bet a million dollars that she would give that response, I would have won without strain.
“Good morning, butter cup…” Orazio struts in, gray shorts and a white polo shirt, “Morning Evelyn,” he goes to peck her, “And morning to the last person in the room.”
“Morning to the unwanted person in the room,” Rosaline clips and sips from her cup of coffee.
“Just because you are now wearing matching outfits with him doesn't mean you have his heart,” Orazio goes to Rosaline’s plate and picks a brioche.
“Stop picking from my plate,” Rosaline grits.
“What are you gonna do about it?” Orazio shrugs and reaches for her cup of coffee.
“You have a problem,” she stabs her index finger at him.
“You happen to be my problem,” he snaps his fingers for her to hand him her cup of coffee.
“Where did you even come from,” she scoffs.
The same question I ask all the time.
Good luck with getting any answer.
“I should ask you that,” Orazio reaches for my cup of coffee instead, then adds to Evelyn “I refuse to be baptized into the sadistic nature of the cursed couple sitting across from me.”
“We are not a couple,” Rosaline clicks her tongue.
“Why don’t we do this,” Orazio leans over, resting both elbows on the kitchen island, “Why don’t you live your truth and let me live mine?”
What is he even saying? This guy walked straight out of a weed farm, I swear on my life.
“You are not even making any sense,” Rosaline scoffs.
“I’m sending you love and peace, you need it, too bitter for my liking,” Orazio stands straight.
“I'll leave you all to your breakfast,” Evelyn smiles at us as if she is having a swell time with what she is seeing.
“Orazio, your food is over there,” she points to a tray of food in the corner, “let Rose have her breakfast,” she walks out.
“I will,” Orazio nods and picks another brioche from Rosaline’s plate.
She grunts, “Would you stop doing that?”
“Stop telling me to stop, it's just food,” Orazio snatches her plate and moves backward before she can reach for it, “my truth Rosa, find yours and live it.”
“Can you tell your friend to give me back my breakfast,” she turns to me, pouting.
“Orazio, give her back her breakfast,” I start to eat mine. I know he won't listen, and besides, I don’t say it like I want him to. I might be enjoying whatever they are on to a little too much.
“I'm hungry,” she mumbles.
“Aww, don't make that face,” Orazio puckers.
“Benedetto,” she pulls at the sleeve of my t-shirt, “I'm hungry.”
“Here,” I pass my breakfast to her, and she starts to eat it almost immediately, smiling at herself.
“I'm not jealous,” Orazio huffs.
