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It's not only waffles. Constantine set out a fresh bowl of whipped cream, sliced bananas and strawberries, and poured me an enormous glass of apple juice. The smells and sights are amazing, and I feel my tummy rumble.
Constantine pulls out two chairs. "Yes. This is your breakfast. It'll give you enough nutrients to get through the day… and you'll need them, because I have activities planned."
I take hesitant steps toward the table and bite my lower lip. The yummy smells only increase as I step forward, and I nearly faint when I glimpse the adorable design of the waffles.
They're not simply circular waffles with little square marks, like you see in prepackaged waffles at the convenience store. These waffles, these creative waffles, are hearts. Big hearts, brimming with love.
"Constantine." A sniffle tumbles out of me as I stare at my Daddy. "These look amazing."
Constantine slides the syrup toward me, and after walking to my side, pats me on the back. "Sit down, cutie. I can tell you're hungry."
"How?"
I think I do a very remarkable job of concealing my perpetual starvation, thank you very much. I'd like to know how Constantine sees through me.
Constantine lifts his hand and brings it to my body. "Mind if I touch you?"
I shrug. "Go ahead." This nearly draws a laugh out of my lips. How could I resist Constantine's hand on my body? It's not like we weren't cuddling all night.
Constantine dips his palm down to rub my belly. "I hear your tummy rumbling, boy. Your body says it's time for breakfast."
Belly rubs. This man gives belly rubs. I close my eyes and let out a sigh, swooning into Constantine's firm hands. He pats my tummy, and I thrust my arms around his chest, hugging him hard.
Now I know why puppies wag their tails when their owners pet them. This is incredible. Perfect. So sweet. I could receive belly rubs forever.
Dragging my eyes up, I look at Constantine. "That feels amazing." I slide Mr. Green out from under my arm, and hand him to Constantine. "Mr. Green wants to eat with you this morning. It's your reward for making me feel good."
Constantine accepts my stuffed animal. "You're very sweet. But Mr. Green will be sad if you don't feed him waffles this morning."
I chuckle and shake my head. "We went over this last night. Aliens, especially those of the stuffed animal variety, can't eat human food."
"Try. He'll like it."
I shake my head in amusement and get ready to eat. Constantine pushes my chair in, and I thank him as I sit down.
I stare at the yummy breakfast before me and yield to my heart all over again. Jesus. Christ. I inhale deeply as I pick up my fork and knife.
This is so much better than my cheap food at home. This is a real, hearty meal, packed with nutrients.
But before I begin, I check one thing. I lift my t-shirt, and look at my stomach. I can't help but grimace. In the morning sunlight, my body is even smaller than I remember. My ribs are visible, and I grit my teeth when I realize that I'm undernourished.
Constantine picks up a cup of coffee, and takes a sip. "Try the whipped cream, boy. It's delicious." But his voice cuts off when he looks at me.
He clears his throat, and rests two fingers on the table. "Is everything all right, boy?"
I quickly tug my shirt back down over my stomach. "Nothing's wrong," I say. I keep my sentence short and to the point. "I was looking at something."
When I meet Constantine's gaze, it's disapproving. "You look thin, boy."
I'm preparing to cut into my waffles, but Constantine's words catch me off guard.
I stare into his eyes and debate telling him about the full extent of my home life. Last night, he asked me about my apartment, and… I hate to admit it, but I lied. I only told him a few things about Harlem, neglecting to mention the troubling reality.
I figured Constantine would go through the roof if he knew I survived off handouts from local food shelters and frozen food from the dollar store. He's a freaking billionaire with houses in Chelsea and the Hamptons, for crying out loud. Enough people judge me in my life, and I didn't want to trigger his disappointment.
I shrug. "I was looking at my belly. You're right. It's ready for my morning meal."
A troubled look flits across Constantine's eyes, and he lets out a sigh as he sets down his fork. "You're undernourished, boy. I didn't realize how skinny you were until you lifted your shirt."
