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Today, I won’t be going to the office, so I’m bringing the work home. Any minute now, Carissa will be ringing my doorbell.
Although her main purpose here will be to work, I’m hoping that isn’t all we do. I want to be around her and just enjoy her presence in solitude, even if I just have to watch her work.
After slipping into a pair of matching shorts and buttoning my shirt with ease, I stroll downstairs to the kitchen to make breakfast.
Carissa and I have been in a good place recently, and I would like to keep it that way. She’s been very warm and receptive toward me, though she still maintains her boundaries.
That’s one thing I admire about her. The woman looks soft on the outside, but on the inside, she is as solid as solid can be.
I’m surprised at how much I tread carefully when dealing with her. That’s something I’ve never done before, and yet it’s easy with her, as if I’ve had years of practice.
The doorbell goes off, and I glance at my watch. 9:29 am.
Right on time.
I try not to hurry to the door, so I let it go off a second and third time.
She has seen so much of my vulnerability, it would be madness to make it so obvious that I stayed up all night just because I knew she was coming over today.
As I hold the door open, her warm smile is the first thing I see before taking in all of her appearance.
Her outfit consists of a well-fitted pair of dark jeans paired with a crisp, white button-down blouse that has a relaxed, slightly oversized fit, which adds a touch of nonchalance to her appearance.
Her hair, styled in a loose messy bun, highlights her features, allowing me a good view of her elongated neck and cheekbones.
It’s obvious she put thought into her outfit, which seems to compliment her personality, making her even more captivating in my eyes.
“Are you going to let me in?” She laughs nervously, moving her tablet from one hand to the other.
“Please forgive my manners.” I hold the door wide open and step aside to let her in.
“I smell bacon and eggs,” she says, dumping her shoulder bag and tablet on the sofa.
I smile. “Yes, I was just rounding up breakfast before you showed up.”
She returns my smile and hurries to the kitchen.
“I never knew you could cook.”
“I try.”
As I confidently move around the spacious, well-appointed kitchen, Carissa’s eyes follow me, sparkling with a glint of admiration.
I select the finest whole-grain bread from a sleek, stainless-steel toaster, and insert the slices.
The soft hum of the toaster fills the room as I await the perfect level of toasting, a skill I like to believe I have mastered.
“I moved all of your meetings for today to tomorrow, so you might have a busy day tomorrow,” Carissa says, her eyes now fixed on her phone as she scrolls through.
I’m a bit disappointed because I liked it better when she was looking at me.
I retrieve the golden-brown toast from the toaster, placing them on a pristine white plate. “We have all day to discuss work, Carissa. This is not the time.”
She immediately puts her phone face down on the kitchen island and takes a seat on one of the high stools.
I spread a thin layer of artisanal strawberry jam and add a piece of bacon and some scrambled eggs to the plate.
Turning to her with a warm smile, I present the plate.
