Petty Cash by Vargas Kimberly

Author:Vargas, Kimberly [Vargas, Kimberly]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2013-09-20T04:00:00+00:00

Stock Family

_______

We slept with the bedroom window open, and I can hear the palm trees blowing outside. The rustling sound paired with the calm whiteness of the room present a wonderful wake up call. Foster is lying beside me, holding me tight in his sleep. I marvel at the man in my bed and how much I enjoyed last night. He’s had a better effect on my body than compression gear. I feel completely peaceful, looking at him and the way his dark hair falls across his forehead. The crease he used to have there appears to have faded, and he looks much younger in his sleep. A car alarm goes off somewhere nearby, waking him up.

“Good morning,” he breathes and kisses me on the cheek.

“Good morning,” I reply. We lie like that for a long time, staring at each other in mutual adoration. We just kind of bask in it, along with the sunshine and the bay breezes and the sounds of cars passing by on South Howard Avenue.

“I loved my birthday.”

“I’m glad. How did you sleep?”

“Very well. I was up earlier this morning actually, but took a little catnap just now.”

“You were? What time is it?”

“Eight-thirty.”

“How long were you been up?”

“From five to eight or so.”

“What have you been doing?” My eyes follow his to the kitchen. There is a huge bouquet of pink tulips on the kitchen table. “Oh, wow. Where did you get those? They’re beautiful. Thank you.”

“I also picked up a few groceries.”

“Do I smell food?”

“Yes. I made a breakfast egg frittata, and it’s staying warm in the oven at about 175 degrees.” He opens the oven with a flourish, revealing what looks like a very fancy quiche.

“You just made that? Here?”

“Your kitchen is very poorly stocked, by the way. I have a mind to take you to Sur La Table and teach you a few things about how to properly set up to entertain.” He takes the food out of the oven and sets it on the counter, using one of Lydia’s sweatshirts as a hot pad. “Are you hungry?”

“This is really nice of you, but I just don’t eat this kind of thing.”

“Well, maybe not before, but you will now,” he assures me. “Go ahead and sit down.”

“Are you really going to order me around in my own apartment?”

“I might,” he answers. We both take a seat, and he pours me a glass of what looks like freshly squeezed orange juice.

“From the farmer’s market?” I ask.

He nods, and his eyes appear dreamy and peaceful. “Hope you like it.” He is waiting for me to eat something. I’m annoyed at how much he is derailing my diet and self-discipline, but last night was spectacular and I don’t want to taint any of the magic. I manage to eat a couple of ounces of the breakfast frittata. It’s delicious, but imagining the cream and piecrust clogging my arteries is a bit stressful.

“Thank you,” I tell him.

“No, Beck. Thank you.” He leans over and kisses me on the cheek.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.