Page 95 of You & Me: Part One

I shuffle down the hall towards the kitchen to find a sight that I could get used to waking up to. Before me is a barefoot, Jonathan, still in his sleep shorts and t-shirt from the night before with slightly messed hair, a sexy as hell five o’clock shadow and a cup of coffee in his hand that he’s holding out to me.

“Morning, Sunshine. Coffee?”

“Why are you up so early? Are you one of those crazy morning people?” I ask as I greedily take the cup from his hands and bring it to my lips. So good.

“Nope, I’m a night-shifter remember?”

“Then why in the world are you up with coffee and a smile? You seem like one of those crazy, happy the moment I get up morning people.”

“You said you were getting up at 5:45 so I made sure I was up before you to get the coffee going.”

“Some vacation this is for you.”

“I don’t mind at all. Besides I want to drive you in this morning.”

“What do you mean?”

Does he think I need a chauffeur now too?

“Well, I figured I would go with you to drop off Ireland at the school so you could introduce me, and they could add me to the list of people that are able to pick her up. That way if you have things you need to do and need her to be picked up, I can help. Now, what do you normally eat for breakfast? I know you didn’t really do breakfast in the past but that could have changed. What’ll it be? I can get it going while you jump in the shower.” He says this almost as if he’s excited at the prospect of making me breakfast.

“Jonathan, you don’t have to become my manny. It’s very kind of you, but you don’t have to do all of this. You don’t have to make coffee, cook, do pre-school pick up . . .” as I am speaking I see the folded sheets on the table from last night’s wake up call. “ . . . And apparently do laundry too. Really, you are making me feel horrible.”

“I don’t want you to feel horrible. Especially when it’s making me feel so good to be able to help you and take a tiny bit off your plate. I’ll feel useless if you don’t let me help, and if I feel useless I’ll get bored and when I get bored, I get really annoying. More annoying than usual. I guess it’s your choice, but I’m not going anywhere. And I am driving you to work and Ireland to school. So, I think you might as well let me help.”

I’m still too hung up on his first sentence to laugh at his cute little joke about being annoying. Of course I heard him, but the first part is what stuck.

I have to know so I ask, “It makes you feel good to help us out? Why?”

“Emily, I don’t think you are ready to hear all the reasons why. The last thing I want is to scare you away.” He tucks a stray hair behind my ear with sincerity and a fear in his eyes that I am not used to seeing. “I don’t want you to walk away again.”

Finally, being honest myself, I set my coffee cup down, stretch up on my toes, put my arms around his neck and rest my head on his shoulder and nuzzle into the soft skin under his five o’clock shadow. As his arms come around me we just hold each other in silence before I whisper into his neck. “Thank you for everything the last couple of days, and thank you for wanting to give us another chance. Just so you know . . . I don’t want to walk away again either, Georgia.”

I can feel the tension fall from his body. “Thank Christ,” he says lightly before kissing me on the top of my head. Stepping away from our warm comfortable hug—that I could have stayed wrapped in all day—he hands me my coffee, spins me around, gives me a pat on the ass and says, “Go get ready for work, baby.”

I let out a little squeal at the slap on my ass and head to the bathroom as ordered. On my way, I can’t help but think about how much I love to hear him call me baby. I can remember the first time he did that in California. It still sends tingles through my body and gets me a little hot and bothered. When he calls me baby, it’s sexy. When he calls me Gracie, it’s his way of telling me how special I am to him. Both give me an incredible feeling but in two completely different ways. One is sexy and the other is sweet. I love them both.

I can’t help the extra pep in my step as I go through my morning routine. After getting dressed, I step out of my room and hear conversation and giggles coming from the kitchen. I follow the sweet sound and see an even sweeter picture. Ireland is sitting on the bar stool in her nightgown with her little bare feet swinging as she eats what seems to be a bowl of oatmeal. She hates oatmeal. It’s like he has magical powers and I can’t help but wonder what else he might have up his sleeves.

Walking up behind my blond beauty I ask, “What do we have here?”

“Hi, mommy. Jonafon and I are having oatmeal for breakfast.”

“I see that. How is it?” I question knowing that she won’t eat it for me.

“It’s nummy, mommy. It’s got apples in it.”

I walk over to Jonathan and lift my hand to him. He knows what I want and gives it to me with a slap of the hand and a confused look.

“I’ll tell you later,” I mouth to him.

“What about you? Can I make you anything?”

“Thanks, Georgia but I’m okay. I’m just gonna fix myself an English muffin and some OJ and I’ll be set.”

“Well, if you like English muffins then you will love the Kelly McMuffin. I must say it’s my breakfast specialty. Maybe one day if you’re lucky I’ll make you one.”

“That good huh?”

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