Page 95 of The Path To Us

After he’s slid on a pair of shorts and I’ve put on my panties, used the toilet (a bladder infection after mind-blowing sex wouldn’t do), wash up, and throw my hair in a bun, I meet him in the kitchen where he left for when I went to the bathroom.

He hands me a cup of coffee and I take it greedily.

“Fried eggs and toast okay? That’s about all the energy I have,” he says, looking in the fridge.

“Works for me. I’ll start the toast. How many pieces do you want?”

“Four.”

I laugh. “My gosh, I’m going to need a second job so we can afford to feed your appetite. Though it’s a good thing eggs and bread are cheap.”

He turns around from where he was placing the skillet on the stove and looks at me.

“What?”

“We.”

“We… what?”

“You said we, as in a couple. I like the sound of it.” He shrugs.

“Might take a little bit to get used to it. Realizing that we’re a we and we’re finally there.”

“I hope I never get used to it.”

“Yeah,” I say on a sigh and will myself not to cry.

“Right. Eggs. Toast. Coffee. Porch.”

“Yeah,” I repeat, still sighing.

We smile at each other and get to work. Two eggs medium and two pieces of toast with strawberry jelly for me. Four eggs sunny side up and four pieces of toast, two with peanut butter, two with strawberry jelly, for Beau. He also grabs a yogurt and a banana along with a glass of milk. I honestly don’t see how he eats the way he does and manages to stay trim. Though, he works his ass off doing physical labor almost every day and when he’s not on a roof, he’s doing anything else he can to stay in shape.

* * *

“Good eggs, honey. Thank you.”

“Anytime,” I tell him and mean it. I love to cook but especially for Beau because he loves to eat and shows his appreciation. He also would never expect me to cook for him, he’s always helping in the kitchen any way he can, which makes cooking for him that much more fun.

“Ready to explain Noosma to me?”

“What all did he tell you?”

He goes on to explain that he pretty much knows everything after he went to Richard’s house yesterday.

“Why didn’t you tell me about him?”

I shrug. “Honestly, I don’t know. It felt more sacred to keep our friendship to ourselves. He was someone I’d grown to love and trust more than anyone else and having him to confide in was special. I liked what we had and didn’t want it to change.”

He nods and sits back in his chair, lifting his coffee to his lips. “I get that. He’s quite fond of you.”

“Feeling’s mutual.”

“Zoey loves him. Calls him Pop. Like he’s a grandpa.”

“He is a grandpa to her in every sense of the word.”

“I got that. Have you met his son?”

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