Page 263 of Champagne Nights

“Yes, she did.”

“Interesting.” I narrowed my eyes. “Can I pour you some more wine?” I pointed to her empty glass.

“No thanks.” She let out a long yawn. “I’m tired as it is. Actually, I think I’m going to head to bed.”

“You’ve had a long day. Get some rest, and I’ll see you in the morning. By the way, the remote control for the blinds is sitting on the nightstand.”

She gave me a smile as she got up from the couch.

“Good night, Henry.”

“Good night, Ellie. Sweet dreams.”

I watched her walk up the stairs, and then she was out of sight. Taking my scotch out to the deck, I leaned over the railing and stared out at the dark water, listening to the sound of the waves crashing against the shore.

Ellie

I climbed into bed, grabbed the remote for the blinds, pressed the button, and watched as they came down. A feeling of sadness rushed through me when Henry told me about hisparents. I could tell he was ashamed, which explained why he never said too much about them.

I was exhausted, and my brain was tired from too much thinking. Plus, I was still on New York time and jetlagged. So, I closed my eyes and peacefully drifted to sleep.

The next morning, I awoke to the smell of something burning. Climbing out of bed, I went downstairs and saw Henry in the kitchen.

“What is that smell?” I asked as I walked over to him.

“Good morning. That would be me burning the pancakes.”

I cocked my head and gave him a smile.

“Why do you even try?” I asked.

“I wanted to make you breakfast, and I know pancakes are your favorite. Go sit down, I’ll make some new ones, and I promise not to burn them this time,” he signed.

“I have an idea. Why don’t you go sit down and let me make them?”

“But then I won’t be making breakfast for you,” he signed.

“I like to cook. You know that. So go.” I shooed him away.

“At least let me pour you a cup of coffee,” he said.

“I’d love some.”

After Henry gave me my coffee, he took a seat at the island and watched while I made another batch of pancake mix.

“How did you sleep?” he asked.

“Really good. You?”

“Good. I was thinking we could drive to Santa Monica today and check out the Pier. I think you’ll like it there.”

“Sounds fun. I’d like to go.”

“Okay. Then we’ll head out after breakfast,” he signed with a smile.

After I poured the batter into the pan, he walked over and stood next to me.

“Don’t you think you should turn the heat up? It looks too low,” he signed.

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