Page 15 of Leon
"What's for breakfast?"
"Some very delicate and delicious croissants. I might have gone overboard with the pastries. I also bought cream cakes and lemon meringue."
"Breakfast of champions." She touched his face. "I overslept. I wanted to make us breakfast."
"And I told you I don't want you slaving over a hot stove."
"I intend to cook us dinner. I discovered that there are some thick slabs of steaks in the freezer and potatoes. I'm going to bake us a cake."
His brow lifted. "Is that so?"
"Yep." She nipped at his bottom lip and sent heat raging through his body.
"Unless you want to postpone breakfast, I suggest you stop that." His voice was rough with emotion.
"And I happen to be starving. A certain husband had me up all night."
"Sounds like a very selfish man or a very hungry one."
"I would settle for hungry." She brushed a kiss on his lips before rising and pouring a large cup of coffee. "This smells heavenly."
He watched in indulgent amusement as she dug into the pastry bag.
She went all out with the dinner. Shooing him from the kitchen, she set about preparing the meal.
"I want to help."
"You'll only be in the way."
"What am I supposed to do?"
"Go for a walk. Relax with a beer or a glass of wine in the living room. When the meal is ready, I am going to ask you to set the table."
He had grumbled but left her to it, coming back a few times to watch as she chopped, sieved, and baked. She had showered and was wearing a thin pair of puce-colored leggings and had paired it with a cranberry yellow sweater. A flowered apron that was too big for her was wrapped around her tiny waist. She lookedadorable. So much so that he had to interrupt all of it by kissing her.
When she had everything prepared—the herbed potatoes were simmering in the pot, the cake (lemon sponge) was cooling on the rack, and the steaks were steeping in the sauce she had made—she went to find him so that he could help set the table.
He was in the living room, stretched out on the faded sofa. And was fast asleep. Crossing the room, she stood there staring at him. His lashes were long and slightly darker than the hair on his head. He looked relaxed in sleep, one hand folded on his chest, the other on the floor. His height was not accommodated by the sofa, and his feet were dangling over the edge. He simply took her breath away. Feeling the thickness filling her throat, she closed her hand over it and blinked back tears.
Here was her man, sleeping in the living room with the aroma of her cooking, the warmth of the fire giving the simple cottage a hominess that tugged at her heart. This was what she wanted, she thought achingly. This and children running around, tangling around their feet and making everything crazy. Toys strewn all over the floor and the scent of baking in the air. She wanted it with him. She wanted to feel the baby they made swelling and growing inside her. She wanted it so much that it made her feel helpless. Stumbling back, she retreated and went into the kitchen. The wine was cooling in the bucket of ice. Shehad opened the bottle to allow it to breathe. Grabbing a glass from the cupboard, she poured a generous amount and took it with her to the table. She had already placed a white linen tablecloth on it and lit scented candles. The atmosphere was set, but her heart was as heavy as lead. Tears burned the back of her eyes, and the wine had difficulty passing the lump in her throat.
She identified the emotion as fear. She was afraid that this was all going to come tumbling down. The feeling of impending doom was heavy—pressing down on her chest. She could not stop the feeling. Something was going to happen, something bad, and there was no way to stop it.
That's why she had insisted on cooking for him. Why she had gone to so much effort to make this so memorable. Gulping the wine, she tried to quell the sudden panic. And wondered what was coming. And how much it was going to affect them.
Chapter 5
He could read her clearly. Always could. He knew her well enough to see that there was something wrong. And that she was trying her best to cover it up with laughter and conversation.
He had awoken to the scent of delicious cooking and made his way to the kitchen to see the table set and her pouring the wine.
"I thought you were going to have me set the table."
"You were fast asleep, and I didn't want to wake you." She barely glanced over at him, but that brief look warned him that something was wrong.
"What is it?"
"What? Nothing." She went to the countertop to grab the salad. "Dinner is ready."
