Page 64 of Designing Love
28
LAST MARKET
Sophia
Sunlight filters softly through Ethan’s bedroom curtains, bathing the room in a golden glow that feels like a scene from one of Sage’s romantic paintings. I slowly blink awake, disoriented at first, but the warmth beside me quickly grounds me. I turn slightly, my heart fluttering as I see Ethan awake, lying on his side and studying me with his playful, crooked smile.
I blush, instinctively pulling the sheet higher. “Good morning.”
Ethan chuckles, the sound gentle, sending tiny butterflies scattering through my stomach. He reaches out slowly, brushing a rebellious curl away from my face. “Morning. I didn’t want to wake you — you looked peaceful.”
“Were you just lying there watching me?” I tease softly.
He shrugs, but his eyes stay pinned to my mouth. His grin deepens, eyes twinkling. “Only for the past twenty minutes or so.”
“Creepy,” I accuse playfully, rolling onto my side to face him. Our noses nearly touch, and I can feel the warmth radiating from his skin, tempting me to close the remaining distance.
“You say creepy. I prefer ‘adorably attentive,’” Ethan whispers, voice low and teasing.
I bite my lip, suppressing a smile. “Fine. It’s a thin line, though.”
We laugh softly together, the morning intimacy easing the last remnants of sleep from my mind. Ethan runs his fingertips gently down my arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. “So,” he murmurs, leaning closer, his breath tickling my cheek. “What would you like for breakfast?”
“You’re cooking?” I raise an eyebrow skeptically, mock-serious. “Can you cook?”
He feigns offense, placing a hand dramatically over his heart. “Excuse me — I’ll have you know my French toast is legendary in Bluewater Cove.”
I smirk, eyebrow raised in challenge. “Legendary, huh?”
He nods solemnly, eyes sparkling. “Award-winning. Well, nearly award-winning. Fine, Claire complimented it once.”
I laugh lightly, nudging him playfully. “Then who am I to refuse legendary, almost-award-winning, Claire-approved French toast?”
He leans in quickly, softly kissing my lips, warm and lingering. “You stay here. Relax. Let me prove my culinary prowess.”
He pulls away gently, standing up, and for a brief moment, I’m distracted by how perfectly he fits into his pajama pants. As he turns toward the door, he catches me staring, giving a playful smirk.
“Enjoying the view?”
I toss a pillow at him, cheeks flushed. “Go. Before I reconsider breakfast entirely.”
Laughing, Ethan disappears toward the kitchen, his quiet humming floating back to me. Alone in his bed, I roll onto my back, staring up at the ceiling, heart pounding in a rhythm I’m not quite used to. I’m giddy, silly, and a little terrified — but mostly, I’m delighted.
I slide out of bed, putting on yesterday’s clothes. I find Ethan’s sweatshirt and drape it over my shoulders, inhaling the faint scent of his cologne clinging to the fabric. As I wander quietly through his bedroom, I find myself smiling at the small details: his neatly stacked books, the coffee mug half-full from yesterday, and the slightly askew photo of Ethan with Claire, both laughing at some forgotten joke. It feels wonderful, relaxed and comfortable... just like Ethan himself.
The sound of Ethan humming a classic rock song off-key makes me grin as I step toward the kitchen, leaning against the doorframe, silently watching him beat eggs and cinnamon together with an expression of fierce concentration.
“You take this legendary business seriously, huh?” I tease.
Ethan glances over, pretending to scowl. “French toast is an art form, Sophia. Please respect the craft.”
I laugh, sliding onto a barstool, propping my chin in my hand as I watch him work. He dips the bread into the egg mixture, carefully placing each slice onto the sizzling pan, then flips them with exaggerated flair.
“Impressive technique,” I remark lightly.
He winks. “You haven’t seen anything yet.”
We eat on the porch, our plates balanced precariously on our laps, and the gentle crash of morning waves serves as our background music. Ethan’s French toast truly is delicious, but I can’t resist teasing him just a little.
