Page 21 of Objection
“Just a sec, Sandra,” I whispered into the phone. I cleared my throat before speaking again. “Come in.”
Mr. Wellington stepped into the room slowly, a steaming plate of food in his hands.
“Ms. Adams, I didn’t see you this morning and thought I would bring breakfast to you.”
His voice was rich and clear as ever, but seeing him out of the suit and tie get up was… completely strange. He was wearing fitted dark wash jeans and a tucked in white button up casual shirt. He looked...scrumptious.
“Ms. Adams?” He asked again, shaking me from my musings.
“What? Oh, thank you but, I don’t need breakfast,” I assured, clutching the phone in a death grip. He stepped closer, setting the plate of food on the dresser. Hell, he smelled even better. He always smelled good. He always looked good. But this was a completely different version of him, and I was a little taken aback in the best way possible.
“I assure you; breakfast is the most important meal of the day. While I understand you’ve been through a lot, you should try to eat. I’ll be out in the back yard most of the day today working on a few things and I have a few errands to run later. Please let me know if you need anything.”
I pulled the phone back up to my ear and whispered, “Sandra, let me call you back.”
I hung up before I could hear her response.
“Thank you, but I’m fine. I really don’t want anything to eat.” I kept my voice calm in the awkward moment, not wanting to sound ungrateful. No matter how awkward this moment was, I was beyond grateful for the fact that he had let me stay here.
“Eat.” The single word he uttered stopped me short.
“No thank you,” I tried again, forcing a smile. His eyes met mine and the stare he gave me sent a shiver down my spine.
“Eat. Now. Then we can discuss where we go from here. Breakfast is part of a healthy diet and in order to be a healthy individual you must eat breakfast.” His tone spoke a completely different conversation. They said: do not argue. I had a hard time listening to tones like that.
“I don’t like breakfast,” I tried again.
“I don’t care.” I rolled my eyes at his words. I couldn’t help it.
The look he gave me at that point stopped me. I wasn’t afraid of him. No. That look was something else.
“Enjoy your breakfast, Ms. Adams.” And without another word, he left the room, closing the door behind him.
I looked at my phone again, rolling my eyes at the fact that Sandra had blown my phone up again, before calling her back.
“Hey San—”
“Three things. One, are you sure you’re okay? Two, please consider filing legal action against David. Three, where exactly are you and why is Mr. Wellington offering you breakfast?” Sandra sounded beyond tickled. Honestly, if I didn’t know better, I would think she was sitting there with a bowl of popcorn ready for a sordid tale.
“One, yes, I’m okay. I feel exhausted and I have no idea what I’m going to do from here. That includes legal action against David.” I pushed down the rising nausea at even saying his name. I wasn’t ready to go there. I just didn’t know what to do in the meantime.
“Posey, I know it’s hard but—”
“I do too, Sandra. Logically, I know. But I’m not ready. I can’t even… please. Can we not talk about that just yet?” I pleaded, annoyed at the tears that were welling in my eyes.
“Of course. Plus, I’m way more interested in why Mr. Wellington has breakfast for you. Oh, Posey! Did you —”
“No! No, no, no! I sort of broke down in front of him yesterday. It's a really long story about him thinking I looked unprofessional, which I did. And then the truth just tumbled out. And when he saw all the damage, well, he brought me back here to his home and offered to let me stay here for now. I have no idea what comes next, Sandra.” I was picking at the food on the dresser before I even realized what I was doing.
“You stayed at his home?” Sandra’s voice was shocked. “Mr. Prim-and-Proper let you stay?”
“More like demanded it. I’ve never seen him like that, but Sandra — he cared. It was really about making sure I was safe. I’m grateful for it. And, holy hell, these waffles are sinful!” I picked up the fork and dug into the sugary breakfast. They were fluffy with a hint of lemon, still crispy on the edges. They were homemade.
“He made you waffles?” Sandra asked, shocked. She burst into a fit of giggles I couldn’t help but join in on.
“I know, right? I swear, I walked into an episode of the twilight zone.”
“But you’re safe. You can stay here. The couch isn’t the most comfortable in the world, but it’s yours. You know I’d give you stay the bedroom in a heartbeat if my daughter wasn’t coming into town this evening and staying with us.”
