He brought all his own ingredients. Even the pans. Fresh ground coffee, fresh squeezed juice, southern style ham, fresh eggs, grits, a soufflé pan to use for grits soufflé. He started the coffee and began to get organized. He looked at the clock. 8am.
Her nose was twitching when she woke up. It was coffee she realized, but she hadn't set the coffee to go off had she? It was Sunday, wasn't it? She'd cried half the night, hadn't she? Coffee hadn't even been on her radar. Not after she'd deliberately not been here when he came at eight o'clock sharp, and after she'd found the flowers, right? She sat up carefully tucking her hair behind her ears. That was definitely coffee. Billie? Couldn't be. She and Leroy were on assignment in Omaha. Betty? Not likely. She hadn't let either of her sisters know about Simon, not any of it, o why would she be here? She stood up and headed for the kitchen, registering the small sounds of someone cooking.
Oh god! It hit her like a blow, knocking her breathless. There was only one person it could be. She leaned back against the couch, closing her eyes, trying to decide what to do. Run? Get her gun out? Cry? Scream at him? Beat him up? Go back to bed and hide under the covers?
"Good morning," he said, sticking his head out of the kitchen. "Coffee's ready."
She jumped, her eyes flying open. She stared at him dumbly as the seconds slipped by. "Why are you here?" she asked finally.
He cocked his head and regarded her. "Because I wanted to spend some time with you? Come into the kitchen to talk. I'm working on a grits souffle."
Grits souffle? She stood upright, tired to her core and followed him to the kitchen. She was furious with him, wasn't she? So why wasn't she yelling? Screaming at him? Telling him to leave? She blinked the tears back and stopped in the doorway to the kitchen.
It was spotless except for the area where he worked. A cup of coffee sat waiting for her at the table, already set for two. "You want to shower before or after breakfast?" he asked, beating the eggs as if he knew what he was doing.
He was acting as if everything were fine, as if there was nothing wrong with just disappearing on her and taking her for granted, just assuming she'd be here when he was ready to...She couldn't even form the thought. "Why are you back?" she asked, not moving from the doorway.
He put down the whisk and turned to her fully. "Because I can't stay away."
"Do you wish you could?" she whispered.
"I.. It would kill me if you got hurt because of me."
"Now answer the question I asked," she said.
He met her eyes. "Not any more."
"Oh jeezus," she said. "Simon, oh god...and so now it's all supposed to be okay?"
"Why can't it all be okay? If we both want it to be, I don't see why it can't."
"Because it's taking me for granted," she said finally. "It's assuming I'm just going to be here whenever it's convenient for you to show up. Because it makes me feel like I'm just...I'm just something you can pick up when you want me and put down when you don't."
He set aside his cooking and wiped his hands. "Ah. How can I show you that isn't true?"
"I don't know," she said, leaning against the doorway. "But it has to start with knowing it's not all okay. That I'm not okay."
"I understand that. I just want to make you okay. And I obviously don't know how to do that."
"What do you want from me?" she asked after a long pause.
"Absolutely nothing."
"Oh," she said. She shoved her hair back from her face and wiped her eyes. "Then what do you want with me?"
"I want to make you happy, and treat you well, and tell you how beautiful you are, and how I enjoy watching your eyes go cross-eyed when you climax and to tell you how happy you make me."
She stared at him, her chin trembling. "I love you so much," she whispered, the tears coming in earnest.
"Oh, beautiful woman, please don't cry. Every tear is like a knife prick." He walked over to her and wrapped her up in his arms.
She just shook her head against his shoulder, put her arms around him and sobbed.
He held her, kissing the top of her head, murmuring silly words the whole time. "I really am a bastard to do this to you," he finally said.
"Are you going to stop doing it?" she asked, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.
"Bobbie, there are things in my life I can't share. At least not yet. But what I can, I will. I promise."
She leaned her head back on his shoulder. "I can't stay away either," she said.
"Oh good. You scared me last night."
"I did?"
"I was afraid you'd never forgive me. I.. I was so worried they'd follow me here, you see. I don't want anything to happen to you. If it did, if I caused it... "
"I didn't think I would. I can't believe I am."
"Forgiving me? Are you?"
"It looks that way, doesn't it?" she said.
"I'm not sure. I'm afraid to think it does for fear I'll be wrong."
She stepped closer, lifting her head and kissed him.
"Bobbie," he said as the kiss broke. He wrapped her up to him as tightly as he could. "Bobbie. I've never been in love before. Is it always this ... scary?"
"At times, one way or another I suppose," she said. "But usually, from what I've observed, it settles down."
"That's good to know. My heart can't stand the down parts."
"So what are you going to do now?" she asked.
"Finish cooking you breakfast then I hope you'll take me to bed."
"I'll let you know for sure after breakfast," she said, "but I think probably you won't be hoping in vain."
Her nose was twitching when she woke up. It was coffee she realized, but she hadn't set the coffee to go off had she? It was Sunday, wasn't it? She'd cried half the night, hadn't she? Coffee hadn't even been on her radar. Not after she'd deliberately not been here when he came at eight o'clock sharp, and after she'd found the flowers, right? She sat up carefully tucking her hair behind her ears. That was definitely coffee. Billie? Couldn't be. She and Leroy were on assignment in Omaha. Betty? Not likely. She hadn't let either of her sisters know about Simon, not any of it, o why would she be here? She stood up and headed for the kitchen, registering the small sounds of someone cooking.
Oh god! It hit her like a blow, knocking her breathless. There was only one person it could be. She leaned back against the couch, closing her eyes, trying to decide what to do. Run? Get her gun out? Cry? Scream at him? Beat him up? Go back to bed and hide under the covers?
"Good morning," he said, sticking his head out of the kitchen. "Coffee's ready."
She jumped, her eyes flying open. She stared at him dumbly as the seconds slipped by. "Why are you here?" she asked finally.
He cocked his head and regarded her. "Because I wanted to spend some time with you? Come into the kitchen to talk. I'm working on a grits souffle."
Grits souffle? She stood upright, tired to her core and followed him to the kitchen. She was furious with him, wasn't she? So why wasn't she yelling? Screaming at him? Telling him to leave? She blinked the tears back and stopped in the doorway to the kitchen.
It was spotless except for the area where he worked. A cup of coffee sat waiting for her at the table, already set for two. "You want to shower before or after breakfast?" he asked, beating the eggs as if he knew what he was doing.
He was acting as if everything were fine, as if there was nothing wrong with just disappearing on her and taking her for granted, just assuming she'd be here when he was ready to...She couldn't even form the thought. "Why are you back?" she asked, not moving from the doorway.
He put down the whisk and turned to her fully. "Because I can't stay away."
"Do you wish you could?" she whispered.
"I.. It would kill me if you got hurt because of me."
"Now answer the question I asked," she said.
He met her eyes. "Not any more."
"Oh jeezus," she said. "Simon, oh god...and so now it's all supposed to be okay?"
"Why can't it all be okay? If we both want it to be, I don't see why it can't."
"Because it's taking me for granted," she said finally. "It's assuming I'm just going to be here whenever it's convenient for you to show up. Because it makes me feel like I'm just...I'm just something you can pick up when you want me and put down when you don't."
He set aside his cooking and wiped his hands. "Ah. How can I show you that isn't true?"
"I don't know," she said, leaning against the doorway. "But it has to start with knowing it's not all okay. That I'm not okay."
"I understand that. I just want to make you okay. And I obviously don't know how to do that."
"What do you want from me?" she asked after a long pause.
"Absolutely nothing."
"Oh," she said. She shoved her hair back from her face and wiped her eyes. "Then what do you want with me?"
"I want to make you happy, and treat you well, and tell you how beautiful you are, and how I enjoy watching your eyes go cross-eyed when you climax and to tell you how happy you make me."
She stared at him, her chin trembling. "I love you so much," she whispered, the tears coming in earnest.
"Oh, beautiful woman, please don't cry. Every tear is like a knife prick." He walked over to her and wrapped her up in his arms.
She just shook her head against his shoulder, put her arms around him and sobbed.
He held her, kissing the top of her head, murmuring silly words the whole time. "I really am a bastard to do this to you," he finally said.
"Are you going to stop doing it?" she asked, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.
"Bobbie, there are things in my life I can't share. At least not yet. But what I can, I will. I promise."
She leaned her head back on his shoulder. "I can't stay away either," she said.
"Oh good. You scared me last night."
"I did?"
"I was afraid you'd never forgive me. I.. I was so worried they'd follow me here, you see. I don't want anything to happen to you. If it did, if I caused it... "
"I didn't think I would. I can't believe I am."
"Forgiving me? Are you?"
"It looks that way, doesn't it?" she said.
"I'm not sure. I'm afraid to think it does for fear I'll be wrong."
She stepped closer, lifting her head and kissed him.
"Bobbie," he said as the kiss broke. He wrapped her up to him as tightly as he could. "Bobbie. I've never been in love before. Is it always this ... scary?"
"At times, one way or another I suppose," she said. "But usually, from what I've observed, it settles down."
"That's good to know. My heart can't stand the down parts."
"So what are you going to do now?" she asked.
"Finish cooking you breakfast then I hope you'll take me to bed."
"I'll let you know for sure after breakfast," she said, "but I think probably you won't be hoping in vain."
The Seal of Solomon
Chapter Eight