Portia
went to dinner with Wood and afterward, they did some talking and a
lot of kissing on the couch—until someone set her chicken coop on
fire. Fortunately, here were no chickens in it. Wood agrees to spend
the night, sleeping in the guest room, so Portia won't be alone at
night.
Someone
tapped on my bedroom door. Groaning, I glanced at the clock. It was
almost 9:00.
"Yeah?"
"Coffee,"
Wood sounded cheerful.
"Be
right there."
I
went to the bathroom and stared at myself in the mirror. I looked
ghastly. A cold washcloth helped, as did brushing my hair. I threw on
a T-shirt and yoga pants, foregoing a bra because I simply didn't
feel like putting one on. If I hadn't known better, I'd have thought
I was hung over. The aspirin were still by the bed, so I swallowed a
couple with a handful of water from the tap.
The
coffee smelled delicious. I also detected the distinct aroma of baked
goods. When I got to the kitchen, I found that Wood had baked
muffins. He set a mug in front of me, perfectly doctored, as well as
two muffins, slathered with butter.
"I
had no idea I had ingredients for muffins," I said, taking a
bite.
"Everything
but the blueberries, but Carl has them in his freezer. I helped
myself."
"You're
one of those perky morning types, aren't you?"
"Yes,
grumble pussy, I am."
I
groaned, holding the coffee mug to my forehead.
"Mornings
are what you make of them," he continued.
"I
want to make them go away. Is that possible?"
"You
have to make it fun. Find something to smile about."
I
sipped the coffee and took another bite of muffin, and managed a
vague impression of a smile. Wood leaned over, giving me a quick
kiss. I smiled more, sighing contentedly.
"See?
Morning isn't so bad after all."
"Not
with you in it," I replied without thinking.
Instead
of getting upset, he grinned, winking. "Trust me, there are
better uses for morning, but I'll try to be a gentleman."
I
groaned again, not in a good way.
"Not
a fan of morning sex?" he raised an inquisitive eyebrow.
"Seriously?
I can barely see straight. I do not feel sexy in the morning."
"Haven't
woken up with the right man," he suggested casually as he walked
away.
I
had to admit, he was probably right. Mornings were often when Cory
chose to go off on me. He loved to argue and he picked at everything
I did. The coffee was too strong, or too weak. The eggs weren't done
right, the milk was curdled.
"He
was such a dick," I grumbled. "He made mornings extra
special by pitching tantrums."
Wood
sat across from me, arms crossed on the table, his chin on his
wrists. He looked up at me like a puppy dog. "I'll make you a
deal," he said, chin bobbing on his hands.
"What?"
I leaned over, resting my chin on my hands.
"I
won't talk about my bitch of an ex if you'll quit bringing up Cory.
Every time you mention him, I have this urge to kick him in the
nuts."
"That
makes two of us."
"I'm
not him, Portia. I'm not like him and I won't break your heart."
"It
wasn't the breaking as much as the ripping out of my chest part. And
the trampling it part. But you're right. Creepy Cory needs to be
thrown out with the garbage."
"Agreed."
"Maybe
we should introduce him to your ex."
"I
don't think the world would survive if the Bride of Frankenstein met
the Anti-Christ, do you?"
I
laughed loudly, tossing my hair. "Probably not."
©
2016 Dellani Oakes
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