Through The Storm

50

                                                                                              Estella

I hadn't realized I fell asleep next to him until we woke to the sun shining through the windows. We had never woken up next to each other. Actually, he's not even awake yet—I don't think. I close my eyes trying to enjoy this moment for as long as I can before he wakes up and gets mad that we're together.

My eyes open to movement coming from next to me. I must've gotten another hour or so of sleep. Oh god, he's definitely awake. I turn to face him, cautious of what he may say or do.

"Good morning" he says lowly, I've never heard his morning voice before. It's raspy and warm, unlike his normal cold and dark tones.

"Morning" It comes out as a whisper, quieter than I planned. Silence, we sit in silence for another twenty minutes. I remain staring at him, while he stares at me. It's a comfortable silence, a surrounding feeling of just existing alongside one another. Moments like this make me forget all the bad, all the hardships.

"We should get up" I peer up at him. It's a risky statement and I can't tell if I should've waited for him to say something first.

"I don't want to get up yet." He states monotonal.

"I could make breakfast for you" I'd love to stay in this bed all day, but I feel like we wouldn't get anywhere. And we need to talk.

"Fine, we can get up but I'm making breakfast for you." Who is this sitting next to me? Is he just buying time before we have this conversation? Which will most likely be a fight.

I let the time go by, basking in this feeling of happiness—something I haven't felt in a very long time. Without the stress, or the fear. He makes French toast, my favorite. Dancing around the kitchen, we laugh together, and it feels like home. I'd be able to get used to this, to live like this. But I can't allow myself to even go there, not when our relationship is so rocky.

"I didn't know you knew how to cook. I figured someone just did it for you" I state.

"Of course I know how to cook, who would do it for me?" He looks over at me.

"Maybe all the girls?" I mean to say it as a joke, but it comes out as a jab at him.

"After I fuck them?" he fires back. Great Estella, good job.

"I didn't mean anything by it, I was just making a joke." I say barely above a whisper, mentally cursing myself for ruining this morning.

"Okay. Well, no, my conquests don't make me breakfast because I kick them out before they can even fall asleep." So, am I different? Or does he say that to every girl to lessen the blow when they find out they aren't the only one.
"Conquests?"

"The girls I fuck, I kick them out." He's not being cold, more so he sounds bored.

"Okay" I leave it at that.

The French toast is done, and immediately I bite in. It's amazing, perfectly cooked, perfectly flavored. So, what can the Cade Walker not do? Relationships.

We eat in silence, but it's not tense or awkward. Once again, we're just existing together. But when breakfast is over, I look to him and it's an understanding between our stares that it's time.

"So, where do we start?" he asks.

"Well, you left me in Seattle with no explanation. You showed up to my welcome home party, then I heard a phone call where you basically said this was all a game and you plan to kill me. Not to mention in Seattle when you told me it wasn't real. And then you show up to my apartment and seduce me into not having this conversation. So, I guess we can start somewhere in there." As I say this stuff out loud, I realize more and more how naive I am for letting him back in.