Something Great

Chapter 13

Natalie's POV

I feel warm. Unusually warm. While my eyes stay blissfully closed, my irritatingly punctual body clock tells me it's morning. Fluttering my eyelids open, and blinking away the light streaming in through the blinds, I go to extend my arms and legs for a luxurious and much-needed stretch but pull up short, catching sight of the arm that is resting comfortably across my waist. Risking a glance to my left, I come face to face with a sight that almost makes my heart stop. His hair is a riot of curls, falling over his face and the pillow. His full pout is cherry-red, lips parted slightly in sleep. I reach up absent-mindedly to brush my fingers across my own lips, remembering his taste from the night before. His lashes flutter slightly, brushing his cheeks. My eyes continue their inspection, moving along his neck down to his very toned, and very naked, chest. Suddenly I'm wide awake and my mouth is bone-dry. The thought of him waking up to see me disheveled and make-up free, plagued by noxious morning breath has me horrified. I need a few moments to clean myself up before I can face him. That, and I could use a bit of distance, just to get my head and heart wrapped around everything that has changed. This is the first time in a year that a man has shared my bed, and regardless of the fact that nothing sexual took place, the significance is virtually the same.

Carefully slipping out from under his arm so as not to awaken him, I head to the bathroom to wash my face, brush my teeth, and take care of my hair situation. Messy bun it is. Sighing in resignation, I realize that there's not much I can do about the package staring back at me from the mirror, and I refuse to let insecurities rule my mind, despite the present company. Deciding that my dark gray slouchy knit pants and white t-shirt are perfectly presentable, I head downstairs to the kitchen. I figure treating him to a home-made breakfast would be a great idea; that and I could use the distraction the task will provide. I belatedly realize I have no idea what breakfast foods he likes, but reach the conclusion that french toast seems safe. Who doesn't like french toast? And bacon? Quickly gathering what I'll need, I preheat the oven for the bacon. Laying the bacon out on a baking sheet, I place the last slice just as the oven alerts me it's ready. Sliding the bacon into the oven, I close the door and walk back over to where I left the eggs and other ingredients. Cracking the eggs into a large bowl, and adding milk, cinnamon, and a dash of sugar, I lose myself in the familiarity of the activity, taking comfort in it. I remember the number of times I stood next to Jacob, in our kitchen, engaged in the same task, laughing while he would attempt to wipe egg white on my face, or use my preoccupied state as an opportunity to grab my ass. I'd usually attempt to swat him away with a spatula, which he'd ignore. Sometimes this would result in us getting a bit carried away and forgetting about breakfast. I can't help but blush a bit at the memory, a short laugh slipping past my lips before I can stop it.

It's then that I'm hit with a moment of clarity that leaves me feeling almost winded, and I drop the whisk I'm holding. This morning, for the first time, there are no tears. For the first time, thoughts of Jacob and his sudden and tragic absence does not force me into a fetal position, crippled by grief. The resulting feeling is at once euphoric and disorienting, like I don't know where I am or what to do with myself. I grip the counter as if to stay grounded in reality. Is this what Alice felt like, when she fell through the looking glass? My eyes furtively dart around me, almost like I'm making sure I'm still standing in my kitchen. Why today? What has changed? Is there some magical expiration date for crippling grief, where your mind and body simultaneously decide that "enough is enough"? I find that hard to believe. A more plausible answer is that I've found my tincture, in the form of the beautiful guy currently passed out in my sheets. His presence is literally the only variable that's been added. I really can't go down that path though. If I start to look at Harry like my salvation, and the reason I can function, what happens when he's not there anymore? For the time being, I'm just not going to question it. Better off not looking a gift horse in the mouth. Just accept it and say thank you.