Love Comes Last

4. Spitfire

Pictured: Victor

Song: Suit & Tie- Justin Timberlake ft. Jay-Z

The next morning, I wake to golden sunlight filtering through my sheer, white, curtains. Sitting up, I stretch with a sleepy yawn. My hands come up to my eyes, rubbing away some of the sleep, and then I throw my puffy comforter off, letting my feet hit the floor. The cool hardwood against my soles stir me awake a bit more, but there is still one thing missing- coffee.

Glancing down, I notice that I am in just my t-shirt and panties, so I slip some pajama shorts on, and then I make my way downstairs, heading to the kitchen. I am still in such a haze from my heavy sleep, that I don't notice Eli at the kitchen table.

"Good morning," he says from behind his newspaper, startling me.

I quickly turn, noticing him. He is already dressed for work in his dark, blue suit and stripped tie. "Morning," I reply, relaxing. "Do you want some coffee?"

His head peeks up over the paper, and he cocks an eyebrow at me. "I hate coffee."

I scrunch my nose at him. "What? Who did I marry?"

I hear him scoff, and then he disappears behind his paper again. "Do you want breakfast?" He asks after a moment's pause.

I lean against the counter, waiting for my coffee to brew. My eyes go to the clock on the kitchen wall. It reads 7:34. "Sure," I reply. "Did our parents stock the fridge?" I ask this because both Eli's mother and mine got together and furnished the entire house together that Eli had bought a few months before the wedding. It was their gift to us, and they had a lot of fun doing it. I will admit that a lot of the house isn't exactly my style, but who am I to be ungrateful?

"Yes," he replies. "But I could go pick you something up before work if you'd like. I don't have to be at the office until 9 this morning."

As he places the newspaper onto the table, beside his work cell, our eyes meet, and a sudden flash of the heavy make-out session from last night floods back to me. I feel my cheeks redden, and reply hurriedly, hoping that he doesn't notice my change of character. "No, that's OK. I can cook here."

He stares at me, puzzled. "Why? We could go out to eat together. Go get dressed and you can be ready for your yoga class at 10."

My eyebrows knit into a straight ling, and I ask, confused, "How do you know about my yoga class?"

"You've been taking them every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday since you turned 18. How could I not know about it?" He states, casually. His work cell phone begins vibrating, buzzing against the table, and he quickly picks it up. "Elijah Washington speaking. May I help you?" He purses his lips and then stands from the table. Before replying, he cups his hand over the phone. "Go get dressed," he whispers. "I need to take this, but try to be ready by 8."

I nod, and then watch him stride out of the kitchen. My mind flashes back to my father from when I was a child, and de ja vu hits me. I promised myself that I would never marry a man as distant as my father, and then, I broke that promise just to please him.

With a heavy sigh, I make my way to the bathroom, throwing my hair up in a sloppy bun and smudging on a little make up. After, I slide on my favorite yoga outfit, and grab my mat. By the time I am downstairs, lacing up my shoes, it is just about to be 8 o'clock. As I realize this, my stomach sinks, filling me with a senselessly, nervous feeling. Eli and I have went on fake dates before. Why should this one be any different?