Where Do Broken Hearts Go?

28. Flowers and Happiness

When the sun says it's morning welcome, I groan and roll over to ditch the bright accost. As a cool draft ensues me, my fingers search for the blanket. Unfortunately, they only dance upon pillows. Reaching back, I hit a warm body. Sitting up, I find a doofus sleeping beside me.

I just want to know, what time did I fall asleep? 

Waking up without covers thrown over me isn't it! 

Wow. Would you look at that? I only have one sock on. You couldn't take the other one off for me? 

Let me get up before I find something else I'm not happy with.

Taking my morning yawn, I'm hit with the reality of having to leave in a few hours. My first reaction is to bitterly kick my legs, but I catch myself as I see Marcel stir. I'll throw my fit in the shower.

Following behind me as I leave the bathroom is a steamy, apple, and pear fragrance. Gently pulling the door together, I turn to find a drowsy Marcel lying on his back, rubbing his sun-sensitive eyes.

From across the room, I see my phone lighting up. I know it's Ella. What's with her and these damn morning calls?

Through half-open lids, Marcel checks the other side of the bed. Oh my God. Look at his puffy, puppy face. As a confused scrunch sits between his brows, apart of me becomes playful and wants to hide.

On my way to my phone, Marcel rolls over, covering his face when he spots me. "I think we should change our tickets home." His voice is raspy enough, but his morning voice will make you clutch your pearls. Ain't nothing puppy about that. "What time is it?"

"9:23."

"Missed my workout." He says groggily as I gather my things from the dressers.

"Because your phone is in your room – I'm guessing."

"Good movie that was last night."

"Yes. I must have fallen asleep before it ended." I drop my clothes into the open luggage.

"You can't hang. Lightweight." He teases. "I'm going back to sleep."

"Okay."

From the corner of my eye, Marcel catches my attention by lethargically sitting up. Checking over the foot of the bed, I see him crawling to the top of the mattress and burying himself under the covers. Oh, he was serious.

Marcel muffles, "Smells like flowers and happiness under here."

A bashful smile skates across my face as I watch him pull the covers closer to him. By smoothing my hand over my hair, I try erasing the thought, would you rather be holding me instead?

Hours later, Marcel and I find ourselves looking for a small treasure to take back home.

"Cute how you made this weekend." He picks up a Murano glass.

Oh my, Jesus Christ. 

My eyes jump from him to the delicate decoration. Silently grimacing as he turns it around, my eyes shoot back up to his. He's not even paying attention to what he's doing!  Finally, he gives his regard back to the Venetian glass.

"Put it down," I whisper.

"Why?"

"You're clumsy." I cut my eyes from him to the glass.

He smirks and that's all I need to see to know that this isn't going to end well. Marcel's hand flattens out, not having any grasp on the piece. 

I kiss my teeth, darting my eyes away from the frustrating moment. Boy, when I look again, you better have a nice grip. My wish wasn't granted.