Too Much To Hide || EDITING

c.23

      Portia is doing a fantastic job at feeding James while I feast on my bowl of cornflakes. My ideal breakfast. Although this morning, my mood is rather south from thinking about Adrian and I. It's the dwelling of Lucy in my mind that's making me feel so uncomfortable. The issue is, I don't know how to ignore the constant tugging inside my chest—and I certainly don't want to talk to Adrian about it.

      Heaving a great sigh, I push the soggy cornflakes around in the puddle of milk. 

      "Is everything alright, Liz?" Portia asks me as she waits for James to chew his bite.

      With a little difficulty, my lips stretch into a feigned smile.

      "Yeah, it's just early for me." I tell her convincingly. She looks like she buys my excuse because she flashes me a gentle, understanding grin before resuming her spoon-feeding.

       As soon as she isn't looking, I shut my eyes and sigh again before scooping up a spoonful and eating it. Over on the stairs, the sound of calm footsteps echo as Adrian brings himself to the kitchen. He's suited up in a navy blue jacket and pants, the jacket buttoned over a white linen shirt. Around his neck, an undone tie hangs lazily off his shoulders.

      "Your coffee is in the microwave," Portia informs as she places the mouth of the spoon onto James' adamantly shut lips. He shakes his head at the mashed fruit, his curls going all over the place.

      "Thanks," he says as he glances at me. I purse my lips before staring down at my bowl and taking another spoonful.

      With a disturbed frown, he wonders over to the pantry and the opening of the microwave door catches James attention, frustrating Portia in her attempt to make him finish his meal. I laugh softly; I would do it for her but the child needs to get used to Portia. 

      Adrian turns around and leans against the kitchen countertop to drink his coffee. I remember making it for him in my house and my nose scrunches up in memory. It's still hard to understand how he enjoys his coffee like that. 

      He notices my unpleasant reaction and scoffs with a smirk on his face. His eyes must have been on me this whole time. Clearing my throat, I shake my head and scoop up the last bites of my cornflakes before slurping up the left over dregs of milk. Nothing edible goes to waste in my hands.

      James has also successfully finished his meal. With a sigh of relief, Portia runs a tissue over his juice covered mouth before picking up both James and his empty plate and heading over to the pantry.

      "Portia, take James outside, please," Adrian says through a sip.

      She nods accordingly and places the plate in the sink before hyping up the excited child. The last time he did this, he talked to me about the lingerie he bought for me. Hopefully, the upcoming discussion won't leave me as flustered.

      Knowing I can't avoid it, I slide off my barstool and take my plate with me to the tap. Twisting the knob, pure water spills out and I hold the empty bowl underneath for it to rinse.

      "You look off," Adrian says as he turns his whole body to look at me.

      "Do I?" I retort, a little harsher than I mean to. He raises an eyebrow at my unnecessary tone.

      "Is this about the bathroom incident?" His brows furrow.

      "No," I sigh. "Although, I was pretty mad about that," I mumble with a scowl that makes him laugh.

      "What then?" He asks, tilting his head to the side. 

      Should I tell him? What am I supposed to say—oh your dead wife is haunting me and I don't really understand your feelings, or mine for that matter.