Only now, I’m thinking with my head.
I look around the living room, and for a moment, it doesn’t even dawn on me how … spotless the house is.
Wait, what?
Lately, I haven’t had the energy to clean. Charlotte and Quinn’s things have taken up space on every surface of my tiny two-bedroom hous, mostly because I’m running out of space for everything. Another problem that I didn’t realize would be a problem until now.
But walking out of my bedroom door into the living room… everything is immaculate. The blankets are folded on the couch; there are no rattles or playmates on the floor. No empty bottles, burp rags or onesies littering the cushions of the couch.
Everything is as it should be. My eyes dart to the clock above the couch and see that it’s almost ten o’clock.
Holy crap, I slept for over twelve hours.
“Good morning,” Graham says from the kitchen. He’s sashaying around the kitchen, wearing nothing but a pair of low hung sweats on his hips. The muscles of his back ripple as he flips a pancake into the air, then turns around and tickles both Charlotte and Quinn’s feet. He has them on the island across from him while he’s cooking.
Not only is the living room spotless, so is the rest of the house, at least from what I can see by the open floor plan. My eyes drift over the rest of the living room, and I’m even more shocked to see he’s organized all of the girls' things we keep in the living room into a newly built cubby behind the couch.
“What is happening?” I ask, thoroughly confused.
Graham smirks, then shrugs. “You needed to rest, and I wanted you to wake up to breakfast and a clean house.”
Eyeing him, I take a seat at the island and flip the girls’ seat around to me, so I can kiss their chubby cheeks, all while watching Graham.
I think I may actually still be asleep, and this has to be a dream.
“Why do you have that look on your face?” Graham says, pushing a plate piled high full of strawberry pancakes, his grandma’s recipe, no doubt. My mouth waters when I inhale the delicious sweet tart flavor of the strawberries.
“I guess I just wasn’t expecting to wake up to this.” Picking up the fork, I cut a small piece of the pancakes and take a bite, moaning out loud with the sweet taste as I squeeze my eyes shut and savor it.
God, I was starving.
Graham clearing his throat makes my eyes snap open. “Em, you can’t make faces and sounds like that and expect me not to touch you.”
My cheeks heat.
Whoops. His gaze holds mine, and it’s molten. They drag down to my mouth, and back up, and I swear I can practically see the air between us sizzle.
Before I can do something like jump over the counter and have my way with him, which I’m one-hundred precent blaming on the fact that he’s ridiculously, stupidly attractive, and we haven’t had sex in… a long time, I say, “Sorry, I just have been craving these pancakes for so long, and I was so hungry.”
He smirks. “By all means, eat up, Emery.” The way he says it sends a shiver down my spine.
It sounds much dirtier when he says it so suggestively.
“You know, I forgot, I have that very important, timely thing to tend to at work,” I lie, desperate to get away from him before I end up naked and on the kitchen table, which obviously isn’t ideal, seeing as our current situation is the same as it was pre-breakdown.
“Yeah?”
I nod, grabbing my briefcase from the table and giving my girls kisses. “Yep. Time is of the essence. Thank you for the delicious… pancakes.”
“Anytime Em, have a great day at work.”
I can’t get out of the door fast enough, and for the rest of the day, all I taste is sweet strawberries that inevitably makes me think of Graham Adams and his dirty mouth.