"Hey!" She charges toward me and pushes against the door of the refrigerator, trying to shut it. I hold onto the door so it won’t budge. "It’s impolite to peer into other people’s refrigerators," she points out.
I pull out the eggs and butter, then step back. She slams the door shut and the entire refrigerator wobbles.
I brush past her, grab a fork and a mixing bowl from one of the shelves. I tap the egg on the side of the bowl.
"What are you doing?"
"Making you breakfast."
"I don’t want you here."
"Too bad." I whisk the eggs together, and light the flame under the skillet. "Why don’t you make yourself useful and slice some of that bread?"
She hesitates, then does as she’s told.
"Lay the table." I point with my spoon in the direction of the table.
She opens her mouth to protest, and I click my tongue. "Don’t argue with me."
She huffs, then grabs cutlery and thumps it down on the table before she drops into the seat next to her daughter.
I whip up the scrambled eggs, divide them into two plates, butter the bread and add some to each plate, then walk over and slide a plate over to her. Taking off my coat, I place it over the chair opposite her, then take my seat.
Avery beams at me, then picks up a piece of apple and throws it at me.
I snatch it out of the air. "Thanks, sweetheart." I pop it into my mouth.
The kid smiles at me, then points at Elsa’s food. “Egg, mama.”
"You want some eggs, baby?" She scoops up some of the food and offers it to Avery who chows it down like she is starving.
"She has an appetite, eh?" I watch the little girl closely.
"She likes to eat everything… At least, I think she does, based on the little time that I have her."
Her lower lip trembles and she looks away. She reaches for her plate, shovels some of the eggs into her mouth, and chews.
I scoop some of the eggs onto the bread, take a bite, then place it back on the plate. I watch as she makes her way through her food, as if it’s a chore.
"How is it?" I point to the food.
"Good," she admits. "Sorry, I’m just not used to eating breakfast."
"From the way you look, you’re not used to eating at all," I observe.
"What’s wrong with the way I look?" She scowls.
I look her up and down. "Nothing." I raise my gaze to her face. "Absolutely nothing, and that’s the problem."
"What do you mean?" She carefully places her fork on the plate. "What is this all about? Why are you here, trying to be all cozy and domestic with me, when you should be with your family."
"I am with my family."
She opens and shuts her mouth. "Okay, I’m not sure what game you’re playing, but I really don’t like it." She pushes her chair back and starts to rise, when I reach over and grab her hand.
"Sit down, Princess."
She glances down at where my fingers are curled around her wrist. She’s so thin that my fingers look obscenely large against the delicacy of her frame.